SEXUALLY SPEAKING: COLLECTED SEX WRITINGS by Gore Vidal

(Cleis Press) $24.95

I first came to Gore Vidal's writing through Myra Breckenridge, his infamous/ revered/absolutely brilliant 1968 novel (later turned into the worst film ever made). And while the heroic misadventures of that book's high-minded, transgendered protagonist provided nearly unprecedented literary pleasure, Myra's removable boobs proved to be but stepping stones on the path to the true prize: Vidal's personal essays--particularly his essays on sex, previously included in the muscle-straining comprehensive anthology United States, now gathered on their own in this user-friendly edition by canny underdog Cleis Press.

Some might balk at the use of the phrase "personal essays" to describe Vidal's work. Ostensibly these pieces tackle larger issues: the evolution of pornography, the limitations of the feminist movement, the pernicious attempt to legislate morality. But not since God has there been a more charming or relentless egoist, and it's safe to say that every Vidal essay is a personal essay. Lucky for us, the person in question is Gore Vidal--learned historian, rigorous free-thinker, and cold-blooded bitch. In each of these works (written from 1965 to 1998), Vidal gets in the ring with An Issue, and the ensuing whomp-fest is never less than titillating, mind-expanding, and more often than not, deeply funny.

Vidal's basic tenets--sex plus law equals stupidity, men and women are inherently different creatures, and everybody's bi ("the dumb neologisms 'homo-sexual' and 'hetero-sexual' are adjectives that describe acts but never people")--pop up throughout the collection, but the proceedings never grow predictable. In his vivisection of '60s sex hack Dr. David Reuben, Vidal eschews obvious potshots for a searching (but equally damning) examination of Reuben's class and race-religion idiocy. Later he pillories Henry Miller in a manner so deceptively respectful I imagine even Miller himself would be pleased. And, wisely, Vidal never underestimates the power of a good joke. Case in point: Vidal's summary of the results of a late-'80s sex census. "A majority of men and women like oral sex. Next in popularity was sex with a famous person. Plainly being blown by George or Barbara Bush would be the ultimate trip for our huddled masses."

Divine. DAVID SCHMADER

HANNIBAL by Thomas Harris

(Delacorte) $27.95

My very grown-up boyfriend called me one night to say that he had been reading Hannibal, Thomas Harris' sequel to The Silence of the Lambs, and he was too scared to go to sleep. While I comforted him with the required "Poor baby," I was really thinking, "Big baby," and asked him if I could borrow the book as soon as he finished with it. I don't spook easily.

By the time sweetie handed over Hannibal, he'd already informed me that the ending was retardo, so I felt completely confident that I would have no nightmares or feeling of dread later that night. I read to chapter 13, which re-introduces Clarice Starling and introduces Dr. Lecter's first victim, Mason Verger, still alive, but in a fucking creepy and disgusting state. I then went to sleep and tossed and turned all goddamn night, riddled with the most horrifying nightmares of my adult days! Thank god for 2:00 a.m. infomercials. Two nights later I picked up the book again, and was relieved--and disappointed--to find that it was no longer scary.

Lecter becomes a romantic figure in part two of Hannibal, but of course from then on out the book is just plain stupid, filled with typical crime novel overwriting and page-after-boring-page descriptions of the man-eating boars that Verger plans to feed Lecter to. I don't want to say too much, but a more stupid--and less scary--ending you will never find. KATHLEEN WILSON

THE LONELY DOLL by Dare Wright

(Houghton Mifflin) $16

Children's fiction about dolls is a suspect genre. It's one thing to encourage role-playing in childhood, and quite another to encourage your little girl to think of herself as a doll. Dare Wright's 1954 book, reprinted last year by Houghton Mifflin and illustrated with intimate black-and-white photographs, tells a fishy story: Purse-mouthed little Edith is oh so lonely, because she's a small doll in a big house. She wishes so hard for playmates that her dream actually comes true--one day, a Big Bear and a Little Bear appear on her doorstep. "We've come to live with you!" they announce. This is all well and good until Big Bear imposes a rule of law on the household, and Little Bear and Edith rebel. They break into a mysterious powder room, dress up in drag, trash the place, and scrawl, "Big Bear is a Big Old Blowhard" on the vanity mirror.

Needless to say, when Big Bear returns, he is horrified. In a blatantly sexualized scene, he takes Edith over his knee and spanks her. In the finale, Edith must apologize for her petite revolution, and the military rule is restored.

Thanks Houghton Mifflin, for bringing us this charming slice of mid-century literature. Amazon.com's site for this book is full of customer comments: "I plan on saving this in case I have a daughter someday." God help us all. TRACI VOGEL