If you haven't been watching the talk shows, listening to the radio, reading the reviews, or reading the fiery condemnations in the editorial pages, you don't know that the kiss for which Kathryn Harrison's book is named is one shared by the author and her father. This isn't just any kiss; it's a hard kiss, with tongues, and it doesn't stop there. However, descriptions of The Kiss make more lurid and sensational copy than the book itself. It's really a memoir about the incestuous relationship between Harrison and her estranged father, begun when she was 20 and lasting four years. More importantly, it's an examination of the author's numerous battles: with eating disorders, with alienation from her mother, and the monster struggle between the desire to have her father in her life and the knowledge that the relationship is destroying her sense of self and well-being. Short chapters contain a few snapshot scenes from her life, painting pictures of the author as pawn, even victim, of circumstance and the domineering will of her father. Harrison does not seem to assume any responsibility for her actions—despite the fact that she was 20 years old and had serious misgivings from the start—but that aside, her story is fascinating and engrossing, and it treats the incest taboo bluntly without familiarizing or glorifying it.