Survival of the fittest  Helen Walsh has a novel take on
feminism - for her it means unlimited lapdancing from a front
row seat, respect from prostitutes if she's paying the fee,
sympathy for men, the true victims of porn, and a credo that
looks matter. She's 26, with a big mind, a fast mouth and a
first book coming out. Zoe Williams gets the hang of it  Helen
Walsh's first novel, Brass, is an incredibly uplifting
experience. I don't mean that in the sense that it is full of
redemption, or messages of hope, or helpful life lessons. Not
much could be further from the truth; about the most useful
lesson it has to offer is that you can drive, and not at all
badly, on really strong ecstasy. Besides that, the bad guys win,
the good guys come last and everyone else just gets good and
drunk. Actually, that's not entirely true - there are no bad
guys, only flawed ones, of whom the most blemished (yet charming
with it) is Millie, the protagonist. She has a lot of sex,
mainly with women, although she does go off-piste