Thursday, August 15, 2013

WORDSLINGERS: An Epitaph for the Western by Will Murray


Will Murray's new book from Altus Press is not technically a history of the Western pulp magazine. Though Wordslingers contains enough info for someone to assemble a traditional history, it's much more than that. Actually, it might be a whole new breed of book. I’m not sure there’s ever been anything like it before.

Will spent years searching the pages of Writer’s Digest and similar magazines for letters and articles that tell the story—as it was happening—in the words of the writers and editors who made the pulp westerns happen, then put it all into historical context.

The result is a narrative taking us from the birth of the Western pulp in 1906 to the field's last gasp in 1960. In between are snippets from hundreds of articles, chronicling the growth and development of the genre and the numerous rises and falls of the market.

In his Introduction, Will describes it thusly: What follows is a species of oral history, employing found quotes, developed so that the author recedes into the role of omniscient organizer, sometimes disappearing altogether, in order to allow the participants of the past to spin the sage of their literary labors.

That sounds a bit too modest to me. Will has obviously devoted an incredible amount of time and effort to this book, and much of his own personality is evident on its pages.

What emerges in the course of the book’s 453 pages is the rarely-mentioned truth that the Western pulps were largely responsible for creating the mythic West we still hold dear. The early Western pulps, taking a cue from the dime novels, focused almost exclusively on gunfighters, sheriffs, outlaws and shootouts. While those were all genuine elements of the Old West, they were, in the great scheme of things, of miniscule importance. But those were the characters and events that captured the public’s imagination and sold magazines. Hollywood jumped on the same bandwagon, and side-by-side the pulps and the movies fed the American appetite for The West That Never Was.

The letters and articles are fascinating, providing insight into the minds of many well-known writers, some of whom survived the fall of the field to find success in paperback and hardcover, and some who flared briefly and were never heard from again.

The Western pulps, like other magazines, were hit hard by circumstances beyond their control—particularly wartime paper shortages and the Depression—but the insiders seemed oblivious to such forces. At every decline in sales, they were quick to blame the quality of the stories, and fought wars of words over whether the editors or the writers were most to blame.

Much of the blame was heaped upon the head of the one-dimensional “gun dummy” who ruled the roost during the first big boom of the Western pulp market. No one (except apparently the readers) liked the gun dummy and all agreed his time had passed. But no matter what new twists the writers and editors came up with, the gun dummy had been ingrained in the American psyche and he never stopped selling magazines.

Another argument that raged for years involved editors’ constant pleas for “something different.” All editors wanted it, but none knew quite what it was. Writers who took them seriously and submitted something truly different were rewarded with rejection slips, so the smart ones found ways to make only surface changes, like putting different clothes on the same old characters, or adding new angles to the same old plots.

Wordslingers has it all: The economic factors. The impact of world events. The changing face (and mind) of the reading public. The editors who helped widen the field, and those who strove to keep it narrow. The never-ending rivalry between writers who walked the real West versus those who'd never been west of New York.

The death of the Western pulps was foretold many times, but it always bounced back--always, that is, until paperbacks and television cornered the Western market in the 1950s. Though the magazines are gone, their legacy lives on in the American consciousness, and will never be fully separated from our less prosaic history. 

Wordslingers captures the joy and the sadness of the 50-year saga of these history making (and history remaking) magazines. It’s much more than a good read—it’s an experience. Experience it yourself!


Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Overlooked Films: Popeye the Sailor Meets Sindbad the Sailor (1936)


The Popeye of the Fleischer (and later Paramount) cartoons was far less interesting - and less adventurous - than the E.C. Segar character of the 1930s comic strips, but he had his moments. His supreme moment came in this 17-minute film from 1936. Fleischer pulled out all the stops on this one, applying glorious Technicolor, and introducing new techniques to produce 3D effects without glasses. Enjoy!

More Overlooked Films at SWEET FREEDOM.

