Review: Up the China Sea - H. Bedford-Jones

When I reviewed Edmond Hamilton’s “The World With a Thousand Moons”, I mentioned that it reminded me of some of the nautical adventure yarns written by H. Bedford-Jones. That put me in the mood to actually read one of those stories by HB-J, and the one I picked was “Up the China Sea”, a novella originally published in the July 10, 1923 issue of the iconic pulp ADVENTURE and available as a stand-alone e-book on Amazon, the edition I read. (Ignore the old-fashioned pirate on the e-book cover; this is a modern-day yarn.)

The protagonist of this story is a stalwart sailor named Bracken, who’s the first officer of a steamer called the Fengshui. (I have to admit, the ship’s name is a bit of a distraction at first, but I soon forgot about it.) The steamer leaves Singapore and heads up the coast to salvage the cargo off a ship that wrecked. Bracken doesn’t fully trust the captain and suspects there’s more going on than he knows about, and of course, he’s right. The wreck holds secrets that involve the attractive widow of its late captain, and Bracken and his crewmates aren’t the only ones after them.

Bedford-Jones doesn’t keep the plot twists secret for very long since the bulk of the story is devoted to scenes of chasing and fighting and cold-blooded murder, of capture and escape and daring rescues. All the stuff of classic pulp adventure yarns, in other words. Bedford-Jones keeps things racing along to an exciting, bullet-flying climax.

I always enjoy stories like this, and “Up the China Sea” is no exception. I really like the way Bedford-Jones writes, and that clean, propulsive style makes a story like this—which is just a tad bit by the numbers, to be honest—very entertaining to read. If you’re a fan of his work, it’s very much worth reading. If you’ve never sampled one of his yarns before, it wouldn’t be a bad place to start since it’s an example of the type of story that Bedford-Jones did better than just about anybody else.

Review: The World With a Thousand Moons - Edmond Hamilton

Edmond Hamilton continues to be one of my favorite authors of the sort of action-packed adventure science fiction I really enjoy. This novella originally appeared in the December 1942 issue of AMAZING STORIES. There’s a free e-book edition available on Amazon, which is where I read it.

This yarn is set in our solar system, no deep space or space opera in this one. Instead, it has a gritty, hardboiled tone as meteor miner Lance Kenniston (a pulp hero name if I ever saw one) and his hulking Jovian partner trick a group of rich, thrill-seeking space tourists from Earth into helping them try to recover a fortune in loot from a crashed spaceship that belonged to a notorious space pirate. The wrecked ship is on Vesta, the second-largest body in the Asteroid Belt, and since it’s surrounded by smaller asteroids, that makes it the World With a Thousand Moons, according to the title.

Just navigating through those orbiting obstacles and getting there is enough of a challenge, but Vesta is also inhabited by mysterious, deadly creatures that are feared throughout the solar system. Throw in the complication that not everything is as it appears to be at first, and you’ve got the makings of a fast-paced, exciting tale.

It occurred to me as I was reading this novella that it’s the science fiction equivalent of the sort of adventure stories H. Bedford-Jones was so good at. You’ve got a two-fisted sailor (spaceman) protagonist, a beautiful girl, a treasure to be salvaged, treachery all around, and despicable bad guys. I always enjoy this plot when Bedford-Jones uses it, and in Hamilton’s hands, it’s almost as good.

I had a fine time reading THE WORLD WITH A THOUSAND MOONS. If you’re a fan of classic-style science fiction, there’s a good chance you would, too. Recommended.

Sunday Morning Bonus Pulp: Argosy, April 21, 1934

I haven't featured an issue of ARGOSY in a while, and this one sports a nice dramatic cover by Paul Stahr, whose covers I nearly always enjoy. As usual, there are some fine writers inside this issue: Erle Stanley Gardner, Max Brand, Fred MacIsaac, J.D. Newsom, Karl Detzer, and the lesser-known Anson Hatch and Howard Ellis Davis. The Brand, MacIsaac, and Detzer stories are all serial installments, but if I had a copy of this one (I don't) I'd be happy to read the novelettes by Gardner and Newsom.

