The only thing I’ve ever intentionally stolen is a copy of Nancy Friday’s book My Secret Garden. (Hotel toiletries don’t count.)
It was the mid-1980s, in the sleepy village of Cheam, in Surrey. I was about 15, and working as a part-time assistant in the public library. While restocking the shelves, this book caught my eye (the picture of the naked lady on the front might have had something to do with it), and I started browsing. I couldn’t believe what I was reading, and went back to that shelf a few times to read more. When my shift finished, I put the book in my coat pocket and walked out.
It was a fairly new copy, and had a security tag on it. It would have set off the alarm, but as I was leaving by the staff entrance, I thought I’d get away with it. I’m sure an older (female) colleague saw the book sticking out of my pocket as I made my way out the door (blushing, no doubt), but thankfully she didn’t say anything. I would have been morto, as they say.
Plenty of people seem to think that a book can’t change your life. I beg to differ. To say that reading My Secret Garden was an eye-opening experience for me would be putting mildly. That book made a teenager from a fairly sheltered suburban background aware that there was a whole other world out there. As the years went by, I lived in different places, and experienced some of that world for myself.
Fast-forward thirty years, and Liberties Press has just published the ground-breaking book Bare: Irish Women’s Sexual Fantasies. It does pretty much what it says on the tin. And yes, there’s another naked lady on the cover. The idea sprang from a conversation with Belfast-based literary agent Susan Feldstein a couple of years ago. While she wasn’t in a position to gather together the stories herself, we contacted “Julianne Daly”, who did a fantastic job with it. (A pre-publication interview I did with Sean Moncrieff was somewhat awkward - two forty-something men talking about women’s sexual fantasies was never going to make for vintage radio - but needs must.)
I’m gratified by all the attention the book is receiving. Bare is being treated as what it is: a well-produced book that lifts the lid on an important aspect of life. What more can you ask for, as a publisher? One reviewer hit the nail on the head: in a world where’s men sexual fantasies are played out in films, adverts and TV shows, why don’t we hear more about what’s going on in women’s heads. Hopefully this book will do something to redress the balance.
Every household in the country should have a copy. Why not? Just make sure you pay for yours on the way out.
Seán O’Keeffe is the publisher with Liberties Press
