Last month I reread The Voyeur’s Motel, Gay Talese’s immoral, shocking, and hypnotizing portrait of a pervert who pimps out his motel to view the sexual habits of his guests. Like passing a car crash on the highway, I can’t help myself from looking at how the events transpired. I’ve read a lot of nonfiction in my day, and this is one of those books that really tests its audience and pushes the limits of what’s acceptable to publish. How do you accurately portray a sick freak like Gerald Foos, the book’s titular voyeur? Do you humanize him or demonize his actions? What level of journalistic integrity do you owe a man like that? Your audience? And what does it say about an audience who can’t put down this book despite its reprehensible subject matter?
This book is endlessly fascinating to discuss. The twisted (uniquely American) psychology of its subject matter, the shocking episodes depicted in the voyeur’s journals, the author’s role in the voyeur’s life, human nature, and even the nature of the nonfiction writing are all called into question and ripe for picking apart. Should this book exist? Probably not, but I am glad it does. I’m also glad my book club did not kick me out after I picked this book for us to read.
4/5