Saturday Morning Western Pulp: Double Action Western, September 1950

Since posting my review of Harry Sinclair Drago's novel APACHE CROSSING earlier this week, I've discovered that the novel also appeared in the September 1950 issue of DOUBLE ACTION WESTERN, also under the Will Ermine name. I don't have that issue so I can't compare the texts, but the book is fairly short in the Popular Library paperback edition, 160 pages, and the pulp version runs 68 double-columned pages of, I assume, fairly small type, so it may or may not have been expanded for book publication. Also in this issue are a short story by Lee Floren and a short-short by W.G. Wyatt, who has only two credits in the Fictionmags Index, the other one being a novella in the May 1950 issue of BLUE RIBBON WESTERN. It wouldn't surprise me at all if the W.G. Wyatt name was a pseudonym, maybe for editor Robert W. Lowndes. That's pure speculation on my part, though. I think the pulp cover is by A. Leslie Ross, but it's hard to be sure because the hombre doesn't have a hat on. Ross's hats are unmistakable.

A Rough Edges Rerun Review: Secret Agent X: Faceless Fury - Brant House (G.T. Fleming-Roberts)

I’ve been in a pulpish mood lately, and one of the things I’ve read is the Secret Agent X novel FACELESS FURY, from the April 1936 issue of the Secret Agent X pulp.

This series ran for 41 issues, and I’ve probably read more than half the novels. One of the consistent problems with Secret Agent X is that, as you might guess from his name, he’s pretty much of a cipher. We never learn his real name or much about his background. We don’t even know what he really looks like because he’s always in disguise. He could be anybody. And yet the novels are usually entertaining because of the bizarre plots and fast pacing.

In FACELESS FURY, which was written by G.T. Fleming-Roberts under the house-name Brant House, the bizarre elements are certainly in place. You’ve got a criminal mastermind with his head completely covered in bandages except for the eyes, which, oh by the way, shoot out an acid so powerful that it’ll completely eat away a man’s face in seconds; you’ve got a similarly bandaged amnesia victim in a sanitarium who may or may not be the mastermind; and you’ve got multiple murder victims found clutching children’s toy blocks in their hands. Not to mention forgers, gentleman jewel thieves, dope fiends, and beautiful actresses with sinister secrets. For a while this seems like a kitchen sink novel, with Fleming-Roberts throwing in every wild thing he can think of whether it makes any sense or not, but by the end of the novel he succeeds it tying it all together fairly neatly. It’s very easy to figure out who the killer really is, but you don’t read this kind of story for the mystery angle, anyway. At least I don’t.

Although Fleming-Roberts didn’t create the Secret Agent X character, he wrote more of the novels than anyone else and is considered by some pulp fans to be the series’ best author. I sort of prefer the stories by Paul Chadwick, the creator of the character, but I like Fleming-Roberts’ work, too, and FACELESS FURY is one of his best entries, well worth checking out if you’re a fan of the hero pulps. Not a bad place to start if you’re a pulp fan and have never read a Secret Agent X novel, either.

(This post originally appeared in a somewhat different form on December 18, 2007. Altus Press has reprinted the entire Secret Agent X series in a series of beautiful trade paperback volumes. "Faceless Fury" is available on Amazon in Volume 6 of that series.)

Review: The Case of the Lame Canary - Erle Stanley Gardner

THE CASE OF THE LAME CANARY is the 11^th novel in the Perry Mason series, published in hardcover by William Morrow in 1937 and reprinted many times in paperback since then. It starts off, as so many of the novels do, with something odd catching Perry Mason’s interest. A beautiful young woman carrying a canary in a cage visits Mason’s office and tries to hire him to represent her sister in a divorce action. The sister’s husband, you see, is kind of a shady character and has embezzled quite a bit of money from his wife. He’s also threatened to kill her, and that’s why the wife’s sister has the canary. She’s afraid her jerk of a brother-in-law might hurt it. Mason first refuses to take the case. He doesn’t do divorce work, he states flatly. But then he notices that the canary has a sore foot, or claw or talon or whatever you call it, and that intrigues him enough to make him agree to look into the matter.

By now you’re thinking the same thing I was: there’s a lot more to this story than what Mason’s potential client is telling him. Somebody’s going to wind up being murdered, and that canary will turn out to be important. That’s exactly what happens, of course, and we’d all be disappointed if it didn’t. Things get very complicated before the end, as they always do in a novel by Erle Stanley Gardner, but the whole thing revolves around a car wreck, multiple impersonations, a flying trip to Reno, and two, count ‘em, two inquests instead of an actual trial scene.

