Archive | February, 2011

PULP News: An Anthology of Pulp Interest

25 Feb

There is often too much for PULPable to cover in any one post, so today we take a brief look at some of the more esoteric, eccentric, and exciting news in our little world of femme fatales and silhouettes.

Margaret Atwood’s “In Love with Raymond Chandler”

Recently revisited by both Roger Ebert and many others is a Margaret Atwood poem from her collection Good Bones, titled “In Love With Raymond Chandler”.


The full text of the poem can be found here, if you prefer using your eyes to using your ears, but Atwood makes for a perfect reader in the video above. She draws us into the physical and descriptive world of Chandler’s prose by focusing not on “mangled bodies and/the marinated cops and hints of eccentric sex, but [on] his interest in furniture.”


He knew that furniture could breathe, could feel, not as we do but in a way more muffled,

like the word upholstery, with its overtones of
mustiness and dust, its bouquet of sunlight on aging cloth or of scuffed leather on the backs and seats of sleazy
office chairs.

Who knew furniture could be so exciting? For Atwood, the “eccentric sex” comes only later:

Only after we
had sniffed, fingered, rubbed, rolled on, and absorbed the furniture of the room would
we fall into each other’s arms, and onto the bed (king-size? peach-colored? creaky?
narrow? four-posted? pioneer-quilted? lime-green chenille-covered?), ready at last to do
the same things to each other.

You only have to flip a few pages into The Big Sleep to see evidence of Chandler’s furniture obsession:

The white carpet that went from wall to wall looked like a fresh fall of snow at Lake Arrowhead. There were full-length mirrors and crystal doodads all over the place. The ivory furniture had chromium on it, and the enormous ivory drapes lay tumbled on the white carpet a yard from the window.

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Philip K. Dick: Blade Runner & the State of Science Fiction

Another PULPable favourite, Philip K. Dick, also came to our attention with a previously unpublished correspondence with a studio executive working on Blade Runner, the adaptation of his novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, from 1981.

Based on what he has seen of the movie, and on Harrison Ford’s interviews to promote it, Dick believes that it “will prove invincible”. The whole letter is a fascinating read.

Though some Dick adaptations are best forgotten (Paycheck, anyone?), it is true that Blade Runner broke new ground on its release. Setting action and science fiction in an urban, gritty milieu, and focusing on high sci-fi concepts, it brought some of Dick’s intellectual musings to an otherwise straightforward genre. Without Blade Runner, it is unlikely that we would have had hard science fiction like Inception or Duncan Jones‘ upcoming Mute on our screens.

And though Dick died several months before the movie was released, it’s hard not to smile at his enthusiasm:

Nothing that we have done, individually or collectively, matches BLADE RUNNER. This is not escapism; it is super realism, so gritty and detailed and authentic and goddam convincing.

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Dashiell Hammett’s Lost Works Recovered

Perhaps most exciting is the recent announcement that a cache of lost Dashiell Hammett stories has been found in the literary archives of the Harry Ransom Centre at the University of Texas in Austin. Uncovered by Andrew Gulli, editor of pulp magazine The Strand, one of the fifteen stories will be published in the next issue of the magazine.

The Guardian‘s article gives us a sneak preview of said story, titled “So I Shot Him”:

Rainey screwed himself around in his chair to see us better, or to let us see him better.

I was sitting next to him, a little to the rear. Above the porch rail his profile stood out sharp against the twilight gray of the lake, though there was nothing sharp about the profile itself. It had been smoothly rounded by thirty-five or more years of comfortable living.

Artist Owen Smith's interpretation of Hammett

“I wouldn’t have a dog that was cat-shy,” he wound up. “What good is a dog, or a man, that’s afraid of things?” Metcalf, the engineer, agreed with his employer. I had never seen him do anything else in the three days I had known them.

“Quite right,” he said. “Useless.”

Rainey twisted his face farther around to look at me. His blue eyes – large and clear – had the confident glow they always wore when he talked. You only had to have him look at you once like that to understand why he was a successful promoter.

