Many readers have asked me over the years what my definition of pulp is.
I've thought about it a lot, and the one I keep coming back to... well it may surprise you.
Let me try and set it out...
There are lots of definitions of pulp out there: in books, in academic papers and on the web. And most circle back to the same three points: the medium, the story type and the method of writing.
Pulp is of course a type of cheap, coarse paper stock. Its use in magazine production from the 1890s onwards led to it becoming a shorthand term for the kind of fiction found in low cost story magazines.
Genre fiction was the staple of these magazines, either short stories or novella serialisations. And much of it was new writing: the range and popularity of story magazines created a huge demand for new stories from new writers - or seasoned pros with a lot of pen names!
Writers were expected to work quickly, often to a genre template, and were paid by the word. To maximise sales stories were expected to be vivid, impactful, easy to follow and full of exciting incidents. Show, Don't Tell was the watchword.
So we have our typical working definition of pulp: fast-paced mass market genre fiction written at speed. Throw in some lurid cover art and job's a good 'un.
Except... that's not quite what happened.
The 19th certainly saw an explosion in print publication: new paper stocks, new printing press designs, faster typesetting, improved distribution channels through rail and post, all combined with increasing literacy rates to create a reading revolution in industrial societies.
As a result story magazines - the Dime Novels and Penny Dreadfuls - began to appear en masse. Genre fiction began popular: the Western, the detective novel, science fiction, adventure stories and romantic tales of love. All the elements of pulp were there by 1890.
Except one...
Marketing as a discipline of applied economics emerged at the start of the 20th Century. Distinct from sales or advertising the new discipline tried to understand what other factors - apart from price, scarcity or distribution - drove economic activity.
Eventually a number of marketing insights began to emerge:
- market research: what does the audience like, or may like in future?
- market segmentation: how do you identify and capture different sub-markets?
- relationship management: how do you keep and grow an audience?
And it's fascinating to see how the development of pulp magazines matches the development of marketing methodology. Time and again the pulps sem to be the early adopters - and early beneficiaries - of marketing insights.
Take audience segmentation. Black Mask magazine began as a general story magazine, running detective, western, adventure and mystery tales. Like many early pulps it tried to cast a wide net to reach as many audiences as possible.
That all changed when editor Philip Cody took over in 1924. He deliberately built a strong relationship with his readers, asking them for ideas and feedback to help him shape the magazine to better match their tastes.
Cody also recruitrd specific writers - Raymond Chandler, Erle Stanley Gardner, Carroll John Daly - who could nail the kind of story his readers said they wanted: gritty, hard-hitting and pacey. Black Mask became hard boiled.
And with efficient distribution channels and a solid subscription list it also became hugely profitable and popular. Cody wasn't casting his net wide for readers, he was ruthlessly targeting and satisfying a small but profitable audience segment.
Over at Amazing Stories magazine Hugo Gernsback was doing the same thing. Though he might be reusing older classic stories his focus was on relentlessly identifying and satisfying a particular kind of reader: the science fiction fan.
Read any half-decent pre-war pulp and what strikes you is the strength of its editorial voice. The magazine is actively trying to connect with the reader, to build a relationship and to develop loyalty.
And if you have low costs, strong customer insight and high customer loyalty then you have a commercial success. That's not always common in the world of publishing, especially if you don't have a big advertising budget.
In contrast the book publishers of the time were more focussed on publicity and advertising: "One million copies in print!", "Valued by all who esterm thrills!" "Hank Janson says BUY THIS BOOK!" It was a different, more traditional sales model.
So that tends to be my personal working definition of pulp: the agressive application of modern marketing techniques to the publication of literature.
And the nice thing about that definition is that it also covers the huge change in pulp publishing after WW2.
The rise of the post-war pulp novel is a complicated thing. They're very different to pulp story magazines. For a start you only get one story, and it tends to be a long one.
But the move was in tune with a changing market. During WWII the US Council of Books in Wartime had given away over 122 million books to American servicemen to read. Other allied nations had similar schemes. This opened up a whole new market segment, the ex-army reader.
With the end of paper rationing and relaxation of import controls in the early '50s, the advances made in offset printing and glue-based book binding, and the market-building activities of Penguin Books and Pocket Books in the previous decade, a viable new market was emerging...
