By Peter Haining
A PICTORIAL heritage OF HORROR tales:
Two Hundred Years of Illustrations from the Pulp Magazines
This e-book is largely a page-for-page reprint of Haining's prior booklet entitled "Terror: A historical past of Horror Illustrations from Pulp Magazines." there isn't any new fabric. the one distinction is it's a hardback with diverse conceal paintings. whereas it's rather thorough in visually documenting the evolution of horror representation from the "penny-dreadful" magazines of the Victorian age during the pulps of the '30s and '40s, it has a tremendous shortcoming -- lots of the luridly colourful pulp journal conceal pictures are reproduced in B&W. That makes for a truly monotonous learn. nowadays, more recent books concerning the pulps continuously reproduce the covers in wonderful colour. Why they didn't see healthy to do this within the '70s and and '80s is a secret and a disgrace. a person must revisit the topic of horror pulps and do it right.
4to, sleek illus bds with lurid photo of monster attacking a snoozing lady, 176pp. Lavishly illus in color and in B&W. Many artists are represented: Mary Byfield, Henry Anelay, John Gilbert, Sidney Paget, Margaret Brundage, and so on. those illustrations are regularly fascinating.
A dinner party of nightmares in images, rescued from the crumbling pages of lengthy useless periodicals. levels over two hundred years of gory, ghoulish and terrifying from the 1st Gothic engravings of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein to that wealthy and sundry treasure apartment of horror illustrations
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Additional info for A Pictorial History of Horror Stories
She put the Volvo in gear, turned around, and drove across the lot to the Shore Road. She could see Jess standing by his bike yet, the ocean at his back, and for the second time that day she mentally accused him of knowing exactly what kind of picture he was making. This time, instead of being irritated, she felt a little bit sad. She drove on, wondering if the ocean would ever look the way it had looked to her before all of this had happened. Her tongue hurt miserably. She opened her window wider and spat.
The Chevy’s driver’s side door stood sadly open. There was a pair of baby shoes dangling from the rear-view mirror. Hank was standing by the door, rubbing his mouth with a dirty handkerchief. “Jesus, Stu,” he said unhappily, and Stu nodded. Hap hung up the phone. The Chevy’s driver was lying on the floor. “Ambulance will be here in ten minutes. ” He jerked his thumb at the Chevy. ” Vic nodded. His lined face was yellow-pale, and he was sprinkling tobacco all over the floor as he tried to make one of his shitty-smelling cigarettes.
His heart ached to see them wearing hand-me-downs and Salvation Army giveouts like the ones you saw the nigger children in east Arnette wearing; and at the same time a horrible, shaking anger would sweep through him, making him want to stride out there and beat the living shit out of them. “Yes, Daddy,” Luke said in a subdued way. He was nine. “Yes, Daddy,” Bobby echoed. He was seven going on eight. Norm stood for a moment, glaring at them, and slammed the door shut. He stood for a moment, looking indecisively at the pile of clothes he had worn yesterday.
A Pictorial History of Horror Stories by Peter Haining