Saucy Movie Tales, July 1936.
This issue has eight stories, a cartoon, and a few short pieces of non-fiction filler. The illustrations, which sometimes fill an entire page, usually feature young women in scanty clothing. Bare breasts do appear, but only in the cartoon-like sketches that surround the table of contents. Four of the stories, scarcely over half of the magazine’s content, are set in California. Not surprisingly, they all feature people who work in the film industry. In the first story a studio detective solves an on-set murder while dealing with three hot babes. In the second a studio troubleshooter helps a sexy newcomer by hinting that she’s an incognito heiress. In the third a newsreel cameraman frees a Japanese hottie held captive by a Chinese tong. Finally, in the fourth an aspiring actress finagles her way into a film star’s movie and bed.
The cover promises titillation. The racy, full-color picture conjures up all sorts of naughty behavior. The title uses the code word “saucy” to indicate that risqué activities are portrayed. And the price, topping that of standard pulp mags by ten or fifteen cents, suggests something worth paying extra for. By modern standards it’s all pretty tame stuff. Explicit sex scenes are non-existent. When implied, sex is usually something that happens after the story ends. There’s no nudity, either, though the authors take every opportunity to describe the beauteous features of their female characters. For example, here’s a description (from pp. 57-58) of the woman rescued by the cameraman: “Her patrician, Oriental features were softly rounded, delicate, fascinatingly feminine. Large liquid brown eyes, half-closed, were slumbrous and passionate, her cerise lips full-blown and pouting. The pointed cones of her young breasts, arched incredibly upright and firm like twin, dawn-kissed mountain peaks of perfection. Her body was warmly curving; her hips swelled out in delicate, sweeping contours. . . .” How satisfied readers were with this sort of stuff is anybody’s guess. Today’s fans of Hollywood fiction, as long as they aren’t seeking literary merit, might find the stories amusing. This and other issues of Saucy Movie Tales, incidentally, have been republished by Adventure House and are now in print.
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THE DEALINGS OF DANIEL KESSERICH
No sooner do I crank out what I hoped would be a pretty definitive list of pre-1960 California fantasy and science fiction novels, then I come across a book by one of the genre’s best known craftsmen. Fritz Leiber (1910-1992) published a dozen novels and more than 200 short stories during a 50-year career. Sad to say, I had never heard of him. I’m cutting myself some slack for this failing, however, because the novel (novella, really) was published some 60 years after Leiber wrote it. As a result, it isn’t listed in my favorite bibliographical sources.
The Dealings of Daniel Kesserich by Fritz Leiber. Tor Books (1997), 125 pp.
George Kramer, a writer in his early thirties, arrives in a small desert town hoping to provide some solace to John Ellis, his old college roommate. Ellis’s wife Mary has just died after accidentally eating an orange laden with a powerful pesticide. First, however, Kramer decides to get together with another college friend who lives in town, Daniel Kesserich. He’s a strange fellow obsessed with time travel and other quasi-scientific pursuits. After Kessrich fails to answer the door, Kramer finds himself following a path of pebbles that unaccountably appear and lead to an orchard. When he returns to Kesserich’s house, the place explodes. In the debris Kramer discovers a charred notebook that describes some of Kesserich’s experiments. As weird events continue, Kramer becomes increasingly determined to figure out what’s going on.
Kramer narrates the story and presents it as the result of an objective investigation. He narrates events, recounts conversations, and includes text from documents. In the introduction he promises to explain a “puzzling group of events that touched obscurely, but with shivering danger, upon the teetering black foundations of our threatened universe.” Leiber, in other words, ratchets up readers’ expectations right from the beginning. If he doesn’t quite fulfill them, he at least spins an engaging yarn based on nature behaving unnaturally. Today’s science fiction enthusiasts might find the book’s ideas a bit unsophisticated -- though Leiber fans probably won’t care. To those unfamiliar with the genre, however, the novel could provide an intriguing introduction that’s brief and accessible.
DRINK WITH THE DEAD
Drink with the Dead by J. M. Flynn. Ace Books (1959), 136 pp.
Treasury agent Kon Jensen, operating undercover to expose a bootlegging operation, is being worked over in the Seacliff (think Santa Cruz) jail. He’s accused of killing McCullough Shannon, co-owner of a local security firm, even though the body of the purported victim has yet to be found. Someone has turned up dead, however. He’s Johnny Levangie, Jensen’s predecessor in the investigation, who was shot by Shannon during an alleged burglary. But the killing might have had another motive, since Levangie had begun dating Shannon’s sometime girlfriend, newspaper reporter Rhody Cranston. Jensen thinks back to the beginning of the case and all the events that have happened since.
Flynn is trying for something just a bit out of the ordinary. He starts with an action scene, then uses a long flashback to lay out the case. He presents all the mysteries right at the beginning: Where’s the illegal still and who’s running it? What’s the real story behind Levangie’s death? And what has happened to Shannon? In addition, while Flynn’s protagonist acts like a loner detective most of the time, he uncomplainingly relies on his fellow feds (including the Air Force) when necessary. To these unusual structural elements the author adds a lively style that keeps the story moving swiftly. True, the novel probably has too many characters to allow any of them to be adequately developed. And the solution to one of the mysteries, while appropriately tricky, would never convince a jury of the culprit’s guilt. All in all, however, fans of genre are likely to enjoy the book.