Since this is one of the novels from the Thirties, Mason is still more hardboiled than he would be in later decades and actually punches a guy and knocks him down. Paul Drake has some pretty funny banter in places, and the whole Perry/Della/Paul dynamic is in good form. Della gets a little tiresome with her constantly badgering Mason to leave the murders behind and take an around-the-world cruise with her, but she also comes through when Mason needs her to pull a stunt that could land her in trouble with the law.

I actually spotted the vital clue and figured out who the killer was pretty early on, which is rare for me when it comes to reading this series. I never figured out the motivation behind everything, though, and I have to admit, the clues were right there in plain sight. Still, I was proud of myself for knowing who the killer was. After that revelation, in an annoying final chapter that could have been left off the book, Gardner makes a rare misstep. This is the book where Mason proposes to Della Street, and it’s no gimmick to trap a killer, it’s the real thing. Thankfully, she turns him down. But even so, none of that rang true to me where these characters are concerned. It’s not enough of a problem to ruin the book or anything like that, but I wish he hadn’t done it.

All that said, I enjoyed THE CASE OF THE LAME CANARY. I’ve been reading this series for 60 years now, and I’ve never read one I didn’t enjoy. I expect to continue reading one now and then for as long as I’m around.

Review: Apache Crossing - Will Ermine (Harry Sinclair Drago)

I admit, one reason I bought this book is because of the great Sam Cherry cover, which first appeared on the August 1949 issue of the pulp GIANT WESTERN. But also, I knew that Will Ermine, the author of APACHE CROSSING, was really Harry Sinclair Drago, a prolific and popular author of Western stories and novels under his own name as well as his best-known pseudonym Bliss Lomax, in addition to the novels he wrote as Will Ermine. I’ve read Drago’s work numerous times in the past and always enjoyed it, so I expected to like APACHE CROSSING.

The protagonist is a young cowboy named Pat Ritchie who breaks his leg while on a cattle drive through Indian Territory. His outfit has to leave him behind, and he winds up recuperating while staying with a gang of mostly sympathetic outlaws led by a frontier philosopher known as Little Bill Guthrie. Little Bill knows that Pat is tempted to remain with the gang once his leg is healed, but the boss outlaw doesn’t want the young cowboy to start riding the owlhoot trail. He tries to send Pat away, but a chance for a lucrative bank robbery comes up and the rest of the gang wants to use Pat to hold some horses in reserve for the getaway. He wouldn’t participate in the actual holdup, but in the eyes of the law he would still be an outlaw.

Of course, things don’t go as planned. There’s a big shootout in town and the gang has to scatter. Pat makes his way to Arizona, goes to work on a ranch there, falls in love with the rancher’s beautiful daughter, and hopes that his shady past will never catch up to him. I think we all know how that’s going to turn out. Throw in some rustlers plaguing the ranch, too, and you’ve got the makings of a riproaring traditional Western novel.

By the time this novel was published originally by Doubleday in 1950, Harry Sinclair Drago was already an old-timer, having started writing Westerns for the pulps in the early Twenties. Not surprisingly, that causes it to have a bit of an old-fashioned feel to it, rather than the hardboiled grittiness you find in a lot of post-war Westerns. Pat Ritchie is about as clean-cut and stalwart a hero as you’ll ever see, always trying to do the decent and honorable thing even when he’s hanging around with a bunch of owlhoots. Those outlaws, especially their leader Little Bill Guthrie, are the only characters in this book with any moral complexity. Drago’s portrayal of Little Bill is excellent. He was also a historian and produced several well-regarded volumes of Western non-fiction, and that gives his fiction a feeling of authenticity and realism.

APACHE CROSSING ambles along at a very pleasant pace with a fine mix of sympathetic characters, dastardly villains, vivid settings, and enough action to keep things interesting. I really enjoyed it, and I’m glad the cover prompted me to buy a copy. Recommended if you’re a fan of traditional Westerns.

