A Review of The Demu Trilogy

Demu TrilogyDemu Trilogy by F.M. Busby
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

Typical of so many 1970s pulp sci fi writers and books. F.M. Busby’s The Demu Trilogy may actually be good, although with a 3.59 rating on Goodreads, I doubt it, but I’m not going to give it a shot by finishing it and you know why? Gratuitous sex. I’m not a prude. I have nothing against sex, lots of sex. I’ve read, and own, de Sade. I’ve read more sex in one book than most people have read in a lifetime. But within context. Within this context, and most sci fi’ context, gratuitous sex is just pathetic adolescent masturbatory fantasy written by some no talent (usually, except for Heinlein) hack writer who can’t get any.

This book begins with a fellow named Barton who wakes up on a dull spaceship, nude, with about 50 other nude people, not all of whom are fully human, although he strangely realizes this because they all look mostly human. And naked. And while most don’t speak English, he finds an English speaking man who speaks almost any language out there, including alien, and a hottie alien woman and they all get along famously, so much so that he finds himself boning the alien babe before long. And she does the same with his new friend. It was the decade of the Sexual Revolution, after all. I guess in space too.

Well, the aliens didn’t like this, so he woke up in a private room, but he was soon joined by another alien woman who was uber-aggressive and who attacked him relentlessly. She was taken away and then reappeared and to Barton’s horror, it’s implied that she was given a lobotomy and now also appears toothless, drooling, and quite empty eyed and happy. But also horny as shit and apparently quite strong, because he can’t fight her off, so he naturally gives in and lets her have her way and they do it relentlessly and he doesn’t feel too bad about it because she’s quite obviously enjoying herself. Yeah, nice. But soon, she appears to be getting fat. And he realizes, oh shit. Yep, preggers. He tries to communicate to the aliens that he’s not a damn doctor, he can’t deliver a half human, half alien baby, but nope, when it’s time, she’s screaming like crazy and it’s bloody and the fetus/baby is freaking him out, so he does the natural thing and slaughters both of them to shut them the fuck up. Nice, huh? So, they’re removed from his room. And he’s reduced to masturbating frequently. Which he does every page. And then all of a sudden, there’s a window in his room and he sees several lobster-like aliens watching him and then they’re making some jerk-off motions because they CLEARLY want him to masturbate for them because I guess they’re horny lobster aliens (?), but he has his murder/sex principles, so he won’t masturbate for them, so even though they try to persuade him for days, he suffers by denying himself his much needed relief and then they finally give in and he resumes masturbating, thank God, until one day, another alien female appears in his room, this one looking like the previous one, but docile. Because she, too, has been lobotomized. And he’s so appalled, he is determined not to take advantage of this poor thing, and that lasts about 10 minutes before her fervor takes him out and she’s on him, sliding up and down. But this time, he takes precautions. I don’t know what they are. They aren’t spelled out. I guess he either pulls out or has anal sex with her, but he’s determined not to get her pregnant. But one morning he wakes to find that she’s astride him, riding him, vaginally, and before he knows it and can help himself, he ejaculates inside of her and guess what? Yep, she gets pregnant. Knowing he can’t take it again, he does what, I forget, it all runs together. I think this time he merely breaks her neck.

By this time, I’m so disgusted that there’s virtually no real sci fi, other than spurious aliens who do nothing other than think of human sex, and nothing in this book other than sex on every page and the occasional murder, that I’m done, I give up in disgust. It might turn out that this trilogy could turn out to be decent, but I’m not going to be around to find out. It’s not worth the effort to me. I don’t want to be this disgusted long enough to try. Busby is a disgusting pervert. A no talent hack who can’t write worth shit, who should have been writing for Hustler, if he was even that good, which I doubt. Maybe when I sell it to the used bookstore, I’ll get a quarter for it. Needless to say, this is at best a one star book and most certainly not recommended.

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