Book Review: A Common Pornography by Kevin Sampsell

2010 at 10am     Posted by Rebecca Joines Schinsky

Published January 2010 by HarperCollins

Bet I’m gonna get some interesting new followers and fun spam comments with the word “pornography” in the title of my post, but you know what?  It will be totally worth it for the opportunity to talk about this incredibly unique, impossible-to-put-down book. (That’s my new workaround for “unputdownable,” which I know many of you hate. What do you think?)

Anyway, let’s talk about A Common Pornography because it really is fascinating. After Kevin Sampsell’s father died suddenly of a brain aneurysm in 2008, he returned to the small town in Washington state where he grew up, and as he revisited memories from his childhood, viewing them through the new lens of adulthood and realizing that his life was not nearly as normal as he once thought, his mother revealed new information about his family’s history—including his father’s molestation of his half-sister—that enabled him to put the pieces together in a way he never had before.  What resulted from this reflection is the “memory experiment” that forms A Common Pornography.

Presented in short vignettes—most pieces in the book are just a few pages—that seem to be a free association of memories about childhood, adolescence, family dysfunction, sexual experiences, and much more, A Common Pornography tells the story of Sampsell’s life through a series of written snapshots. By giving readers insight into the most salient, formative moments of his life—and many mundane ones as well—Sampsell pieces together an autobiography that doesn’t mess around with small talk but instead goes right to the heart of who and how he is and why that is so. 

The make-up of Sampsell’s family is unusual, consisting of several half-siblings–one of whom is black— from his mother’s two previous marriages, and his relationship with his half-siblings and his father is complicated to say the least. The snapshot vignettes exploring these relationships are remarkably weighty, particularly for such short pieces, and they indicate that what Sampsell has done here goes beyond having a way with words. These pieces pack a strong emotional punch, and Sampsell takes us with him as he forms new understandings of his family following his mother’s revelations.

In balance to these darker pieces, Sampsell tells us about his adolescent porn collection (you were waiting for that, weren’t you?), which he first hid behind a tile of his bedroom ceiling, but which, fearing that it would cave in and expose him (this is a BIG porn collection, people), he eventually culled down to a kind of greatest hits collection that he kept in an old blue suitcase in the back of his closet. Reflections on the discovery of pornography and masturbation are a dime a dozen in male coming-of-age stories and memoirs, but Sampsell makes it seem fresh, new, and endearing, and that is the defining feature of this memoir.

I like to the think that the title  of this book refers not to just to Sampsell’s suitcase porn collection but to humans’ endless fascination with each other. We are innately, insatiably curious about the lives of others, and memoirs, in their way, have become a kind of literary pornography, an opportunity to exercise voyeurism in a socially acceptable way and to peer into experiences that are simultaneously banal and noteworthy. Tolstoy was right; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, and it is Sampsell’s ability to see that in his own family and excise the best bits that makes A Common Pornography feel so original.  A Common Pornography has earned a spot in my mental blue suitcase of memoir greatest hits, and I can’t wait to see what Sampsell will do next. 4.5 out of 5.

Hey, FTC: I received a copy of this book from the publisher.
I support independent bookstores and am an IndieBound affiliate. If you purchase A Common Pornography through one of my links, I’ll receive a small commission….which I will promptly spend at an indie bookstore, keeping the cycle going.

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