...the pulp paperback! Dozens of new publishers sprang up focusing on genre fiction tightly dialled into the audience's wants and needs. If one type of story sold well a dozen copycats would soon appear with the same kind of cover art, targeting the audience at the point of sale.
Word of mouth rather than advertising was the key. From the moment you picked the book up you should know if it was your kind of story. And if you liked it there were several more where that came from. Consistent entertainment at a low price: books that hit all the right buttons.
The best example of this is possibly the gothic romance. Hugely popular, hugely profitable and very varied, but crucially very identifiable. You know immediately from the cover art that this is one of 'those' books.
Nowadays we tend to get our pulp stories more from the TV and the streaming services. And they've borrowed the marketing-led approaches pioneered by the pulps. Often you know what the show will be like before you even watch the first episode.
As for published pulp? Well that's still going strong thanks to indie writers and ebooks. And just like the Roaring '20s they're using marketing to find, keep, understand and entertain a thousand different niche audiences.
Feel free to disagree, and don't think I'm ignoring the idea of pulp as a writing style or a story approach. But there is something to be said for seeing pulp as the profitable apex of marketing techniques and entertaining writing.
More tales another time...
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In the 1970s a fascinating engineering battle took place between America and Japan for control of the future. The prize was the world we live in now. And one of the key battles took place on your wrist.
This is the story of the digital watch...
'Digital' is a magical marketing word. Like 'laser' or 'turbo' it suggests progress, mastery and the future. People like those ideas. They like them enough to spend a lot of money on products that have them, especially if they can be a first adopter.
And so it was with the wristwatch. Electronic quartz watches were already a thing by the 1960s: an analogue movement driven by a quartz crystal resonator, powered by a small button battery.
But one American company was setting out on a new timekeeping odyssey...
Today in pulp... let's look back at a Shōjo manga artist whose work celebrated friendships between women: Jun'ichi Nakahara.
Jun'ichi Nakahara was born in Higashikagawa in 1913 and worked as an illustrator, a fashion designer and a doll maker. His work is highly regarded in Japan and he was a significant influence on modern manga art.
In the '20s and '30s Nakahara often drew for Shōjo no Tomo ("Girl's Friend") magazine. The style at the time was for demure, dreamlike imagery, but Nakahara added to this large expressive eyes, often reflecting the light.
Today in pulp I try to decipher 1980s Japanese street style, with the help of Olive: The Magazine for Romantic Girls!
This may involve frills...
Street style is an ever-changing mix of styles, brands, attitudes and poses with various influences. And you normally have to be in the right place at the right time to capture it.
Which is where magazines come in! Photograping, documenting and deconstructing fashion never goes out of style, and in the late 1970s Japanese youth had one key guide to help them: Popeye!
In February 1974 something profound and inexplicable happened to author Philip K Dick that changed his life forever. Was it an illness, a psychotic reaction, or something truly mystical?
Today in pulp I look back at the exegesis of Philip K Dick...
Philip K Dick was both prolific and influential. In his youth he came to the conclusion that, in a certain sense, the world is not entirely real and there is no way to confirm whether it is truly there.
By the end of the 1960s Philip K Dick had published over 40 novels and stories, as well as winning the 1963 Hugo Award for The Man In The High Castle. But he still struggled financially.
What with you being so busy and everythign you may not have visited your local library in a while.
So come with me on a virtual library tour, courtesy of stock photography, to see what we do for a living...
The enquiries desk is normally your first stop in a library, and this is where you will meet The Angry Librarian!
Why is she angry? Because people keep asking her stupid questions!
"Are you open?"
"Do you have a toilet?"
"That chair's wobbly!"
"Why isn't it available in audiobook?"
"Someone else is on the computer and that's not fair!"
Today in pulp I look at the original white stripes: the world of dazzle camoflague!
Traditional pattern camoflague had been used by the British Royal Navy to break up a ship's outline for some time. But in 1917 artist Norman Wilkinson presented the Admiralty with a different idea - camoflague that confused enemy rangefinders.
Dazzle - known in the US as Razzle Dazzle - would use high contrast colours in irregular patterns to make it difficult for enemy gunners to calculate a ship's range and bearing. This would (hopefully) lead to them taking up a poor firing position when they attacked.