However, the book was not without controversy. Some feminist critics argued that despite Pilcher’s inclusion of female creators, the volume still focused disproportionately on male-dominated "cheesecake" art. Pilcher responded in subsequent interviews that Volume 1 is a history of what existed , not a wish-list, and that the 1970s feminist erotic comics were genuinely harder to find in archives. Nevertheless, this critique spurred more research into the field.

Pilcher begins with the "Venus figurines" and moves to ancient Greece, where pottery depicted explicit sex acts next to heroic battles. He draws a direct line from these artifacts to the satirical caricatures of William Hogarth and Thomas Rowlandson in England. Here, the author posits that "obscenity" was a class weapon—the elite frowned upon erotic art not because it was "dirty," but because it mocked authority.

Upon release, was met with surprising mainstream praise. Publishers Weekly called it "a surprisingly sober and enlightening art history primer," while The Guardian noted that Pilcher "never lets the academic stick slip into the gutter of prurience."

You’ll learn that:

For those willing to look past the blush factor, offers a masterclass in how the margins of art influence the mainstream. Whether you are researching for a thesis or simply want to marvel at the daring ink lines of a 1940s pin-up, this graphic history deserves a place on your shelf.

In , Pilcher argues a controversial thesis: Erotic comics are not a deviation from the medium’s purpose; they are the medium’s origin . He points out that the earliest known sequential art—from Roman frescoes to Japanese shunga scrolls—almost always contained sexual or scatological humor. By the time we reach the invention of the printing press, Pilcher shows that erotic imagery was the primary driver of mass-produced visual storytelling.

You are the target audience if:

★★★★½ (Lost half a star only because we desperately wish for an expanded, full-color third edition including digital-era content.)

This is the book’s centerpiece. Most people believe comics were for children until the 1960s. Pilcher destroys that myth by reproducing dozens of "headlight comics" (so named because of the pronounced female breasts) and the "Good Girl Art" of the 1940s. He explores the work of Matt Baker, Bill Ward, and Bob Powell—artists who toed the line between pin-up and narrative. The chapter closes with the infamous 1954 Senate hearings on juvenile delinquency, led by Dr. Fredric Wertham. Pilcher brilliantly dissects how the anti-comics crusade used erotic art as a scapegoat, leading to the creation of the draconian Comics Code Authority (CCA), which effectively banned sex in comics for three decades.