Pulp

Bleeck, G.C.

Karen — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 12:20:54 +1000

About the Author

Gordon Clive Bleeck, 1907 - 1971.

Bleeck was a prolific author of novels, novellas and short stories under various pseudonyms as well as his own name. He mostly wrote westerns, romance, sci-fi fantasy and thriller, but did produce a small number of crime titles.

Author's Website & Links

http://www.nla.gov.au/pub/nlanews/2002/nov02/article1.html

Bibliography

Crime novels

Heading for a Grave 1955
Hot Ice-Cold Killer 1955

Crime novellas

Big Shot - Little Shot 1956
Boucing Blonde 1952
Covered for Death 1952
Crime Flies 1950
The Frightened Man 1945
Nude in the Boot 1954

Crime short stories

A Gift from Gorla 1951
Exile in Space 1950

Is G. C. Bleeck one of your favourite authors?

Submitted by helen on Wed, 08/08/2007 - 11:18pm.

Last Days, The: the apocryphon of Joe Panther

Karen — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 12:21:16 +1000

ISBN 0330360590

Blurb from the book

Joe Panther is a man with many secrets. Dangerous secrets. He is a drug dealer. He is a killer. He is a private investigator. Above all, he is the messiah, fallen on hard times.

When a young woman is found crucified and decapitated in a melbounre inner-city church, the police suspect the local priest, a man with dark secrets of hiis own. The priest hires Panther to clear his name.

Soon Panther becomes both the hunter and the hunted.Nothing is as it seems-not even, perhaps, Panther's own sense of self.

How Did you Feel About The Last Days : the apocryphon of Joe Panther?

Submitted by Karen on Fri, 21/09/2007 - 3:35pm.

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Murder is Never Pretty... Even When the Corpse is a Blonde

Karen — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 12:21:07 +1000

ISBN: 1875291059

Blurb from the book

MURDER IS NEVER PRETTY ... EVEN WHEN THE CORPSE IS A BLONDE CHAPTER ONE I was cruising west along Great Eastern Highway, going nowhere in particular, waiting for the call. It was one of those nights. It was hot, the moon was full and the dregs of society were restless. Black storm clouds hung over the Perth hills to the east and we'd had a drizzle of rain. It was enough to bring out the smell of hot tar. It had been a long day and I knew it was going to be a long night. I needed a drink of good old Queensland rum but the wagging finger in the back of my brain told me I had to stay sane. Instead I pulled into my favourite Golden Arches for a coffee. The young assistant manageress smiled as she passed me my discount coffee, leaning out of the drive through window. There were no other customers. We chatted for a while as we watched a uteⁱ load of hoons rumble into the empty car park opposite. They were in one of those low-to-the-ground Holdens, with wide mudflaps, stolen bar mat on the dash, spotties strung out along the roof rack and bumper stickers covering most of the rear window. It had Northam number plates. A lanky young kid wearing an Akubra climbed out of the passenger side window with a plastic bottle of oil in his hand. He poured it over the back wheels. They were setting up for a monumental burnout. I considered calling in a rego check and going over and having a bit of a chat to them, but it wasn't any of my business. My business was murder, and I had more important things on my mind. The girl asked me if I was enjoying my coffee. The fast food girls liked us coppers dropping in from time to time for a coffee and a chat. I suppose we might respond a bit faster when they were in trouble if we knew what they looked like ... and this one satisfied two of the important criteria; she was pretty and she was a blonde. If she needed me around anytime I'd be there fast - real fast. I was trying to find out if she was married, not that it really mattered, when the mobile phone vibrated in my top pocket and played the theme from Hawaii Five O. It's a weird feeling I can never get used to, especially when it rattles up against the grip of a loaded .357 calibre Glock in a shoulder holster. 'Joe Blake, Major Crime', I answered. It was work. Someone had reported a gunshot in a Maylands unit and the local boys had been around and found a body. 'I'm off to fight the bad guys', I said to the girl as I grabbed the magnetic blue light and stuck it on the roof, hit the siren button and fired up the Commodore. While it might have come out of the government vehicle pool mine wasn't an ordinary Commodore. It was a Police Special supercharged V6 and the mechanics had played around with the computer. It went faster than most cop cars. There's a difference between a good burn-out and a great burn-out. Great burn-outs depend on three things: performance, coordination and attitude. I checked the rear view mirror, dropped the Commodore into reverse and let it roll back just a bit, enough to get the momentum going. Then I red lined the motor, slammed it into first and dropped the clutch. When the wheels were smoking I dabbed the clutch, hit second and powered out of the drive through. I drifted out onto Great Eastern Highway, slammed it into third, and managed to get that impressive squeal signifying I had all three spot on. Glancing back through the trail of smoke I could see the assistant manageress was impressed. I could tell by the way she was waving her arms. So were the dickheads from Northam. By the time I hit my first set of red traffic lights I was going fast and the magnetic blue light was struggling to hang on. I braked slightly and changed over into the oncoming lane to get around the traffic, let the back end slide a bit as I went through the lights and flicked back into the left lane. I felt the back wheels bounce off the left hand curb as I straightened up. There was plenty of noise and smoke. It was perfect. Advanced driving. Poetry in motion. Shit, I loved being a copper!

