Title: Hef's Little Black Book Author: Hugh M. Hefner and Beill Zehma Publisher: Harper Entertainment Publish Date: 2004 Pages: 183 Genres:: Autobiography, Non-Fiction, Pop culture Reviewer: SexHerald Staff

Rating:

Hef's Little Black Book is as cliché as the title. After all, who uses an address book these days? Don’t all the players carry little blackberries instead?

He gets away with it, though, because we love the clichés. We love the Playboy mansion, we love the busty blonde bunnies, and we love that sketchy robed man with a pipe in his hand. After all, he’s brought the dream to life in a sudsy wink-wink ring-a-ding-ding kind of way. At the risk of being cliché myself, dare I say that it’s playful?

The book has five sections, starting with Hef’s own entry into romance (failed). It’s a nice little opener, all about his high school love and how the loss influenced him into adulthood. I don’t know about you ladies, but that tells me that all men are really just high school boys. At least Hugh Hefner is, and that’s where his irrepressible romantic sense succeeds. Any other man would have failed at maintaining so many women at once, but we learn that little Hughie has maintained the idealistic romance and libido of a high school male. That’s the crazy genius that keeps the lifestyle from getting stale.

Unfortunately, while his lifestyle hasn’t grown stale and, in fact, is established and thriving (enthralling new little teen audiences with tongue-in-cheek music videos), the book could be a little more fresh. It uses the language of breathless starstruck bobby-soxers to maintain enthusiasm, including frequent exclamatory statements and original lines like “Shaken, not stirred” to describe the milk Hef drinks with his breakfast. After a while, I found the level of fascinating excitement difficult to maintain – I mean, do I really want a list of Hugh Hefner’s six eternally romantic film moments?

Nope.

I want the good stuff! I want to know exactly what happened when the Rolling Stones came to visit, not just the damage that they did. I want to know if Hugh ever does men in his orgies, if he lets his sons hang out with the bunnies, if he ever just gets tired of the women and masturbates in front of a mirror.

But he doesn’t tell, because he actually believes in everything he stands for – love, pleasure, and open relationships. Instead, he talks about movies, music, how he started the magazine on a shoe string, his ideas on marriage (marriage!), his fondness for PacMan and his recipe for fried chicken. It’s a brilliant little piece of marketing because it allows you entry into the world of Hugh Hefner while maintaining that discretion that allows Hugh Hefner to keep on doing so many.

Final word? Not a stunning expose, but I did find that bathtub picture titillating.