
Oh no! Zeta, the AC/DC librarian, isn’t just strict on overdue books. She’s an archivist who does close-up photography of every ding dong and ho ho she encounters — and that’s a lot. She might need the whole Library of Congress to house her naughty special collection.
Nympho Librarian is the vintage novel with viral cover art and a holy grail title among paperback collectors. For obvious reasons, it’s intrigued a lot of readers who want to support their local library—in more ways than one.
Unfortunately the book is very out-of-print and nearly impossible to find. Most people probably assume the cover is a fake Photoshop job. Well, it is a real book and I traced down a copy. Naturally, I got right to reading, eager to find out if the story would be as exquisite as the cover by Parisian-trained (but Toledo-based) painter Isaac Paul Rader (1906-1986).
Alas—no. The book is not as good as the cover. I had high hopes for wall-to-wall library puns which never materialized. Not even a “Hey girl, you’ve got me alphabetized — Aroused, Bewitched, and Completely under your spell.”
So disappointing. Not a single, “Are you a restricted section? Because I’d love to spend all night exploring you in private.”
Seriously! Somebody ought to at least moan, “Give me that Dickens!”
But no. In fact, our cast of characters aren’t even bookish. There’s the titular nympho, Zeta, who opens the novel annoyed and bored by her library surroundings. She’s not passionate about her job and extra frustrated because the small town voted against additional library funding. That includes funding for air conditioning. She can already imagine how hot the next four summers will be. Maybe longer, depending on how things go in the next election.
Her co-worker is Harriet. Harriet is also a bi girl, but with a clear preference for women. She flirts with Zeta frequently and her efforts will soon pay off. Harriet goes by Harry when she’s more in touch with her masculine side. Nobody throws a fit about “woke mobs.” They just respect her wishes and call her Harry moving forward. When she’s feeling more fem, she asks to be called Harriet again. And that’s what her friends do. It’s not weird. Nobody is less of a man or woman for obliging. Y’all, if 1970s smut can be this respectful, so can you.
Two other key players are Joe and Marshall.
Joe is a low-level library page and soldier who previously spent time in Vietnam. Characterization is almost completely limited to him having a big Herman Wouk. But he also cooks and displays rock hard support of Harriet’s gender fluidity—to the extent of moaning Harry’s name during intercourse. He comes across as likable and, more importantly, dynamite in the sack. The girls soon bestow him with the nickname “Mighty Meat.”
Marshall is the head librarian. He’s early 40s, a shy mama’s boy type. Not attractive in the traditional sense, but still bangable. He’s also known for the size of his whopper — very large, if you’re curious. Even bigger than Joe’s. When Zeta flirts with him, he becomes scandalized and tells her he has no choice but to fire her. This argument lasts about two seconds before Zeta seduces him and then blackmails him with dirty pictures. She demands to keep her job and he must become her secret photographer. This way she can fully enjoy her exploits and document them at the same time! They should give awards to librarians like her, she thinks.
“I didn’t know human chameleons existed,” remarks Marshall, startled to discover this prim librarian has such a vicious, wild side.
“We do exist, honey,” replies Zeta. “We women show you men just what we want you brutes to see. That’s the way women get things done.”
By the end, Zeta will fully transform into a villain. Still, we gotta respect her hustle and ability to achieve what she wants.
Other than these shifts in character motivation, the book is comprised almost entirely of bedroom scenes. And I do mean beds, with mattresses. No romps among the stacks. No propping one’s thighs against Jane Austen. Again, nobody says “Is it storytime? Because I’d love to turn you into a bedtime tale… with a very happy ending.”
Talk. About. Missed. Opportunities. Ugh!
Complaints aside, it’s still a fun book. Blackmail and scheming add a narrative thread to keep things interesting. Progressive portrayals of bisexual and gender fluid characters are a nice surprise, plus the women are badass. Smutty scenes aren’t too gross and include a few zinger descriptions. For example, the male reproductive organ is called a “brickbat” at one point, and there are these dialogue gems:
“I get more juice from your pussy than I’d get from squeezing an orange.”
“I hope the food isn’t ruined. I could eat a horse.”
“I believe it. You’ve eaten everything else.”
“Heaven is good food, hot loving, and pleasant surroundings.”
You may notice all these quotes have to do with food. There is A LOT of food in this book. Like, somebody ought to make a companion cookbook out of it. After each romp, even before lighting a cigarette, somebody whips up a souffle or makes dinner reservations. The food descriptions are lengthy and out-of-place, but damn if I didn’t get hungry. One of the tastiest-sounding meals occurs at a “fine Italian steakhouse” where they feast on “tossed Italian salads with vinegar-and-oil dressing, baked potatoes topped with sour cream and chives, garlic bread, and Chianti.” Plus coffee and Spumoni for dessert!
In the end, Nympho Librarian offers minimal enduring literary value. Only the cover art must be preserved for all time—preferably in the Louvre. Don’t spend the $500+ it likely costs to buy a rare used copy. Don’t fly to the single university which keeps one in their archives like I did. There are other books to read. Surely even other dirty librarian books. Please God, maybe one of them is filled with the bookish double entendres we deserve.
Thoughts? Reactions? Add a comment on SpookyBooky’s Instagram!