| Vintage Pulp | Mar 13 2020 |
If I'd known being evil was this much fun I'd have started doing it years ago.
For a novel of terror and obsession Henry Kane's 1963 thriller Frenzy of Evil has a pretty cheery cover. Apparently being evil is unmitigated joy. Obviously, this is another one of those paintings that was made independently of the book, then grabbed because it was available. It's jarringly out of sync with the title, as well as the story. What you get here is a rather elegantly written tale about a rich old guy and his hot young wife, and the dark road his jealousy and sadism carry him down. Basically, he's convinced she's cheating and decides to murder her bedmate—as soon as he figures out who it is. The funny part is she isn't cheating at all. But the main character is so amoral that the possibility of her fidelity never occurs to him. His mistaken assumption foreshadows several other errors, including a crucial one concerning the identity of his wife's not-really-lover. The story is filled out by numerous other characters, some of whom have their own demons and problems that might push them to consider murder too. Enjoyable stuff from Kane. Our first book from him, but probably not our last.
| Vintage Pulp | Feb 26 2020 |
Sam Spade chases danger in Dashiell Hammett story collection.
Run don't walk to find any Dashiell Hammett book. He's mandatory reading. In A Man Called Spade you get a tale about a boxer and the fight racket, three stories starring Sam Spade, and, “The Assistant Murderer,” in which Hammett introduces readers to detective Alec Rush, whose physical ugliness is surpassed only by his mental acuity. Hammett really liked the idea of crime solvers who came in unlikely packages. His Continental Op character was short and fat, while Rush had a face only a mother could love. Hammett, a former detective himself, was thin, dapper, and handsome, but he clearly identified with these characters and wanted to de-glamorize detectives. In so doing he became one of most popular authors of detective fiction who ever lived. Besides several nice stories, as a bonus this Dell paperback from 1950 with Robert Stanley cover art is also a mapback edition, as you see below. You have to appreciate how Dell included these maps even when the narrative dictated that they be minimal at best. A Man Called Spade is a good example. All the action in the title story takes place in a single house, and largely in a single room. But Dell gave readers a map anyway. Consistency counts. See alternate art for this book here.
| Vintage Pulp | Jan 11 2020 |
When an unknown neighbor commits murder peace of mind is the next casualty.
It's always nice to come across a book with a fresh approach. This book for example, The Woman on the Roof by Helen Nielsen, deals with a disturbed woman who has the key clues to a murder mystery due to being able to see directly into a neighbor's apartment. But she's considered a kook by family, friends, and the police, who've interacted with her before on the occasion of her being committed to a mental institution. Upon her release she wanted nothing more than peace and tranquility, but now she's a murder witness. Socially awkward, afraid of people, obsessive compulsive, and psychically tethered to the garage-top apartment that is her sole safe zone, this killing thing really turns her life upside down.
There's a great sequence where the character gets lost on the streets of L.A., and seeing the city from her point of view, experiencing all its nocturnal strangeness and indecipherable cacophony and perceived danger through her eyes, is tremendously affecting. We can't remember feeling that level of sympathy for a character in a jam in a long time. Not sure many male authors could have pulled it off quite as deftly. Nielsen's good ideas, written well with a unique angle on murder—figuratively and literally—made for a very worthwhile read. It was originally published in 1954, and the Dell paperback you see above appeared in 1956 with excellent cover art by William George.
There's a great sequence where the character gets lost on the streets of L.A., and seeing the city from her point of view, experiencing all its nocturnal strangeness and indecipherable cacophony and perceived danger through her eyes, is tremendously affecting. We can't remember feeling that level of sympathy for a character in a jam in a long time. Not sure many male authors could have pulled it off quite as deftly. Nielsen's good ideas, written well with a unique angle on murder—figuratively and literally—made for a very worthwhile read. It was originally published in 1954, and the Dell paperback you see above appeared in 1956 with excellent cover art by William George.
| Hollywoodland | Jan 5 2020 |
Supplementary material on the Thelma Jordan case.
We ran across these production shots from the film noir The File on Thelma Jordon, starring Barbara Stanwyck and Wendell Corey, and thought they were worth a share. They were made in 1949 and the film premiered in the U.S. today in 1950. We talked about it last year.
| Vintage Pulp | Dec 18 2019 |
The first step in any investigation is to get your translations right.
Dagli archivi della polizia criminale, which premiered in Italy today in 1973, falls into the category of Italian cinema known as poliziottesco. Apparently, this never had a U.S. release, since it lacks an English title, but the Italian title translates as “from the criminal police archives.” Sounds pretty straightforward. We gave it a watch and it's an incredibly cheesy thriller about the chase for microfilm containing information that could smash a Tunisian drug ring. The cops had it at one point, but the chief inspector stored it in the largest but least safe safe in town and it was immediately stolen by an opportunistic officer with predatory capitalist tendencies. Now the police are looking for him, the crooks are looking for him, and both the cops and robbers are taking bullets and beatings all over the place. The movie stars Edmund Purdom, a prolific but somewhat unknown actor, and has a supporting cast featuring Cleofe Del Cile, Sergio Ciani, Miriam Alex as an investigative journalist, bodybuilder Gordon Mitchell, and bodybuilt Zula, who does a nude dance number in what's supposed to be a Tunisian nightclub.
