Esmé Louise James’ “Kinky History: A Rollicking Journey through Our Sexual Past, Present, and Future” explores the history of sexuality in a compelling manner that will entertain and educate readers from academics through to casual readers while building on her social media and graduate work. She structures her book into five main subjects: sin, pleasure, queer identities, kink, and pornography. Each explores these works using classical texts as well as current historical analyses. Discussing contraception under the heading of sin, James explores historical forms of contraception, many of which may horrify modern readers. In the modern era, she links contraception to syphilis in the early sixteenth century following Jared Diamond’s research (p. 24). Similarly, in exploring sexual toys as a form of pleasure, James argues that correcting the false history of the vibrator is of critical importance. She writes, “It matters how we tell history. In linking the story of hysteria and the vibrator, we achieve a story that is funny, cheeky, and a little bit sexy – perfect for Hollywood and Broadway adaptations. It’s also insanely harmful. It paints women from recent history as mindless creatures who would allow doctors to essentially assault their bodies because their husbands said they’d been acting irrational. This isn’t the story we should be telling” (p. 84). Addressing queer history, James argues, “These stories have always been in the history books – we just need the right reading tools to be able to find them again. This is a task of great importance” (p. 95). To illuminate these stories, James highlights the lives of Elagabalus and Julius Caesar from ancient Rome, Anastasia the Patrician from sixth-century Byzantium, François-Timoléon de Choisy from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and an unnamed person from newspaper reports in the 1930s (p. 121-123). Further, she highlights cultures that recognized an intersex or third sex including the Galli in ancient Rome, the Mahu from pre-colonial Hawai‘i, and he Muxe people among the Zapotec community in pre-colonial and modern Mexico (p. 125). Though she cautions against mapping our current concepts of gender onto the past, James illuminates how LGBTQIA people have always been part of the human tapestry and have played a role throughout history while understanding gender as much more than a simple binary in their own times and terms. Turning to kink, James uses sources from the ancient world through James Joyce. She questions, “How much more could we learn about the function of a human if we stopped treating these desires as ‘freaky quirks’ and instead worked to show that they function in a holistic view of a human?” (p. 166). She moves from body parts to clothing to pain and more, alternating between literature, letters, scientific studies, and evidence from the ancient world through early modern history. In her final section, James examines pornography, though she touched on notions of pornographic materials throughout her study. She writes, “While we have a range of erotic art and literature dating back to the ancient world that we now classify as pornography, this was not even considered as a distinctly separate category until the early nineteenth century” (p. 210). Further, “pornography – a genre now often associated with heteronormative depictions of sexuality – was actually popularized as a genre by two (likely) queer men who wrote through the eyes of female sex workers” (p. 215). Above all, ethical production and consumption is important and James notes how one may healthily consume the material under these conditions, bringing her to her conclusion. James argues that sexuality is a form of empathy, best understood as a way to connect and worthy of understanding while dispelling myths. “Kinky History” is critical reading for the public with research that straddles the boundaries between popular and academic writing.