After listening to Dorothy Johnston being interviewed on radio on her experiences in a massage parlour one would have expected a different kind of novel from Tunnel Vision. No doubt part of Johnston’s appeal as an interviewee came from the publicity blurb which announced that “she worked for a time in a massage parlour in the late 70s, and became involved in a conflict in St Kilda over whether prostitution should be legalized. She helped form a Prostitutes’ Action Group. Though Tunnel Vision isn’t autobiographical, the inspiration for it came partly from this experience.”

For those who wish for a realistic representation of the massage parlour business Johnston’s novel will be a disappointment: for those who desire titillation, try The Delta of Venus. But those longing for a lyrical, nostalgic circling through a world of prostitutes with healing thighs will be taken in by Johnston. She has created a fantasy world in which the warehouse is a whorehouse selling not only relieving massages but also the message that tunnel vision may be as liberating as it is narrowing. It is a novel of paradox.