While Zula is a highlight, this production resides squarely in the atrocious category, and that's even without the disastrous English subtitles that were on the version we saw. A digression: back when we lived in Guatemala, Patrick Swayze's Road House would come on television occasionally. No idea why. The movie had been in cinemas more than a decade earlier. We guess Guatemaltecos loved Swayze's balletic moves and winning smile. Anyway, at one point Sam Elliot describes how dumb the clientele at his bar is, and tells Swayze, “This place has a sign hangin' over the urinal that says, 'Don't eat the big white mint.'” But whoever did the subtitles didn't hear “mint.” The translation they decided on was, “No te comas los grandes hombres blancos”—“Don't eat the big white men.” See what a difference that makes? And the movie was broadcast that way over and over, no correction ever made. The point is subtitles really matter. Dagli archivi della polizia criminale had really bad ones. A sampling below:
There's a gym for boxing in the nearby. In order to not get caught our men will wear some sweaters.
Look at him carefully, you have to do an oddjob on the side.
This time it's all my credit. Let me be thanked for compliments.
Don't be scared. I'm the best Teddy Webb's friend.
Miriam Alex: What sort of journalist would I be if I didn't pry into others' business? Ed Purdom: There's nothing to discover inside my business.
We did nothing but breaking his bones. If you resist the worse will happen.
What are we waiting to gun for him?
Maybe they even take offence it.
The seeing this was been the worse ever.*
The seeing this was been the worse ever.*
*Actually, we made that one up. Don't watch this movie. It's really bad.
ItalyTunisiaBrazilDagli archivi della polizia criminaleEdmund PurdomZulaCleofe Del CileGordon MitchellZulaSergio Cianiposter artcinemapoliziottescomovie review
| Vintage Pulp | Nov 26 2019 |
Time for a fresh spin on the Caroselli.
It's been more than a year since we featured Benedetto Caroselli, the best paperback illustrator Italy ever had to offer, in our opinion. He painted hundreds of covers, all executed at the highest level. Below you see nine more. 
ItalyBenedetto CaroselliHugh NorthAnthony PriceHerta GreyJack CabotMatteo BandelloRoland GreavesLucas GromRalph FresnayJames Darrencover artcover collectionliterature
| Vintage Pulp | Nov 22 2019 |
It's always darkest just before the dawn.
Celia Fremlin's 1958 novel The Hours Before Dawn was lauded by the Mystery Writers of America. You can see that for yourself by looking at the cover of its 1961 Dell paperback edition. You would assume, then, that the book is a murder mystery or thriller. Yes and no—it's really more of a domestic drama about a British woman named Louise who's overwhelmed by her three kids and husband. She's tired, stressed, unhappy, unlaid, and unlikely to find space for a breather or a recharge. Into this mix comes a woman who rents the family's vacant upstairs room and adds to Louise's problems by proving to be one weird bird. Who is this woman, where did she come from, and why does it seem as though her presence is not a random event? Yes, there's a mystery, but the vast bulk of the narrative is about Louise's daily life, her struggles with child rearing, her nosy and obtuse neighbors, and the problems caused by her accumulating lack of sleep.
Even without the mysterious renter angle this would be a good book. We thought we understood, basically, what it meant to be a mid-century housewife, but we were wrong. Fremlin brings Louise to life by dissecting her challenging existence, baring every bit of it for the reader's increasingly sympathetic inspection. Love is not the issue. Nor is desire. The issue is simply time. And rest. And peace. No wonder then that her boarder is able to embark upon an insidious plot without very much worry of close observation, and of course when Louise begins to understand something is truly amiss—and is not just the imaginings of her weary brain—she finds it devilishly difficult to find an ally, within her household or without. A mystery novel? Well, yes, but not of the type that can be puzzled out by readers. A highly effective depiction of all the ways in which a woman can work so hard and so thanklessly? One of the better ones you'll read.
Even without the mysterious renter angle this would be a good book. We thought we understood, basically, what it meant to be a mid-century housewife, but we were wrong. Fremlin brings Louise to life by dissecting her challenging existence, baring every bit of it for the reader's increasingly sympathetic inspection. Love is not the issue. Nor is desire. The issue is simply time. And rest. And peace. No wonder then that her boarder is able to embark upon an insidious plot without very much worry of close observation, and of course when Louise begins to understand something is truly amiss—and is not just the imaginings of her weary brain—she finds it devilishly difficult to find an ally, within her household or without. A mystery novel? Well, yes, but not of the type that can be puzzled out by readers. A highly effective depiction of all the ways in which a woman can work so hard and so thanklessly? One of the better ones you'll read.
| Vintage Pulp | Nov 10 2019 |
Tarzan destroyed on social media after posting photo of himself with lion he killed for sport.
