In Elis: Irish Call Girl, Anna Rajmon, a short story writer, essayist, and illustrator from Czechia, draws on her personal experience as a sex worker in Ireland and Czechia to tell her story. Rajmon clearly states in her introduction that her purpose in telling this story is to warn young women like her, who are contemplating entering this sordid world. She highlights the dangers which the sex industry intrinsically contains, and the negative physical and mental effects it has on those who ‘work’ within it.
Rajmon, following a series of doomed relationships which left her as a single mother in financial difficulties, found herself with no choice but to enter the sex trade in order to support her family. She enlisted with an escort agency based in Czechia, which had its sex workers travel across Ireland, staying in rented accommodation and being forced to ‘entertain’ all manner of perverts on a daily basis.
The agency had no qualms about sending some of the most horrific and abusive excuses for ‘men’ to Rajmon, who experienced their cruelty firsthand. Nor were the agency concerned if Rajmon had been physically or sexually assaulted in the course of a ‘working’ day – there were still other punters looking to pay for her ‘services’ whose money the agency was eager to take, regardless of what Rajmon felt.
That this ghastly situation took its toll on the author is not in question, and the book itself can be seen as a means of coming to terms with what she endured for four long years. Furthermore, readers are left in no doubt as to what she endured, for Rajmon describes the horrific acts and indignities which she suffered in jaw-dropping detail. It would take a heart of stone to feel no empathy for this remarkable woman, who confesses that she is only still alive today because of her love for her daughter.
Remarkable is one thing Anna Rajmon unquestionably is. For as harrowing as her story is, the fact that she has found the courage to tell that story is in itself commendable. It is helped by the fact that she is a capable storyteller – indeed, Anna Rajmon is an excellent writer who is able to make you feel the emotions she feels, and to picture the scenes she vividly describes. This mastery of written English, combined with the astonishing grasp of detail which she provides in sharing her memories, immerses the reader in her narraitve.
The way in which Rajmon has chosen to tell her story is both inspiring and instructive. She consciously employs sarcasm to make her story more palatable, and she does this well – Rajmon demonstrates a good eye for witticisms, and seems to know the right point at which to make light of an otherwise grotesque scene. Such scenes are made more vivid by the well-crafted illustrations, which enable the reader to picture what is being related in the narrative. Again, the humour of these illustrations lightens what is a fundamentally unhappy story, making it more accessible than tales of this kind usually are.
What Elis: Irish Call Girl does is to highlight the dangers of sex work – escorting, prostitution, call it what you will. And Rajmon herself does not shy from using the term ‘prostitution’ in her book, openly stating that she despises the world of ‘sexual services.’ It was a world which financial issues forced her into, not one she entered freely, and it was a world in which she never belonged.
When reading of Rajmon’s journey through the seedy underworld of Ireland’s sex trade, it’s hard not to conclude that sex work is a world in which no woman belongs. The exploitative and dangerous nature of the trade brutalises the women trapped within it, and Rajmon is frank about the fact that she still deals with the trauma of what she experienced:
“It’s like a walk in Jurassic Park; you’re on alert, waiting for the shadows of the past to devour you alive.”
Too often, prostitution is debated as something which should be either fully decriminalised or something which needs to be abolished. Activists and other interested parties rarely, if ever, bother to consult those who actually have worked within prostitution as to what the industry is like, let alone use their testimonies as the basis for making substantial changes.
It is therefore refreshing to read an informed, articulate writer like Rajmon and what she has to say about the subject. She pushes no agenda, but does outline what prostitution in Ireland and Czechia is like – her realism shows up how inadequate and ill-informed the activists on both sides are, which will ensure that said activists are unlikely to give her book the attention it deserves.
Those who want decriminalisation will find Rajmon’s unsparing picture of the vicious sex industry inconvenient to their cause, as the physical and psychological harm it inflicts is intrinsic to the nature of ‘sex work’ itself.
On the other hand, those who support abolition usually support the Nordic Model of prostitution law – the legal framework that was in force in Ireland when Rajmon “worked” here.
Such legislation makes selling sex legal, but paying for sex illegal. Her account shows how ineffectual such legislation is, as those working in prostitution are less likely to report ‘clients’ for fear of losing the custom needed to make a living. So those who support such legislation will also find Elis – Irish Call Girl a hindrance to their agenda.
But for anyone who truly wants to understand this world, Rajmon’s dark story is necessary reading.
Elis: Irish Call Girl is not an easy book to read, however, but not because of the presentation. Rajmon is an excellent stylist, has sarcastic humour in abundance, and communicates her story coherently. Nonetheless, the content of her book can be challenging, as some of the language used in it is definitely not politically correct, and in parts what Rajmon describes can be hard to read about. It’s hard to not have strong emotions stirred up when reading what some of the more beastly ‘clients’ did to her.
Nevertheless, for those who can handle it, it’s required reading. For readers will learn what effect the lifestyle of a sex worker will have on those who enter the “world’s oldest profession.” And they will learn it from a bright, literate young woman with a serious and informed case to make – a case which is made in a sarcastically funny manner, and in a very readable way.
Overall, Anna Rajmon has crafted a rare memoir which can make you feel strong emotions, laugh at the most inappropriate things, and think over matters that many prefer to remain ignorant of – even though they can potentially affect us all. As Rajmon puts it herself:
“I attempt to offer a detailed description not only of situations but also of places and people so that the reader can touch my past and taste a small portion of the world that is closer to us than we think.”
Hence why Elis: Irish Call Girl is required reading.
(c) Susan Begley
Order your copy of Elis: Irish Call Girl online here.
And read further memoir book reviews on Writing.ie here.
