Today in pulp... I look back at that perennial Xmas stocking filler and all-round cheap and easy present from your Auntie the #Christmas Annual!
They're in the shops now...
If you're not from the UK you might be slightly baffled by the term 'Christmas Annual.' Basically it's a hardback A4 sized book themed around a comic, tv show or movie. It's full of stories, comic strips and various filler items for kids to read.
Christmas annuals have been around since the Victorian age, but it was in the 1920s that children's comic publishers began to monopolize the market. After all, they had a loyal readership, so sales were probably guarantee.
Over time the number of Christmas annuals began to rapidly increase, as more and more comics began to issue them to cash in on the Xmas market...
Even Britain's newspapers jumped on the Xmas bandwagon with their own annuals full of festive fun - though 'fun' might be pushing it a bit: long articles on 'how a newspaper is made' etc...
Up until the 1950s the children's Christmas annual was a somewhat middle class present: full colour printing was expensive, and not every child would be thrilled to receive a book from Santa instead of a cap gun or a tin of toffees.
But by the 1960s the market for Christmas annuals went through the roof, all thanks to one thing - television!
TV shows began to enter the Christmas annual market in a big way in the 1960s: whether they were shows aimed at children...
...or not! Basically if it was on the telly then there would be an annual at Christmas about it.
But were they any good?
Well by the 1970s the format of the Christmas tv show annual was pretty much standardised. First, you got an exciting cover, with either some slightly wonky artwort or some ropey stock photography...
There would be lots of big photos to pad out the page count (you could doodle on these when you were bored on Boxing Day)...
There would be some very dull stories featuring some truly terrible artwork, normally by an illustrator who hadn't seen the show...
There would be a fact file...
A board game...
Some rubbish puzzles...
A jokes page...
An extremely badly drawn comic strip...
Another bloody board game...
Another fact file, another quiz, more photos, a colouring page ... on and on until they'd filled 100 pages as cheaply as they could.
That was the problem with TV annuals: they were licenced by companies that had nothing to do with the show and didn't seem to care!
For example: the Doctor Who Christmas annual artwork has long been a source of puzzlement to children. "Who's that weirdo on the cover?" kids would cry every 25th December. "Has he regenerated into the Child Catcher?" They'd then proceed to draw a nob on all the Daleks.
By a country mile the biggest annual publisher of all was Fleetway! You name it, they'd stick together a 100 page hardback on it and sell it for £2.99 at all good newsagents.
So if you wanted a good Christmas annual you were better off sticking to one based on a comic: the art would be decent and the stories would be interesting.
Despite a dip in the 1990s I'm pleased to say the Christmas annual market is still alive and well. Whether modern annuals are as collectable as those of yesteryear only time will tell!
More pulp stories another time...
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It was the biggest manhunt in Britain: police, the press, aeroplanes, psychics all tried to solve the disappearance. In the end nobody really knew what happened. It was a mystery without a solution.
This is the story of Agatha Christie's 11 lost days...
By 1926 Agatha Christie's reputation as a writer was starting to grow. Her sixth novel - The Murder of Roger Ackroyd - had been well-received and she and her husband Archie had recently concluded a world tour. But all was not well with the marriage.
In April 1926 Agatha Christie’s mother died. Christie was very close to her: she had been home-schooled and believed her mother was clairvoyant. The shock of her sudden death hit the author hard.
Many readers have asked me over the years what my definition of pulp is. I've thought about it a lot, and the definition 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.
let's take a look at the extraordinary work of Victorian illustrator and cat lover Louis Wain!
Louis Wain was born in London in 1860. Although he is best known for his drawings of cats he started out as a Victorian press illustrator. His work is highly collectable.
Wain had a very difficult life; born with a cleft lip he was not allowed to attend school. His freelance drawing work supported his mother and sisters after his father died. Aged 23 he married his sisters' governess, Emily Richardson, 10 years his senior.
Over the years a number of people have asked me if I have a favourite pulp film. Well I do. It's this one.
This is the story of Alphaville...
Alphaville: une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution (1965) was Jean-Luc Godard’s ninth feature film. A heady mix of spy noir, science fiction and the Nouvelle Vague at its heart is a poetic conflict between a hard-boiled secret agent and a supercomputer’s brave new world.
British writer Peter Cheyney had created the fictitious American investigator Lemmy Caution in 1936. As well as appearing in 10 novels Caution featured in over a dozen post-war French films, mostly played by singer Eddie Constantine whom Godard was keen to work with.
Al Hartley may have been famous for his work on Archie Comics, but in the 1970s he was drawn to a very different scene: God.
Today in pulp I look back at Hartley's work for Spire Christian Comics - a publisher that set out to spread the groovy gospel...
Spire Christian Comics was an offshoot of Spire Books, a mass-market religious paperback line launched in 1963 by the Fleming H. Revell company. The point of Spire Books was to get religious novels into secular stores, so a move into comic books in 1972 seemed a logical choice.
The idea was to create comic book versions of popular Spire Books like The Cross and the Switchblade; David Wilkinson's autobiographical tale of being a pastor in 1960s New York. It had already been turned into a film, but who could make it into a comic?