Sunday Morning Bonus Pulp: Battle Birds, February 1940

I don’t own this pulp, but I do own an e-book reprint of it which I read recently because it contains one of David Goodis’s early aviation yarns, and after reading Cullen Gallagher’s excellent books about Goodis’s pulp fiction, I wanted to sample one of them. I figured I might as well go ahead and read the other stories while I was at it.

This is actually the first issue of BATTLE BIRDS’ third incarnation as a pulp. It started out as a regular aviation/air war pulp under the name BATTLE BIRDS in December 1932 and continued for 19 issues through the June 1934 issue. Then with the July 1934 issue, it became a character pulp with science fiction elements as DUSTY AYRES AND HIS BATTLE BIRDS, with the title character leading an air war against a future invader of the United States. I read one of those many, many years ago and probably ought to check out that series again. That lasted for 12 issues until July/August 1935. The title was dormant for a few years until BATTLE BIRDS made a comeback with this issue from February 1940.

Robert Sidney Bowen, who wrote all those earlier Dusty Ayres novels as well as scores of other aviation and air war yarns, leads off this issue with the novella “The Last Flight of the Damned”. Bowen was a solid pro who knew how to keep a story perking along with action and drama, but the plot of this one, involving a German mad scientist who comes up with a super-scientific weapon (powered by handwavium, no doubt) with which to destroy Allied planes during World War I, had been done an awful lot, even by 1940. Despite it being well-written, I had a little trouble working up much excitement about this one—which is absolutely unfair of me because I’ll read Western pulp stories with plots that had been used even more and still love them. I know that the stalwart cowboy falling in love with the rancher’s beautiful daughter and saving the ranch is even more of a stereotype than the German mad scientist and his super weapon. But I guess as readers we like what we like, and “The Last Flight of the Damned”, while mildly entertaining, is nothing special.

David Goodis is up next with “Bullets For the Brave”, published under his own name instead of one of the numerous house-names under which he also worked, and it’s about as different as you can get from Bowen’s tale and have both of them still be World War I aviation yarns. There are no super-weapons in this one, just raw human emotion and suffering as an American pilot loses his nerve after surviving being shot down and gets a reputation among his squadron for being yellow. His efforts to live with that and finally redeem himself are pretty powerful stuff, and Goodis’s prose is unrelentingly bleak. This is a really good story and just makes me want to read more of Goodis’s pulp fiction.

I don’t know anything about Moran Tudury except that he wrote hundreds of stories for various aviation, sports, Western, and romance pulps beginning in the mid-Twenties and then finally cracked the slicks in the mid-Forties. His short story in this issue, “The Ghost Rides West”, is about a German ace who is shot down again and again, only to rise from the grave and continue fighting. An American pilot who flies for the Lafayette Escadrille eventually figures out the secret behind this seemingly unkillable ace. It’s a decent story. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything by Tudury, but based on this yarn, I would again.

Despite his name, Orlando Rigoni was a Westerner born and raised, born in Utah and spending most of his life in northern California. He was a railroader, a miner, and worked for the Forest Service in addition to being a very prolific pulpster who wrote hundreds of stories, mostly for the Western pulps, but he started out in the aviation pulps and contributed quite a few stories to them. He also wrote dozens of Western novels and is best remembered for those today. I knew his name as a Western writer long before I found out he wrote aviation stories, too. His story in this issue, “Eagles Fly Alone”, is an excellent yarn about the Horde of Hellions, a group of pilots who are mavericks and have trouble adjusting to a more disciplined style of flying and fighting when a new commander comes in. This is the first thing by Rigoni that I recall reading, although I have several of his Western novels on my shelves. I really ought to get around to reading them one of these days.

