Tag: short stories

The Pulps: ‘Tough Enough’

The collection of Western stories ends with a tale by Luke Short, who was as popular as Max Brand and whose work inspired multiple movies. “Tough Enough” was published in Argosy, the mother of pulps, in 1937.

This story follows the familiar premise of the stranger who rides into a town run by a criminal gang and leaves a trail of bodies behind him. Fisful of Dollars has of course become the archetype of that story but didn’t originate it, and the Short’s story differs enough from the now-established cliches to hold a few surprises. There are some secret identities and a double cross, and the tale is both well-told and generally engaging.

The Pulps: ‘The Ghost’

After an all-too-brief sampling of sports and war stories, The Pulps delivers a larger collection of of westerns. As is proper, it opens with a big name, Max Brand, whom editor Tony Goodstone credits for the western genre’s transition from more realistic to more fantastic, larger-than-life stories. Brand (real name Frederick Faust) is one of those curious writers who disdain their own careers, wanting recognition for “serious” literary work but instead finding success in popular fiction. Brand wanted to be a poet but was instead a successful, prolific, and popular author of cowboy adventures.

“The Ghost” is an early example of Brand’s work, published in 1919 in All-Story Weekly and again in Adventure in 1929. According to Goodstone, Brand was a great lover of classical mythology and based the story’s titular antihero on the god Pan, though I admit I would not have guessed that without Goodstone’s guidance. The “Ghost” is a brilliant thief plaguing a gold-rush town. Although he never kills his victims, he robs them blind and then disappears into a box canyon. The townsmen hire Silver Pete, a gunslinger with a shady past, to track the Ghost to his lair.

Playfulness and trickery follows, with the Ghost finding devious means to get the upper hand. Most remarkable about his character, and causing the reader to root for him despite his thievery, is his insistence on never taking a life. This is particularly notable because the story takes place in a setting where authors usually depict life as cheap. Though the story’s resolution is enjoyable, it is marred by its requirement that one of the major characters carry the idiot ball.

The story certainly illustrates Goodstone’s claim that Brand heralded a transition from realistic to mythical western adventures. The setting is nowhere in particular, and the characters and events have a markedly unreal quality to them. Brand had not yet personally visited the West when he wrote this story, and he does not appear even slightly interested in verisimilitude or realistic details.

The Pulps: ‘The Flaming Arrow’

Although this anthology does feature one additional example from a sports pulp, that example is a recount of a real event rather than a work of fiction, so we will pass over it and move to the next section, which is dedicated to World War I military aviation. The military section contains only one short story, George Bruce’s “Flaming Arrow,” originally published in The Lone Eagle in 1934.

Our editor and guide, Tony Goodstone, points out that writers of this type of fiction were concerned primarily with the specifics of the aircraft they wrote about. Bruce’s story is an example of this: It very much cares about the Nieuport the protagonist flies and the Fokkers and Pfalzes he dogfights with. This is a great example of action fiction: Bruce balances out the technical specifics with exciting depictions of aerial gun battles.

He is, however, less concerned with military strategy, so even a lay reader will discover several implausibilities in this story. The plot revolves around Ace Avery, a skilled pilot, who receives a suicide mission—he is to fly solo into enemy airspace and bomb a factory where the Germans are developing a new, super form of mustard gas capable of wiping out a small country in one drop.

Questions abound: Why would destroying one manufacturing plant assure that the Germans couldn’t produce this deadly material somewhere else? Why don’t the Germans make some kind of arrangements to protect their formula after they become aware of Avery’s mission (which they do)?

More especially, why does Avery have to fly solo? Supposedly, this gives him better odds, but he fails the mission on his first run … so he simply tries again the next day. The Germans already know he’s coming, so he has no stealth advantage. Why not bring more guns? Why not, as was common in World War II, send additional fighters to protect the bomber?

We don’t get answers to these questions, but they aren’t important. What makes the story work is its combination of genuinely exciting action with the protagonist’s inner struggle. Despite his reputation as the best flying ace in the skies, Avery is a man unsure of himself, someone doing his duty but not particularly brave or at all cocksure, who merely found that he has an especial talent for handling an aeroplane. There is nothing original about his character, but he is likable, and since he is the only character that the story presents to us, “The Flaming Arrow” has a chance for greater psychological depth, such as it is, than most of the other pulps in this collection. It is a convincing portrait of a man at war even if that man’s particular mission sounds unlikely.

The Pulps: ‘The Yellow Twin’

We’ve finished up the selection of adventure stories and are now into sports stories. Although this isn’t a brand of fiction in which I’m particularly interested, Tony Goodstone comes close to changing my mind by selecting some real standouts. The first, “The Yellow Twin” by Paul W. Gallico, originally published in 1928 in Fight Stories, is one of the best in this collection. Although its twist ending is predictable, it is a remarkably good story of heroism amidst overwhelming odds.