Sunday, August 11, 2013

The BLACK MASK Art of Arthur Rodman Bowker

 "Heir to Murder" by James Duncan

I've been looking at Arthur Rodman Bowker's interior illos in Black Mask for a great many years, but wasn't particularly impressed by them until recently, when I separated a few from the magazine. Standing alone, in black and white, they have a power I had never noticed. These three illustrations were scanned from the August 1936 issue. More coming soon.

 "Homicide Cue" by Nels Leroy Jorgensen

"Border Blockade" by Roger Torrey

See more Bowker illos HERE.

Keith Deutsch has asked me to say that this artwork is copyright © Keith Alan Deutsch as successor to Popular Publications, Inc. Here you go, Keith!

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Louie Armstrong sings "The Ballad of Davy Crockett"



My apologies for the saccharin Disney imagery. It couldn't be helped. Don't look, just listen.

Friday, August 9, 2013

Forgotten Jack Vance Books: Lyonesse - aka Suldrun's Garden (1983)


This ain't really a review. It’s more like 1/8 of a review, because this book has 434 pages, and I’ve only read 58 of them. Will I read more? Chances are slim.

Suldrun's Garden was described as historical high fantasy, so I expected to like it. I’ve read a fair amount of historical fiction and some standout high fantasy, so a combo seemed a pretty cool concept. But five chapters into the book, I’ve yet to see the point.

The setting is a vast collection of islands and mini-continents in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean (Atlantis territory) which are now lost to history. These lands are peopled by several races and several rival kingdoms, none of whom like each other much. There are occasional connections to the world beyond, like Roman ruins, trading ships that venture as far as Brittany, and encroaching Christianity.

Magic still works here. We see very little of it in the first 58 pages, but mention is made of mermaids, mermen, fawns and fairies. The heroine encounters semi-anthropomorphic chairs, and has actual face-time with a two-headed goblin and a magic mirror.

OK for purposes of a fantasy novel I can accept the notion that magic once existed and mythical beings roamed the earth. That’s Suspension of Disbelief 101. My problem is that Vance’s history is every bit as fanciful as his fantasy. This series (yes, it’s the first book of a trilogy) is set not long before the advent of King Arthur. If such a person actually existed - and that’s not impossible - it would have likely been around 700 A.D.

As I’m sure you know, the tales of King Arthur were put to paper sometime in the 12th Century, and portrayed the society of the 12th rather than the 6th Century. That’s a huge historical anachronism, and for purposes of Arthurian legend that‘s fine. But the Lyonesse series takes it a step further, giving us a 12th Century lost world before Arthurian times. I admire an author who plays games with history, but games upon games can get a little silly, and I find it distracting. I’d have preferred a straight fantasy.

On top of all that, the protagonist of this book, Suldrun, is a young girl. We meet her at four, check in at seven and again at ten, eleven and fourteen. The thing is, with rare exceptions (like maybe Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn) I despise stories with kid protagonists. Maybe Suldrun will get older. Maybe she’ll even grow up. But five chapters in she’s still a kid, and doesn’t interest me.

The same can be said of the story. So far it’s all set-up. We’re still being introduced to some of the world and some of the players, and getting hints of some of the possible conflict to come. But at this point the only storyline revolves around who, if anyone, Suldrun will be forced to marry. Ho hum. There‘s nothing to make me care what happens to Suldrun or her father the king or her mother or maids or goblins or magic chairs.

And yeah, there’s a garden, the one the book’s named after. But there’s nothing interesting about it, and nothing interesting has happened there. Jack Vance is a fine writer, as I know from other works, but do I really want to spend another 376 pages with this tiresome girl and her impossible world? And another 800-odd pages to complete the trilogy? The prospect holds little appeal.

Maybe it’s just me. In search of something different, I recently read The Sun Also Rises. It was OK, but seemed about 50% mundane narration, 30% travelogue, 10% bullfighting and 10% sexual frustration. I failed to see what all the fuss was about. I’m now twenty chapters into Anna Karenina, hailed as one of the greatest novels of all time. It’s OK too, but just that. It would seem I’m suffering from a major case of the literary blahs.

More Forgotten Vance Books (and others) at In Reference to Murder.