How did you feel about Murder Is Never Pretty - Even When the Corpse is a Blonde?

Submitted by helen on Thu, 09/08/2007 - 11:56pm.

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PULP FICTION: THE DAMES edited by Otto Penzler

sally906 — Thu, 30 Oct 2008 19:51:12 +1100

Cover Image

Author

Edited by Otto Penzler

Publisher

Quercus

Copyright

ISBN

No of Pages

Price

Book Synopsis

Book Review

This is the third volume of pulp fiction short stories that have been mined from various pulp fiction magazines from the 1920s, 30s and 40s. These were the golden years of pulp fiction were the men were men and the women were … well women. The dames of pulp fiction were usually draped over the front covers wearing low-cut outfits and being menaced by some burly, scarred and tattooed ruffian. PULP FICTION: THE DAMES has short stories which don’t only have women on the outside – they have women inside too. Reporters, jewel thieves gangster molls, femme fatales and tarts with hearts are all represented within these 23 short stories. While there are no female PIs, these broads certainly make their presence known, stealing the scenes from the males in the stories.

The stories themselves are mixed – some are really stand out – and others barely raised a yawn. Some of my favourites were ‘Angel Face’ which is about a stripper trying to save her little brother from the electric chair – he’s been found guilty of a crime he didn’t commit. ‘A Shock for the Countess’ is light-hearted look at the theft of a necklace, and ‘Snowbound’ looks at a battle for power between Queen Sue and a drug dealer called Suds.

Overall this is a good bedside book – you can pick it up, tired and sleepy and peruse a story or two before lights out. These are adventure stories for the most part, none of them are really dull – they may not be as good as others – but everyone is worth reading. There is lots of action, gunplay, devious double crossing cynical women and bodies galore. But the criminals just get on with it and the authors twist the plots, throwing in sex and violence for good measure. These are noir stories, hardboiled detectives and even more hardboiled women

Second Coming, The: the passion of Joe Panther

Karen — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 12:21:18 +1000

ISBN 0732268044

Blurb from the book

'There is no god,' I told him. Then I drove the syringe up into his nostril and straight through the side of his nose.'Joe Panther is a psychotic, alcoholic, violent, substance-abusing heroin dealer. He is also, he believes, Joshua Ben Pantera, born two thousand years ago, the son of Mary and the Lord God Yaweh Himself, not dead yet, the crucified Jesus: still around, abandoned by his Father, abused by the world, and as pissed off as hell.

Chapter excerpt: Chapter 1 http://www.harpercollins.com.au/global_scripts/product_catalog/book_xml....

How Did you Feel About The Second Coming : the passion of Joe Panther?

Submitted by Karen on Fri, 21/09/2007 - 3:41pm.

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Sinclair, Dennis

Karen — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 12:21:11 +1000

About the Author

Pseudonym for Allan Geoffrey Yates (1923-1985)

Author's Website & Links

Bibliography

As Dennis Sinclair

The Temple Dogs Guard My Fate 1969

Is Dennis Sinclair one of your favourite authors?

Submitted by helen on Sun, 07/10/2007 - 4:41pm.

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Valdez, Paul

Karen — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 12:21:20 +1000

About the Author

Pseudonym for Allan Geoffrey Yates (1923-1985)

Bibliography as Paul Valdez

Hypnotic Death 1949
The Fatal Focus 1950
Celluloid Suicide 1951
Flight Into Horror 1951
Ghosts Don't Kill 1951
Kill Him Gently 1951
Killer by Night 1951
Murder Gives Notice 1951
Satan's Sabbath 1951
The Time Thief 1951
You Can't Keep Murder Out 1951
The Crookⁱ Who Wasn't There! 1952
Feline Frame-Up 1952
Maniac Murders 1952
The Murder I Don't Remember 1952
There's No Future in Murder 1952

Watkins, Muriel

Karen — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 12:21:21 +1000

About the Author

Muriel Watkins collaborated with Audrey Armitage to write books under the pseudonym K. T. McCall.