Kit Marlowe

Deeper Into 1960s Sleaze

I think calling these books ā€œsleazeā€ is a fucking insulting putdown word by plugged-up asshole academics and NY Times bestseller-list snobs feel way above their station. Fuck ’em, and the sleaze they rode in on, that’s what I say, from my unassailable, literary nabob pinnacle, never forgetting my roots…as I wish they might remember theirs.

After my post a few days ago I’ve been spending more time lately reading about the sleaze paperbacks of the 1960s. I picked up a couple of (relatively) cheap books from eBay and Abe, and managed to find digital versions of a few more. And while I’ve been reading some of the actual work, I’ve been spending a lot of time reading about them, as well.

This has been one of those deep dives where the more I learn, the weirder and more fascinating it all gets. I went in expecting not much more than trashy covers and scandalous titles (and don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of that) but there’s also this whole world of genre-mashing, pseudonyms, and unexpected literary history tucked away in these books that I’m amazed by.

That's not to say that some of the content in these books isn't completely repulsive, of course. I've put down more of these books than I've finished reading because some authors seem absolutely fascinated by topics that would turn your stomach. For the rest of this post, and basically any time I talk about these books in a positive light, let's assume I'm not talking about that side of things. That's maybe a topic for another day.

The thing with these books is that when they're good they're really engaging. And it’s especially fascinating when you start to realise who was writing these things. A huge number of these vbooks were published under pseudonyms or personal aliases (a practice that, of course, persists today. Do you think my government name is ā€œKit Marloweā€?), which makes it sort of like literary archaeology trying to figure out who did what. Some writers used them as a stepping stone to more mainstream careers, while others simply used them as a way to pay the bills. (Again, the more things change, the more things stay the same.) Harlan Ellison, for example, wrote Sex Gang in 1959 under the name Paul Merchant. This is a collection of linked stories originally written for various pulp magazines, wrapped in scandalous titles to boost sales. Physical copies of this go for well over Ā£300 these days and I’d love to own one but, alas, I don’t have that money to spare. (Maybe someone else will commission me to write a story for them and then I can treat myself.)

Donald E. Westlake and Lawrence Block, both of whom went on to become major crime writers, also spent a good chunk of their early careers in the sleaze trenches. Westlake used names like ā€˜Alan Marshall’ and ā€˜Edwin West’, with Block often writing as ā€˜Sheldon Lord’ or ā€˜Andrew Shaw’. The two are also known to have collaborated at times; the most well-known (and well-verified) of these collabs seems to be a book called Sin Hellcat, which also goes for about Ā£150. This is another one I’d love to read. It’s wild to me that two future legends of noir fiction were at one point knocking out sex novels together on tight deadlines just to keep the lights on. And despite the constraints of the genre, you can often seen glimmers of their later voices in these early works - sharp dialogue, off beat humour, and a real feel for character.

Robert Silverberg, who’s best known for science fiction, also spent a few incredibly prolific years in the sleaze markets. He’s said in interviews that at the peak of it he was writing a novel every two weeks. A lot of them - most of them, let’s be honest - were pure pulp, but every now and then something stranger and more ambitious would slip through. Sex Jungle (1959), published under the name Don Elliott, it one example of this. It’s a coming-of-age story dressed up as smut, but by all accounts it actually reads more like a gritty urban bildungsroman (so far I’ve been unable to track down a copy to read for myself). Love Addict, also as Don Elliot, leans similarly psychological, following a man who becomes obsessed with chasing women to fill a deeper emotional void.

Silverberg has said that writing these books helped him learn to craft characters quickly and cleanly, and you can see flashes of the writer he would become even in his sleaziest material. As a writer myself I find this really interesting, because it tracks with my own experience too. I’ve been writing fiction for over 20 years, and writing professionally for close to 6 years, but in the past couple of months of writing smut I’ve really felt my character work come on leaps and bounds in a very small amount of time. (That’s probably a topic for another blog post at some point.)

Something else that fascinates me is the queer side of sleaze. Because these books were operating under the radar, they often managed to tell stories that mainstream publishing wouldn’t touch, and in particular they were able to tell stories about queer characters. Writers like Ann Weldy (writing as, and more famous as, Ann Bannon), Marjorie Meaker (writing as Vin Packer), and Valerie Taylor wrote lesbian pulp fiction that offered a glimpse at queer life that was hard to find anywhere else at the time. Bannon’s Beebo Brinker Chronicles are probably the most well-known now, with the effect that they’re some of the easiest books of these era to get hold of and actually read in the present day. And they still hold up surprisingly well, not just as period pieces but as emotionally rich stories with real depth. Meaker’s Spring Fire is also another landmark. It’s often said to be the novel that launched lesbian pulp fiction as a genre, selling hundreds of thousands of copies. These seem to me to be a really important part of queer literary history, and they’re a part that I don’t see people talk about very often.

What’s so compelling to me about these books is how many contradictions they contain. They’re formulaic, but also wildly inventive. They’re exploitative, but groundbreaking. They were written quickly, anonymously, and (oftentimes) cynically, yet some of them still manage to feel raw and honest and weirdly moving.

I’m still really new to all of this, and I’m definitely not an expert, but it’s been fun digging through this forgotten little corner of publishing. If you’ve got a favourite title, author, or especially a great cover (some of them are truly something else), I’d love to hear about it. There’s something exciting about tracing the lines between pulp, crime, queer lit, and science fiction through books that were never supposed to last but somehow did.

And, after all of this, I’m still determined to write something in this style. Watch this space for that.

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