PLAYBACK
Playback by Raymond Chandler. Houghton Mifflin (1958), 205 pp.
Someone back east wants to keep tabs on a classy redhead who’s about to arrive in L. A. Philip Marlowe is reluctant to take the job without further information, but neither the local lawyer who hires him nor the lawyer’s flashy platinum blonde secretary has more to tell. Marlowe easily spots the woman, who uses the name Betty Mayfield, at Union Station and watches while she meets a guy she seems to find repulsive. He turns out to be Larry Mitchell, a small-time con-man. Intrigued, Marlowe follows the woman to the San Diego suburb of Esmeralda (think La Jolla), where he winds up in the motel room next to hers.
Playback was Chandler’s last novel. Much of it is like his earlier books: the acerbic first-person narrator, the bantering dialog, the dame with a secret. But somehow the sparkle has disappeared. The story moves very slowly. Events don’t generate much tension. Marlowe is not so much detached as tired out. His encounters with beautiful young women seem beyond his energy level. Even the plotting is a bit sloppy, with a police captain dragged in at the end to clean things up. None of this should come as a complete surprise. Chandler was seventy when the novel was published, not in good health and only a year from death. Despite its shortcomings, the book (especially the unexpected final chapter) might still appeal to Chandler’s many fans. Those seeking an introduction to his work, however, should probably try The Big Sleep (1939) or Farewell, My Lovely (1940).
FIREBRAND
Firebrand by Tom Gill. Farrar and Rinehart (1939), 309 pp.
Tough and steadfast Dana Avery runs a small sawmill near the Mendocino coast. The co-owner, his artistic and unreliable younger brother, Vic, has little interest in the place. Of more help is ten-year-old orphan Maisie Magee, who lives with the two men. Dana is startled to learn that his erstwhile girlfriend, Beth Costaine, has returned home to marry vicious and crooked Ollie Leighton, who controls, but does not quite own, the area’s largest sawmill. Dana’s immediate problem, however, is a raging forest fire that threatens his own livelihood and that of each of the small-scale loggers in the vicinity.
Tom Gill (1891-1972) wrote a dozen outdoor adventure novels in the 1930s and 1940s. His lifelong passion, however, was forestry, a field in which he worked for forty years and gained an international reputation. It’s thus no surprise that the main theme of this book concerns forest management. Ollie Leighton wants to chop down all the redwoods he can find, grab short-term profits, and move on to something else. Dana Avery, on the other hand, organizes fellow loggers around the goals of cooperative action, sustained yields, moderate income and life-long work for many small-scale producers. Gill weakens the impact of his message with cardboard characters and a dopey romantic subplot. His action sequences, however, are vivid. Young readers with unformed literary tastes might well enjoy the book today.
< F02 Title >Firebrand
< F03 Original Pub Year >1939
< F04 Original Publisher >Farrar and Rinehart
< F05 Original Pub Place >New York
< F06 Original Pub Pages >309
< F07 My Edition >Paperback reprint
< F08 My Edition Pub Year >1946
< F09 My Edition Publisher >Popular Library
< F10 Synopsis >Tough and steadfast Dana Avery runs a small sawmill near the Mendocino coast. The co-owner, his artistic and unreliable younger brother, Vic, has little interest in the place. Of more help is ten-year-old orphan Maisie Magee, who lives with the two men. Dana is startled to learn that his erstwhile girlfriend, Beth Costaine, has returned to marry vicious and crooked Ollie Leighton, who controls, but does not quite own, the area’s largest sawmill. Dana’s immediate problem, however, is a raging forest fire that threatens his own livelihood and that of each of the small-scale loggers in the vicinity.
< F11 Comments >Tom Gill (1891-1972) wrote a dozen outdoor adventure novels in the 1930s and 1940s. His lifelong passion, however, was forestry, a field in which he worked for forty years and gained an international reputation. It’s thus no surprise that the main theme of this book concerns forest management. Ollie Leighton wants to chop down all the redwoods he can find, grab short-term profits, and move on to something else. Dana Avery, on the other hand, organizes fellow loggers around the goals of cooperative action, sustained yields, moderate income and life-long work for many small-scale producers. Gill weakens the impact of his message with cardboard characters and a dopey romantic subplot. His action sequences, however, are vivid. Young readers with unformed literary tastes might well enjoy the book today.
< F12 Availability >2/9/11: BF 28, WorldCat 31/7
< F13 Canon Score >0
< F14 Movie Version >None
< F15 Author’s Gender >Male
< F16 Notes >Popular 119; “Western”; protagonist reforms lumber town in 1930s, B&G ; +, +, unusually involving Western-style story, BRD;; more info:
http://fhsarchives.wordpress.com/2009/02/06/tom-gill-lived-what-he-wrote/;
< F17 Status >R
