Pulp Fiction Surprise

Just over 20 years ago now a teacher walked into my office and said that he had just found a bag of books on the street and would I like them.  Of course I said Yes and in the books came.

Quick look at the top of the bag – looked like a whole load of pornesque pulp fiction from the late 1950’s and early 1960’s. Could be interesting period curiosities.

So the bag sat unexplored in the back corner of the office until I  changed jobs and so – after several moves – the bag and the books ended up in the basement, still unexplored. Now – in the uncluttering phase –  time to take a look. 

So there they are – still in their vintage King Kullen “you can have it all” supermarket bag. And finally they get pulled out – a little fragile now, the pages brown and some of them ready to crumble. But the covers are still nice and lurid.

So one after the other I pull them out – each one a little less appealing than the one before.

And then – what’s this masquerading as drug store porn? The Thorn in the Flesh. Promising title for a punter in search of steamy reading.

It’s a collection of seven short stories by D.H.Lawrence published by the Berkeley Medallion in 1959. Purchase price 35 cents.

It’s a bit of a collector’s item apparently – a good copy now will cost you $25.

But gosh – it’s by the author of the infamous Lady Chatterley’s Lover – the Berkley Medallion press taking advantage of that notoriety with a blurb that is a cross between the sensational and high literary endorsement. 

The title story is about a Prussian soldier with a fear of heights who loses bladder control after being forced to climb a wall.

He strikes out at a sergeant who humiliates him and runs away. It does have a sexual encounter in it – but not 1959 pulp fiction worthy.

The blurb writers do their best to amp up the heat. “Flashing glimpses into the byways of love” says the back cover with blurbs from Anthony West, F.R.Leavis and T.S.Eliot. 

One of the stories was even a set text for my GCE ‘O’ levels and amusing to think of someone poring over the emotionally painful pits and pubs of Odour of Chrysanthemums to get to the steamy bits. 

Of course, Lawrence detractors would say he belongs there amid the crumbling ickiness and the extremely boring of mid 20th century pulp fiction. 

The issue now is not Lawrence’s literary reputation but what to do with 50 or so examples of mid 20th century pulp fiction.

Anyone have any suggestions?