Today in pulp... a rather elusive artist, the brilliant Gene Szafran! #SaturdayVibes
Gene Szafran was born in Michigan in 1941 and studied at The Society of Arts and Crafts in Detroit. He later became an art teacher there.
Szafran moved to New York City in 1967, where his work featured in Playboy and Cosmopolitan. He also worked on a number of album covers, winning the 1969 Grammy for his Rhinoceros album cover.
This led him into the world of book cover design, particularly science fiction where his stylized kaleidoscopic images brought him to the attention of Signet Publications.
Gene Szafran produced an incredible set of covers for Signet's range of Robert A Heinlein novels between 1971 and 1974. As a collection they're stunning and unique.
It certainly wasn't what you might expect a Heinlein book to look like: bold colours and exquisite geometry, often coming together around a central human form.
The Heinlein covers led to a number of contracts for other work. Szafran's amazing use of colour and symmetry seemed a perfect match for the early 1970s scene.
Although Szafran did more traditional cover art - notably for Daphne Du Maurier titles - it's his science fiction work that really stands out as unique. It set an esoteric, somewhat erotic note. Whether the books themselves warranted it is a moot point.
In 1972 Szafran won the Locus Award for best paperback cover artist; his career in the industry seemed assured...
And then... tragically he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, which severely affected his ability to paint and draw. His last covers were completed in 1977 before he returned to Detroit with his family.
Gene Szafran's work is a time capsule of 1970s psychedelic Americana: complex, dazzling and rich. He was an exceptionally gifted artist with a keen sense of colour and composition.
Sadly Gene Szafran passed away in 2011, but his legacy is a fantastic collection of artwork that's well worth collecting. Keep an eye out when you next visit your local book market.
More artists another time...
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Given the current heatwave, I feel obliged to ask my favourite question: is it time to bring back the leisure suit?
Let's find out...
Now we all know what a man's lounge suit is, but if we're honest it can be a bit... stuffy. Formal. Businesslike. Not what you'd wear 'in da club' as the young folks say.
So for many years tailors have been experimenting with less formal, but still upmarket gents attire. The sort of garb you could wear for both a high level business meeting AND for listening to the Moody Blues in an espresso bar. Something versatile.
Today in pulp I look back at the publishing phenomenon of gamebooks: novels in which YOU are the hero!
A pencil and dice may be required for this thread...
Gamebooks are a simple but addictive concept: you control the narrative. At the end of each section of the story you are offered a choice of outcomes, and based on that you turn to the page indicated to see what happens next.
Gamebook plots are in fact complicated decision tree maps: one or more branches end in success, but many more end in failure! It's down to you to decide which path to tread.
He was the terror of London; a demonic figure with glowing eyes and fiery breath who could leap ten feet high. The penny dreadfuls of the time wrote up his exploits in lurid terms. But who was he really?
Today I look at one of the earliest pulp legends: Spring-Heeled Jack!
London has always attracted ghosts, and in the 19th Century they increasingly left their haunted houses and graveyards and began to wader the capital's streets.
But one apparition caught the Victorian public attention more than most...
In October 1837 a 'leaping character' with a look of the Devil began to prey on Londoners. Often he would leap high into the air and land in front of a carriage, causing it to crash. It would then flee with a high-pitched laugh.