`Lulu' is too big a name for this documentary text, if one compares it with Frank Wedekind's play or G.W. Pabst's movie with the sexiest actress ever screened, Louise Brooks.
The text is a relentless and explicit suite of sexual encounters, a more or less rewriting of some chapters of Psychopatia Sexualis.
But, readers are mostly not interested (any more) in pure sex gymnastics, only in what the protagonists feel, experience or think before, during and after, in what their motives are (conquest, love, hate, revenge, prestige, victory in a competition, procreation, bonding, phantasms, fantasies, domination ...) and in what the results are ((dis)satisfaction, no satisfaction, feel good, comradeship, jealousy, superficial or deep joy, disappointment, peace, destruction ...).
`Art' is not an expression of emotions or pure descriptions, but the skill (of the art-isan) of instilling emotions in those who enjoy art (the reader, the listener, the spectator). `Art' should be a revelation of original aspects of human life, of nature, of the world around us. Art is raising burning questions, presenting unexpected turns or revealing hidden or secret social relevancies.
What is the emotional value of this text? Nada.
What is the technical value? What are the burning questions? Nichts, except next time oral or anal? Threesome or `more'some? The text is nothing more than a suite of sexual happenings (facts).
Into the bargain, the author discloses part of the story before it happens: `He's never liked f. with his clothes on.' So ...
There is also a lot of `navel watching': then I did this, after this I did that.
I cannot recommend this book.
As an alternative, I highly recommend the works of Guy de Maupassant, and certainly his short novel (with his own introduction) `Pierre et Jean'.