David Brin has written a book about a feminist utopia. It's about a planet which has been settled by idealistic women seeking an escape from the harsh, bestial code of natural human society…

The founding mothers were planning to do without men all together. But they discovered there is something in sperm that's necessary for the health of the placenta so—rather than bottle the something—they decided to build themselves some big, hunky blokes. They then endowed these hunks (presumably on the grounds that Mother Nature doesn't mean things to be easy) with a longish rutting season during which lavishly appointed brothels have to be provided to contain their urges, because NO WOMAN IS SAFE IN THEIR COMPANY; and endowed themselves with a similar season during which they are just dying for it and the men aren't interested, so that these radical feminists are forced to don flimsy negligés and ooze about like extras in a Star Trek harem scene… Well, women are fools and masochists, I'd be the first to agree. The first thing the boldly going separatists do is reinvent rape and prostitution? Nothing more likely!

Since the men have been built impossible to house-train, they have a separate and more or less autonomous existence. The women rule on land. The men have the sea, coming on shore only to deliver their cargoes and to fuck—usually, in order to add that vital placenta nourishing ingredient to parthenogenetic conception, occasionally, actually to father boys and the girl ‘variants’ who save the female clone communities from stagnation. This is a useful situation, since we have only to put to sea in order to escape from the dreary prospect of a feminist utopia novel all about women: and because no male character embarrasses the general reader by having to endure the intimate, constant, insidious dominance behaviour that a woman among men suffers in the real world. If a man does get in among the women unarmed—as it were—he still doesn't have to act cowed, defer, watch his manners, none of that nonsense. Note the retired sailor janitor in the girls’ school (in my uncorrected proofs, I have to allow) who goes about pinching bottoms, rousing ‘girlish shrieks of delighted outrage…’