The story introduces us to Barney and Michael Cassidy, twin brothers who grew up in extreme poverty. Despite their thin, underfed frames, they discover they can hit, and they begin to make money for their destitute mother through boxing. Barney loves the ring and fights with abandon, but Michael is a more reluctant and cautious fighter.

Gallico tells his story like a historian recounting real events. Both for verisimilitude and to keep the pace steady, he intersperses his narrative with imaginary newspaper clippings, which also aid the story’s central conceit: Because of his cautious style and apparent inability to recover from a punch, the newsmen label Michael “yellow,” and this label haunts him through his brief career while his brother, lauded as a heroic pugilist, rises through the ranks—until tragedy strikes.

Like most of the stories in here, this one exemplifies the kind of solid, workmanlike story construction that once upon a time could make a man a living though never gaining him accolades among the literati (although some authors in this collection went on to win Pulitzers when they wrote outside the pulps). It is a reminder that pulp magazines often presented stories of strikingly good quality, not at all the dreck we’re led to believe they were filled with.

If “The Yellow Twin” has a downside, it is that it follows a shopworn formula. I will avoid giving away the details of its second half, but it does involve some dirty dealing in fixed fights, a high-stakes battle against a notorious champion, and a big reveal that the attentive reader will see coming from a mile away. But it is entertaining and satisfying anyway because of the skill with which Gallico handles these familiar elements. As Goodstone says in his brief commentary, its “treatment of courage, honor, and achievement make it a story which could as easily have been set in other surroundings—the West or a war-torn battlefield.”

The Pulps: ‘Manchu Terror’

This story by William P. McGivern, published in 1946 in Mammoth Adventure, inspired a magazine cover which in turn provided the cover art for this anthology. This is yet another adventure story that, like the vast majority of pulps, is competently constructed yet forgettable. Nonetheless, it appears in this collection as an example of a type, and it serves that purpose well.

The story involves some espionage and intrigue: The narrator, a regular at a bar in Shanghai, receives a parcel from the bar’s owner shortly before that owner is murdered. He soon after encounters an alluringly exotic beauty before he and she are both targeted by spies who are willing to kill them for the package our narrator carries. A humorous character introduced at the story’s beginning becomes key to the climax and resolution.

The construction is generally competent and, again, workmanlike, even if the tale offers nothing particularly original. The exotic setting adds flavor but has no particular bearing on the plot—simply change the names and the specific political situation, and this same story could be played out anywhere. It is in this anthology largely because it represents an example of adventure stories set in the far east.

Our editor warned at the beginning that the stories here were chosen to be representative rather than for quality. Although nothing in the collection is truly bad, this is another story that is not a standout.

The Pulps: ‘The Greek Poropulos’

Continuing where we left off with the stories in The Pulps, we move onto the the second story, “The Greek Poropulos” by Edgar Wallace. This is most notable for being an early story by a man who became a prolific and best-selling mystery writer. He is also in the book as an Example of an English writer whose work was edited and published in America without the author’s consent or possibly knowledge, a common practice in many of the early pulps according to Tony Goodstone.

“The Greek Poropulos” was originally published in 1910 but was reprinted in Green Book in 1933. The narrator is an Englishman who, with his wife Lillian, moves to South Africa for his health. Ridiculously naïve, he falls in with a huckster who first cheats him out of all of his money and then seduces his wife. Meanwhile, the titular Poropulos sympathizes with the narrator and attempts to help him, but the narrator is too thick-witted to recognize the charity. But as the story progresses and avoidable tragedy befalls him, our narrator ultimately wises up. In the end, everyone involved pays for his stupidity, duplicity, or other vice.

Diverting and well-written, this story is not especially memorable, but it has a few points that make it worth a read. First is its depiction of South Africa at the beginning of the twentieth century, and the second is the darkly comical stupidity of the first-person protagonist, who ultimately becomes wiser but sadder. Third, of course, is the famous author.

But the story, while good overall, does not quite work as well as it should. There’s a touch of mystery toward the end, but the twist is unsurprising and also largely irrelevant to the way the overall plot plays out. As a result, the final line, meant to be a sledgehammer blow, lacks its intended force.

The Pulps: ‘The Resurrection of Jimber-Jaw’

The other day, I came across the anthology The Pulps. Edited by Tony Goodstone and published in 1970, it is a nostalgic look back at the heyday of pulp magazines in the 1910s through the 1950s. I thought it might be worthwhile to discuss each of the stories it contains, one at a time.

