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...
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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.
Friendship is universal. So are human-eating alien lizards in sunglasses. At least that's what we thought in 1983, thanks to one blockbuster TV mini-series.
This is the story of V...
Writer Kenneth Johnson had a strong background in TV drama and sci-fi, having worked on The Incredible Hulk and The Six Million Dollar Man. In 1976 he created The Bionic Woman series.
But his next project would be more political...
Johnson was interested in Sinclair Lewis's 1935 novel It Can't Happen Here, a story about how fascism might take hold in America. He worked up a modern retelling of the story - called Storm Warning - and pitched the idea to NBC as a mini-series.
Abraham Van Helsing may be the most famous of the early occult detectives, but there were many others who appeared in Victorian and Edwardian literature.
Today I look back at some of the early supernatural sleuths who helped to define a genre that is still going strong today…
Occult detectives explore paranormal mysteries, sometimes by using spiritual skills. They could be normal detectives investigating the occult, occultists who use the dark arts to solve crime, or detectives with supernatural abilities such as clairvoyance.
Occult detectives began in the mid-19th century: Poe’s Murders in the Rue Morgue (1841) had set the template for detective fiction, whilst spiritualism and paranormal research also began to interest the public. Séances and Ouija boards were familiar tropes for Victorian readers.
In the shadowy corners of the shortwave spectrum lurk the Numbers Stations: strange radio broadcasts of mysterious blocks of numbers in creepy monotone voices!
It's actually an old form of spycraft which is still in use today. Let's take a listen...
A Numbers Station is a type of one-way voice link for sending information to spies in foreign countries. Operating on Short Wave radio bands they transmit a secret code of spoken numbers.
Use of Numbers Stations peaked during the Cold War, but some are still operating today.
Numbers Stations are operated by various national intelligence agencies. At set times on a pre-arranged frequency a musical tone is played, followed by a speech synthesised voice reading out blocks of numbers. To most listeners it sounds both creepy and meaningless.