Garden of Eden, by Ernest Hemingway, seems to just be about a writer who’s angsting about his wife’s love for ass play.
I really wish I was joking. I really wish that I could assume I’m misunderstanding this.
He also complains about her tanning addiction and her habit of cutting her hair short (boy short the first time, buzz cut the second).
The funniest scenes in the book - although I doubt they’re meant that way - are when they’re having sex, and sometimes (specifically when she wants ass play) she makes him be her “girl” and calls him Catherine (her name).
BAHA.