The Pulps is an oversized hardback designed to have dimensions roughly similar to a pulp magazine. In addition to a collection of stories (chosen to be representative rather than for quality, Goodstone tells us), it contains a smattering of vintage ads and excerpts from letters to the editor and other back matter. The presentation of the stories preverves illustrations and mimics original layouts, though the font has obviously been standardized and modernized. The book also contains a collection of full-color magazine covers.

The Pulps features a decent explanatory apparatus. An introductory essay traces the history of pulp fiction, arguing that it has its origins in the moralizing chapbooks of the 1840s. The book is then divided into sections dedicated to adventure, sports, war, westerns, detectives, and so forth. The book offers one great disappointment: Toward its end is an essay about The Shadow and Doc Savage, but it contains stories of neither.

I’ll take these stories one at a time, in the order presented.

Continue reading “The Pulps: ‘The Resurrection of Jimber-Jaw’”

Jake and the Dynamo’s Epic Halloween Blowout Extravaganza, Part 3 (of 3)

Pumpkin, Spice, and Everything Nice! The magical girl Halloween showdown comes to its thrilling conclusion!

Featured image: “#PunkinDidNothingWrong” by Roffles Lowell

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Margherita stood by, biting her nails. Tears ran down her cheeks as she stared at all her boxes of ruined pizza. Her eyes flicked back between Jake and Magical Girl Punkin Spice.

“Please,” she pleaded. “Please, no more. Please don’t ruin any more food—”

In spite of the chilly night air, Jake felt sweat forming under his collar. He took another pull on his coffee, but then raised his hands and slowly backed away from Punkin. Her wand still pointed at his chest.

“Wait, hold on,” he said. “You don’t want me to get a taste for pumpkin spice—”

“Oh yes I do,” Punkin whispered. “I want everyone to know the joys of pumpkin spice!”

Jake chuckled nervously. “Look, I don’t know exactly how this kind of thing works, but I’m pretty sure pumpkin spice isn’t my thing. I mean, I’m a guy. I bet I’d have to have a lot more estrogen in my system before I could enjoy something like pumpkin spice—”

“I can take care of that,” Punkin hissed. Her wand trembled in her grasp. Continue reading “Jake and the Dynamo’s Epic Halloween Blowout Extravaganza, Part 3 (of 3)”

Jake and the Dynamo’s Epic Halloween Blowout Extravaganza, Part 1 (of 3)

For the magical girls, it’s the most important night of the year, a night to renew their contracts with their familiars. But will a mysterious newcomer ruin their joyous celebrations?

Featured image”Magical Girl Punkin Spice” by Roffles Lowell.

FIRST | NEXT | LAST

This night was unlike any other. A tension, a frisson of excitement hung in the air like that melancholy tingle of expectation before a thunderstorm. The entire city of Urbanopolis, that last refuge of beleaguered humanity, glowed with multicolored lights and resounded with music and chatter. On every stoop grinned a fiery Jack-o’-Lantern eerily flickering with candlelight. Children laughed and ran pell-mell down sidewalks, their boots or sandals slapping against the concrete. Or they gathered in timid clusters, clinging to the hands of longsuffering parents. They wore garish costumes, like fairy creatures arisen from some dark corner of a half-forgotten world: Here was a ghost, there a goblin, there a ballerina in pink lace. Hastily made outfits of cardboard and brown paper crackled and crinkled as their wearers clumsily walked. A few children shivered with cold. Others had, at the behest of nervous mothers, forced themselves into parkas before climbing into their costumes, so they were plump and round as pumpkins under their elaborate dress. The clear sky was black, a hint of frost clung to the air, and the last remaining leaves hung brown and blood red on the trees.

This was Halloween, the night of nights.

Continue reading “Jake and the Dynamo’s Epic Halloween Blowout Extravaganza, Part 1 (of 3)”

Pizza Margherita! Part 3 of 3

When health food goes bad, pizza gets mad!

Pizza Margherita!
A Tale from Urbanopolis

Part 3 of 3

READ PART 1 | READ PART 2

Pizza Margherita flew over a desolate, broken landscape. The moon and the twinkling stars offered only a little light. The distant horizon glowed a faint red, but that wasn’t an approaching dawn: it was the glow of lava from the volcanos that had sprung up across the globe during the upheavals of the First Invasion, the onslaught that wiped out most of humanity.

Margherita never veered from her course. The Pie in Sky was swift and silent. The land below was nothing but a dark blur, so Margherita and Pepper were spared the sight of broad plains of glassy sand fused by alien weaponry, of vast seas of rubble that were formerly human cities, and of the bleached bones of the countless dead. Urbanopolis was the Earth’s one remaining habitation. All the rest of the planet was now the tomb of a once-great species.

“I’ll show you, Tosser,” Margherita whispered. “I’ll show you what happens when Pizza goes bad.” Continue reading “Pizza Margherita! Part 3 of 3”