Harold F. Cruickshank is another author I knew as a Western writer long before I realized he got his start in the war and aviation pulps in the late Twenties. I haven’t really liked the Western stories I’ve read by him. I don’t know what it is, but something about them just rubs me the wrong way. He did a long series in RANGE RIDERS WESTERN about a group of settlers in Sun Bear Valley, a series that’s sometimes referred to as the Pioneer Folk series. I got to the point that I just skipped those because I knew I wouldn’t enjoy them. “The Valley of the Green Death” in this issue is the first air war yarn I’ve read by him, and I wanted to give it a fair chance. One problem that crops up right away and isn’t Cruickshank's fault is that the group of pilots in this story is also called the Hellions. This is something the editor should have addressed by asking either Cruickshank or Rigoni to change the name of their group or at least not running the stories back-to-back in the same issue. But again, this isn’t Cruickshank's fault, so I pressed on. Sure enough, the villain of this story is a mad German scientist who’s invented a superscientific weapon to kill American pilots. But wait! This time the mad German scientist isn’t a wizened little gnome or a disfigured giant. No, he’s actually a pilot himself and an ace, to boot. This is a very nice twist, and I’ll give Cruickshank credit for it. The story itself isn’t bad. I thought the writing was a little clunky in places, but it moves right along and wound up being enjoyable. I’d read more of Cruickshank's aviation stories, which is good because I have some of them.

“Passport to the Grave” is the only story by Rupert B. Chandler listed in the Fictionmags Index. That always makes me suspicious that the name is a pseudonym. This story has an interesting idea—a group of fliers known as Squadron Ex that’s made up of pilots from different countries—but the writing is clumsy enough that I had to reread several passages just to figure out what was going on. One of the squadron’s members is shot down and believed to be dead, and another pilot goes on a one-man mission to avenge him and uncover a traitor in the group. There are definitely things to like in this one if the writing was better. Maybe Rupert B. Chandler was a real guy and that’s the best he could do. Kind of a shame if he didn’t get a chance to develop, for whatever reason.

The final story in the issue is “The All-American Ace” by Metteau Miles, evidently the author’s real name, who published a dozen and a half stories in a brief career between 1937 and 1941. It’s a pretty good yarn about a former All-American college football player who’s now a pilot flying alongside a former teammate. When the teammate gets shot down, the protagonist sets out to avenge him (a lot of that going around). This is a pretty well-written tale with good characters. I enjoyed it.

Overall, I enjoyed the whole issue, but the more aviation stories I read, the more I realize I need to space them out. As I said above, I’m really being unfair to the genre since I’m a lot more tolerant of stereotypical plots in Westerns—and in detective and science fiction pulps, too, to be honest—than I am of these. Still, I’ve become more of an aviation pulp fan than I’ve been in the past and look forward to reading more of them.

Saturday Morning Western Pulp: 10 Story Western Magazine, October 1944

That is one rough-looking hombre on this issue of 10 STORY WESTERN MAGAZINE. I'm not sure if that cover is by Sam Cherry or Robert Stanley, but it's a mighty good one no matter who painted it. I don't own this issue, but if you do, it looks like a good one to read since it includes stories by L.P. Holmes, Norman A. Fox, Tom W. Blackburn, Philip Ketchum, William Heuman, Gunnison Steele (Bennie Gardner), William R. Cox, and lesser-known authors Morgan Lewis and Joe Payne. It would be hard to find a better lineup of authors in a Western pulp from the mid-Forties.

A Rough Edges Rerun Review: Trail of the Hunter - Dudley Dean (Dudley Dean McGaughey)

This book opens right in the middle of the action, a technique I always like, with brothers Justin and Ford Emery clashing over Justin’s wife Samantha, whom he suspects of having an affair with Ford. This rift, following a really brutal fistfight between the brothers, causes them to split up, Ford remaining on the ranch they own in Texas while Justin takes part of the herd and starts north for Dakota Territory.

As it turns out, that’s not a very smart move, because first the trail drive runs into a killer blizzard, and then a deadly menace from Samantha’s past unexpectedly shows up to threaten not only Justin and Samantha’s marriage but also their lives. And from there, things get even worse as the author, Dudley Dean McGaughey (who also wrote under the name Dean Owen and several other pseudonyms), really heaps on the trials and tribulations for the troubled couple.

This is a fine hardboiled Western novel with plenty of gritty action scenes and nice lines like describing a man as being “mean enough to braid his own hangrope”. For a Western published in 1963, there’s a lot of talk about sex, although all the actual bedding down happens off-screen, so to speak. Justin Emery is a really tough hero, absorbing an unusual amount of punishment but still coming back to take on his enemies. McGaughey was a consistently fine Western author, and I thoroughly enjoyed this particular example of his work.

(This post originally appeared in somewhat different form on October 2, 2009.)