Verdict: Despite its somewhat provocative title, SEX, SHARKS AND ROCK & ROLL is less a comment on on the author's libido and more a compelling celebration of his life as a Marine biologist.
Despite its somewhat provocative title, SEX, SHARKS AND ROCK & ROLL is less a comment on the author’s libido and more a compelling celebration of his life as a Marine biologist.
More often than not, the rock star and/or celebrity autobiography manipulates readers with the promise of tantalizing rampant sex and drug use within the pages in order to get them to read their true purpose in writing it. Rick Springfield and Belinda Carlisle, although peppering their works with sex and drugs, really are trying to air the mental problems behind all of the hedonism. For both it was manic depression that couldn’t be fed with cocaine and threesomes. Even former adult “stars” use this trick; their autobiographies are really about the hole in their souls (usually from being raped by their fathers) that almost constant sex and bulging—pun not intended—bank accounts cannot fill.
The author does the same thing, promising the reader sexual athleticism. But it is readily apparent that Correia, who does sell pornographic items on the side, is really interested in the “shark” portion of the title. In page after page the author details the mating habits of sharks (about as erotic as describing a telephone book); the differences between various fish; and how he tracks and then “heals” them via serums. If he has fantasies they are military in nature; he refers to those on his Marine biology team, on cruises to catch sea life, as his “band of brothers.”
The author’s close calls are not being caught in compromising positions by his wife, but in how sharks rush him when he is trying to heal them. But if there is any “perversion” in this book it is linked to a possible bestiality on his part:
“The process by which sharks make baby sharks involves the male chasing down the female, then biting hard on one of her pectoral fins, then curling his tail around hers, pinning her down on the bottom (or midwater) and finally inserting one of his two woo-hoos (that’s right, male sharks have two) in the female’s woo-hoo. Admit it, you either giggled or got horny. Don’t be ashamed. It’s only human.”
Of all the fish, it is apparent that it is sharks that fascinate him the most. The closest the reader gets to the author’s bizarre personality is that it was watching as a child the movie Jaws, which made most people not want to go into the water, which compelled Correia to get into the ocean with these predators.
He is so fascinated by these predators that, in one instance, involving a close call in medicating a shark, he tries to enter into its mindset:
“Nearly exhausted, both Vítor and I took turns swimming the shark, actively moving forward while holding its pectoral fins and forcing water through its mouth into the gills, desperately hoping to feel that kick they give you as if saying “I can take it from here, buddy. Thanks for your help, but you’re still an asshole for pulling me out of my home, you fucking son of a bitch…”
For those wanting a journey into a perverse life-style, or an erotic thrill (assuming that the shark mating process doesn’t turn you on), Correia’s book will disappoint. But for those interested or potentially interested or having an untapped fascination with sea life, this book is compelling; powered by Correia’s obvious and contagious enthusiasm.
~Ron Capshaw for IndieReader