Today in pulp I look back at one of the most terrifying British comics of the 1970s: scary, supernatural and just for girls: Misty.
IPC comics already had a reputation for tough titles by 1978: Action comic had been denounced in parliament for its violent content. But Pat Mills wanted a vehicle for fearful supernatural stories and persuaded IPC to run with his idea: a mystery comic aimed at girls.
Rival publisher D.C. Thompson had already launched its own supernatural girl's comic Spellbound in 1976, but Misty would be in a league of its own when it hit newsstands in 1978.
Mills had just left IPC's 2000AD comic when he set up Misty, although he would only be a consultant editor on the new title. He took the comic's name from the film Play Misty For Me.
Misty stories focused on the occult, horror and the supernatural. It boasted of "Stories NOT to be read at night!" But Mills had wanted it to be even stronger in its storytelling, and apparently believed the comic pulled its punches a little.
Like many IPC titles Misty had a 'narrator' who introduced each issue - the eponymous Misty, drawn by Shirley Bellwood. Her role was to be a point of entry for the reader to the various supernatural stories.
Misty stories were far from ordinary however: in the Four Faces of Eve the amnesiac heroine discovers she is a re-animated entity made from the corpses of four different girls and her 'parents' are actually scientists monitoring her. Pretty strong stuff for a pre-teen audience.
The Sentinels was a story of two huge tower blocks, which were actually gateways to a parallel Earth where the Nazis had won the war. School of the Lost was a macabre twist on the boarding school story, where parents paid a special 'tribute' for their children's education.
But Misty's lead story was Moonchild, about a girl with telekenetic powers. IPC had a habit of borrowing themes from popular movies, and Moonchild is a story strongly influenced by Stephen King's Carrie.
Misty also included a number of single stories, normally across three or four pages. The panel layout often emphasised the drama: lots of jagged edges and tightly framed images.
There's no doubt that Misty was hugely popular with readers: the first issue sold a quarter of a million copies. It genuinely treated pre-teen girls as a mature and savvy audience that would enjoy gothic tales of terror and the occult.
However IPC was notorious for merging comics, even popular ones, at short notice. Sadly in 1980 Misty was merged with Tammy, and soon the supernatural horror stories faded away...
Misty Christmas annuals continued to be issued by Fleetway Publications up to 1986. These mostly contained old stories as well as quizzes, puzzles and jokes.
Misty stories were genuinely frightening, reusing a number of horror movie concepts from the 1970s. It's doubtful whether parents ever knew exactly what their children were reading, though the readers knew they were enjoying it.
Fortunately Misty stories have now been republished by Rebellion comics, so if your mum threw your old issues out you can finally read 'em again. Do check out the epic Misty fan site as well: mistycomic.co.uk/Welcome.html
Will there ever be another Misty? Who knows. Comics of the 1970s treated children as an intelligent audience, and weren't afraid to push the limits of 'appropriate' storytelling for them. That's why we remember them so fondly.
More stories another time...
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
Today in pulp: a tale of an unintentionally radical publisher. It only produced 42 books between 1968-9, but it caught the hedonistic, solipsistic, free love mood of the West Coast freakout scene like no other.
This is the story of Essex House...
Essex House was an offshoot of Parliament Press, a California publishing company set up by pulp artist Milton Luros after the market for pulp magazines began to decline. It specialised in stag magazines sold through liquor stores, to skirt around US obscenity publishing laws.
By the 1960s Parliament Press was already selling pornographic novels through its Brandon House imprint, though these were mostly reprints or translations of existing work. Luros was interested in publishing new erotic authors, and set up Essex House to do just that.
Today in pulp... one of my favourite SF authors: Harry Harrison!
Harry Harrison was born Stamford, Connecticut, in 1925. He served in the US Army Air Corps during WWII, but became disheartened with military life. In his spare time he learned Esperanto.
Harrison started his sci-fi career as an illustrator, working with Wally Wood on Weird Fantasy and Weird Science up until 1950. He also wrote for syndicated comic strips, including Flash Gordon and Rick Random.
Today in pulp... Blade Runner! Let's look back at the classic 1982 movie and see how it compares to original novel.
"It's not an easy thing to meet your maker..."
Blade Runner is based on Philip K. Dick's 1968 novel Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep? However 'inspired' may be a better word, as the film is very different to the book.
In the novel Deckard is a bounty hunter for the San Francisco police. The year is 1992; Earth has been ravaged by war and humans are moving to off-world colonies to protect their genetic integrity. They are given organic robots to help them, created by the Rosen Association.
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!