Book Review: Sexsassins

Reviewed by Nick Rees Gardner

A bizarre cocktail of World War II satire filled to the brim with innuendo and spiked with a dash of sci-fi weirdness

With a title like Sexsassins, one might expect to find pages filled with smut, a simplistic storyline with shallow characters, and a story bolstered by raunchy jokes. But Sean DeLauder’s novel poses a complex plot, and a certain depth emerges with each shocking twist.

It is 1942 and, in the States, Harden Weiner (it’s pronounced “Winner”) and Harold James attend a briefing about a series of murders. The causes of death: “terminal ecstacy.” High-profile targets all over the world are being “sexed to death” by the rogue agent Arnold Schwab. 

Weiner and James are tasked to collect Violet “the Velvet Angler” Madden, the original sexsassin trained by the US government and, with her help, put Schwab down. What follows is an international spy thriller as Harden, Harry, and Violet infiltrate enemy lines only to discover that the real danger isn’t the rogue agent Schwab, but the multinational group of robot-wielding superpowers who Schwab intends to destroy. The trio and Schwab travel together, danger dragging on their coattails, through a who’s who of famous WWII figures as they attempt to thwart the evil villain, code name: Deep Yellow.

While the title, Sexsassins, insinuates bad sex scenes and steamy romance, there is almost no sex on the page. The sexsassins kill with hip thrusts and lusty action rather than coitus and there are no romantic plotlines. However, innuendo and dirty jokes are prominent, beginning with the main character, Harden’s, last name: Weiner. The language often tends toward humor as well with several “thrusts” and “phalices” as the characters insert themselves behind enemy lines. In many ways, Sexsassins, is a book built around dirty jokes, playful, smart, but also without much deeper insight. But it is also driven by plot, which, while often silly, is complex and intriguing in its own right. 

Set during the height of World War II, Sexsassins reimagines the heroism and patriotism of war as a futile puppetshow, masterminded by a deep state conspiracy. When tasked to stop Schwab from sexsassinating Adolph Hitler, Violet monologues: “‘God, country, the American Way, all the self-righteous, nationalist bullshit [that] puts us an inch from being just like the fascists.’” What the group comes to understand as the story goes on is that their orders serve only those in power at the cost of a great many lives.

Rather than being overly didactic, DeLauder doesn’t wallow in philosophies on war or diatribes on deep-state conspiracies, but uses a softer, gentler, much more humorous approach. Characters such as Franklin Delano Roosevelt are satirized; the former president is not revered, but reduced to a slobbering, hapless drunk. Harry S. Truman is similarly clueless. It’s enough to bring a smile to the reader’s face while at the same time, encouraging questions about power structures and violent wars through history. In this way, Sexsassins succeeds at its job of using humor to enforce deeper thought. 

Equal parts suspense and humor keep the reader glued to the page, and though the reader may not come away with a greater understanding of the world, history, or sexual assassinations, they will certainly scan the final paragraphs with a smile on their face. Sexsassins is a ridiculous, hilarious, wild ride.

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