In this bold and intimate semi-autobiographical novel, La Maison, Emma Becker transports the reader behind the closed doors of a Berlin brothel, where she worked for two years not only to earn a living, but to immerse herself in a world she wanted to understand – and to write about with unflinching honesty. What emerges is a deeply personal, unsentimental, and often surprising account of life inside the brothel, where Becker explores not just the physical aspects of sex work, but the emotional, psychological, and social complexities that shape it.With frankness and literary insight, she recounts her encounters with clients, her growing self-awareness, and, most poignantly, the friendships and solidarity she finds among the other women who work there. Far from reducing sex work to cliché or voyeurism, Becker gives space to the quiet routines, shared laughter, private pain, and hard-won dignity of a profession often misunderstood and rarely written about from the inside.Part memoir, part sociological study, and wholly literary, La Maison challenges preconceptions about sex, agency, and femininity, offering a provocative and compassionate exploration of what it means to inhabit multiple identities—as worker, writer, woman, and witness.

In this bold and intimate semi-autobiographical novel, La Maison, Emma Becker transports the reader behind the closed doors of a Berlin brothel, where she worked for two years not only to earn a living, but to immerse herself in a world she wanted to understand – and to write about with unflinching honesty. What emerges is a deeply personal, unsentimental, and often surprising account of life inside the brothel, where Becker explores not just the physical aspects of sex work, but the emotional, psychological, and social complexities that shape it.With frankness and literary insight, she recounts her encounters with clients, her growing self-awareness, and, most poignantly, the friendships and solidarity she finds among the other women who work there. Far from reducing sex work to cliché or voyeurism, Becker gives space to the quiet routines, shared laughter, private pain, and hard-won dignity of a profession often misunderstood and rarely written about from the inside.Part memoir, part sociological study, and wholly literary, La Maison challenges preconceptions about sex, agency, and femininity, offering a provocative and compassionate exploration of what it means to inhabit multiple identities—as worker, writer, woman, and witness.