"How to Make Love Like a Porn Star" by Jenna Jameson
World's biggest porn star tells all: Bad childhood, bad men, bad drugs -- but don't shed any tears for Jenna Jameson.
by Charles Taylor
This is the part of the review where I pretend to have to tell you, the reader, who Jenna Jameson is. If we agree to dispense with that charade and admit that we both know who Jenna Jameson is (which still leaves us the out of "but I've never seen any of her movies"), then we can -- tee-hee -- make naughty little jokes about what must be included in a porn star's autobiography. Or we can feign a lack of interest, make knowing remarks at what crap the book must be, even look down at the poor suckers shelling out 28 bucks for it. We all know they're just buying it to jerk off to the pictures, right?
When you get down to it, there's not much difference between those strategies of disdain and Bill O'Reilly's calling Jameson a "quasi-prostitute." They're both ways of saying that what used to be called "that type of woman" has no standing in real society. She's not a real person. And, by extension, neither are the millions of us who watch Jenna Jameson and who have made her the most successful star in the history of adult movies.
As the representative face of a segment of pop culture that's both more popular than it's ever been (porn's yearly income rivals that of Hollywood and pro sports) and still unacknowledged by most of its consumers, Jenna Jameson has become an unintentional provocateur. She's managed to become a big star with only minimal appearances in the mainstream media (some hosting for the E! Channel; a recurring role on NBC's canceled "Mr. Sterling" series; a bit role in "Howard Stern's Private Parts" and guest shots on his show). I can walk into one of the big media megastores and buy one of her movies or a "Got Jenna?" T-shirt or a Jenna Jameson action figure. But I'm not likely to see her turning up on Letterman or Leno -- and if she did, the conversation would likely be about the novelty of her being there at all.
It's doubtful that Jay or Dave would oblige her with a plug by holding up a copy of "Briana Loves Jenna," the second-best-selling adult movie of all time, or her latest, "The Masseuse" -- a remake of the '80s porn classic -- or let her mention her Web site, Club Jenna.) She towers over Times Square on a billboard. But when she appeared on the cover of New York magazine last fall, it was to illustrate a pair of hand-wringing features by David Amsden and the hapless Naomi Wolf on the alleged insidiousness of Internet porn. Because of how she's become famous, Jameson has made it harder than ever for people to maintain the hypocrisy that they recognize the names of porn stars but don't watch porn.
Jenna Jameson has done more than any other performer to increase the acceptability of a part of our culture that, like it or not, isn't going away. For her, porn has not been and is not a stepping stone to "legitimate" show biz. "The most important thing to me right now is to become the biggest star the industry has ever seen," she told Wicked Pictures founder Steve Ornstein when she asked him to put her under contract. In no part of her new autobiography, "How to Make Love Like a Porn Star," does she pretend that porn was a detour on a career that was meant to be spent acting or modeling or singing. Jameson is the prototype of a new sort of star, one who doesn't treat her particular brand of notoriety as notoriousness. Look at her book with that phrase -- porn star -- right there in the title, no coyness about it.
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