Interesting format. Powlinson interviews "Bob" about his pornography addiction. "Bob" describes the dynamics of the addiction, how he came to realize its power in his life, and the steps he took to overcome it, with emphasis on the help he found from God and from his local church fellowship. Would be a helpful resource to anyone struggling with this issue. ( )

This pamphlet by Pennsylvania psychiatrist and biblical counselor David Powlison is less of a guide to battling pornography than it is a personal testament against the evils of masturbation. Entirely in the format of an interview transcript between Powlison and "Bob", the reader is led through a confessional of Bob's life-long struggle with the sins of impure thought and choking the chicken, and how he overcame these urges by realizing that his selfish drives were unfair to God. There are references to Bob's attraction to dirty magazines and films, but never in the volume or usage that would indicate any kind of real addiction to pornographic materials. Odds are it was decided that a work published for distribution among religious circles couldn't really have such an unseemly word like "masturbation" plastered across the cover.

In fact, when Bob does talk about his need for pornography, he often does so in a way that would probably seem humorous to somebody with a real pornography problem. "I was constantly on the prowl for images," confesses Bob, referring to himself as a "sexual predator" for having impure thoughts of women he would see in public, and despite having never "committed fornication or adultery," states that he has "committed some terrible sins."

To even a casual reader, it becomes readily apparent that Bob - if he is a real person and not just a fictitious amalgam created by the author - has some serious issues that transcend spanking the monkey while fantasizing about the cashier at Target. He insists that he "began to struggle with sexuality from puberty onward," which in many ways describes puberty in itself. He although claims to have endangered his soul with his addiction to masturbation and pornography, yet says that "masturbation wasn't that frequent," and that he would sometimes "go six months between indulgences in pornography," which, if Bob is a fictional character, seems like the author's ham-fisted way of implying that even casual or moderate flounder-pounding can be the sign of a soul-crippling deviant lifestyle.

Bob's confessions get even more bizarre. Stressing over the "seductive, predatory mode" he is living his life in, Bob asks himself at one point where all of this yanking the crank might lead. "Would I commit adultery if I had the opportunity? Would I go on to molest children? Would I get aroused homosexually?" Not only does this seem naive and illogical, but it also feels like a lame attempt by the author to somehow link clearing the snorkel with pedophilia and - GASP! - gay sex. And notice how homosexual tendencies top pedophilia on Bob's rising list of immoral consequences? Interesting, to say the least.

Bob later makes allusions to his abstinence from buffing the banana resulting in him being less abusive to his wife, and casual drops the bombshell about "an incident when I was molested by a baby sitter," with no explanation or follow-up by either him or his psychiatrist/counselor interviewer, as if this couldn't possibly be an indication of deeply-rooted psychological issues more serious than the occasional urge to play pocket pinball, or going to church and letting your eyes "sweep over the 'singles row.'" (They segregate unmarried people in church?)

The nail in the coffin for reason or logic comes in the last paragraph, in which Bob recalls a friend once telling him that "Indulging in pornography is like getting a fix of cocaine or some other drug." If Bob's experiences with stroke mags and flogging the log are the same as drug addiction, I don't see any reason not to go out and get "a fix of cocaine" this afternoon. I'm sure Powlison meant this to be a serious diatribe against the sins of Onan, but unless you're as deluded or confused as "Bob" appears to be, the result is a rather humorous example of how hard it can be to turn something as inherently and genetically natural as jerkin' the gherkin into a debilitating corruption of your immortal soul. ( )