Tarzan and the Lost Empire, originally serialized in 1928 and ’29 in Blue Book Magazine, was entry twelve in Edgar Rice Burroughs' Tarzan series, and some would say the concept had jumped the shark—and the lion—at this point. Basically, Tarzan stumbles upon a remnant of the Roman Empire hidden deep in the mountains somewhere in Africa and—as this 1951 cover by Robert Stanley depicts—is dragged into their coliseum bloodsports. In later books he'd venture to a subterranean world, find a city of talking gorillas, and fly a fighter plane for the RAF (maybe that one isn't so strange, since he had the civilian identity of John Clayton).
Burroughs was never mistaken for a great writer, but his Tarzan books sold millions of copies and the character remains one of the best known in pulp literature. As tough as he was, we doubt even the King of the Jungle could have survived social media. But Tarzan was not one with whom to trifle. We can totally picture an adventure where he goes to Silicon Valley to battle the forces of shame. It ends when he learns the evil mastermind is Mark Zuckerberg, swings on a DSL cable into Facebook, and lays waste to the place. “Shame me, Zuckerberg? Me Tarzan! You lame!”
| Vintage Pulp | Nov 7 2019 |
Somewhere between Hollywood and Rome lay the wild frontier.
Above, numerous Italian posters for 1960s and 1970s westerns. Some of these movies were true spaghetti westerns (produced in Italy and shot in Europe, often Spain), while others are U.S. productions. All the imagery is beautiful. The artists responsible include Renato Casaro, Rodolfo Gasparri, Averardo Ciriello, Aller, aka Carlo Alessandrini, et al.
ItalyJessi's GunIl prezzo del potereLa banda delle donne maldetteIo non Perdono...uccidoPreparati la bara!!L'uomo che doveva uccidere il suo assassinoPassa sartana... é l'omba della tua morteSpara Joe... e così sia!Soldato bluSoldier BlueL'ultimo ApacheApacheShango la pistola infallibileLa texana e i fratelli PenitenzaHannie CaulderIIl grido di guerra dei SiouxRed TomahawkDjuradoRenato CasaroRodolfo GasparriAverardo CirielloAllerCarlo Alessandrinimovie postercinemaspaghetti western
| Vintage Pulp | Oct 29 2019 |
Actually, I'll pay first. I once bought a television on installments and I can tell you easy financing is a scam.
This cover illustration from Robert McGinnis features one of his more famous elongated femmes fatales. He's also cleverly included iconic detective art objects such as a pistol, a martini glass, a smoldering cigarette, and a tumbler of some amber liquid or other, and with some nifty positioning he's placed all these items clearly in view why keeping the poses of his stylized figures easy and balanced. And for good measure his femme has lost a heel, which invites speculation as to how that happened. That's GGA (good girl art) at its best.
Could Robert Kyle's, aka Robert Terrall's, aka Brett Halliday's 1960 thriller Kill Now, Pay Later possibly be as good as its cover art? That's a big ask. Too big, really, though the book is pretty good. Kyle's franchise detective Ben Gates is hired to guard gifts at a high society wedding, but someone slips a mickey into his coffee and he's in la-la land while two murders and a robbery occur. As a matter of self preservation he has to solve the crimes or his chances of securing more work will be pretty slim. After all, who'd hire a detective that passes out on the job?
So Gates delves into the mystery, unravels a complicated plot, and handles the advances of three beautiful women. We think of these babe-magnet detectives as the male analogue to the dewy maidens of romance novels. As male wish fulfillment goes, Kill Now, Pay Later gets the job done, offering up a tough and competent protagonist and an engaging assortment of secondary personalities. This was third in the Gates series after Blackmail, Inc. and Model for Murder. We'll probably try to locate those. Kyle/Terrall/Halliday knows how to entertain a reader.
Could Robert Kyle's, aka Robert Terrall's, aka Brett Halliday's 1960 thriller Kill Now, Pay Later possibly be as good as its cover art? That's a big ask. Too big, really, though the book is pretty good. Kyle's franchise detective Ben Gates is hired to guard gifts at a high society wedding, but someone slips a mickey into his coffee and he's in la-la land while two murders and a robbery occur. As a matter of self preservation he has to solve the crimes or his chances of securing more work will be pretty slim. After all, who'd hire a detective that passes out on the job?
So Gates delves into the mystery, unravels a complicated plot, and handles the advances of three beautiful women. We think of these babe-magnet detectives as the male analogue to the dewy maidens of romance novels. As male wish fulfillment goes, Kill Now, Pay Later gets the job done, offering up a tough and competent protagonist and an engaging assortment of secondary personalities. This was third in the Gates series after Blackmail, Inc. and Model for Murder. We'll probably try to locate those. Kyle/Terrall/Halliday knows how to entertain a reader.
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