PULPable looks forward to some more classic Hammett, but we will no doubt have to wait until his estate and his publisher put together an official collection of lost pulp gems.

DLR, 2.25.11


PULP on TV: “Red Dwarf”

16 Feb

n the early 1980s, comedy writers Rob Grant and Doug Naylor were stuck in radio and looking for a way into British television. Having written two sketch shows – Cliché and follow-up Son of Cliché – they decided to spin one of their favourite recurring sketches into a TV pilot.

“Dave Hollins – Space Cadet” was, more than anything, a comedy homage to its genre. The titular Dave was accompanied only by a computer named Hab – a parody of 2001‘s Hal – and was drifting in space either 300 or 7 trillion years away from Earth, depending on which sketch you were listening to. By the end of Son of Cliché, Dave successfully returns to Earth, however the human race has since become subordinate to fruit flies, beetles and P.E. teachers.

When the pilot was finished, Grant and Naylor shopped it around to just about every production company in Britain. Each said the same thing: the comedy worked, but the science fiction was either unfilmable, or a distraction from the comedy. Even after Paul Jackson (a producer for The Young Ones among other sitcoms) commissioned it in the mid-80s, electricians’ strikes and other obstacles meant that production was delayed until 1987.

Red Dwarf itself

Red Dwarf had finally made it to BBC North three years after the pilot was written, being recorded in front of audiences that had been press-ganged into the studio from nearby pubs.

Combining sci-fi and comedy has never been the most obvious or most successful choice for film or television, but Red Dwarf at its best featured sci-fi concepts that were more original than many of its ‘straight’ sci-fi contemporaries, while still managing to poke fun at the absurdity of the more conventional sci-fi tropes.

It is the 21st (or, the 23rd) century, and Dave Lister is the lowest of the low on Red Dwarf, an ugly, five-mile long mining ship. A Liverpudlian slob, Lister’s direct superior and bunk-mate on board ship is the neurotic, chronically underachieving Arnold Rimmer. After Lister is found with an unquarantined cat, he is sentenced to spend 18 months in suspended animation.

Series I: "Me²"

Unfortunately, during this time, the crew is wiped out by a radiation leak and Lister awakes 3 million years later to find himself alone but for the ship’s computer (renamed Holly), a creature who evolved from his pet cat, and a hologram projection of his dead roommate, Rimmer.

he first two seasons focused on the antagonism between Lister and Rimmer more than on sci-fi plots, since Grant and Naylor wanted to establish the characters before writing them into overtly sci-fi scenarios that might turn viewers off. What was more, Red Dwarf‘s future featured no aliens, and no humans other than Lister. Though they covered some familiar terrain – parallel universes and virtual reality – they also ran into more unusual situations: the Cat-people’s religion venerates Lister as their God, and a mutated version of the flu turns Dave’s hallucinations into flesh and blood in “Confidence and Paranoia” (an episode that featured a pre-American Craig Ferguson as the American incarnation of Lister’s Confidence, below).

Luckily, the BBC had commissioned two seasons from the outset, so the crew’s second outing featured more science fiction, and a little more back story that made Rimmer a tad more sympathetic.

y the third season, Doug Naylor had convinced Rob Grant to bring back a guest character from season 2. Initially resistant to the cliche of a robot on board ship, Grant gave in, and android Kryten was added to the mix, along with a new female version of Holly, and a total revamp to the sets

Series 3 introduced Kryten and a more up-to-date look

which made it appear as though Dwarf‘s budget was much larger than it truly was.

From the third season onwards, the show was at its peak, garnering up to 8 million viewers for each new episode – an all-time high for BBC 2.

Though the sci-fi focus was stronger, Grant and Naylor’s background in sketch writing still shone through in season 3’s character moments. The first show, “Backwards” opens with this conversation between Lister and the Cat as they watch television from their bunks:

Lister: D’ya think Wilma’s sexy?
Cat: Wilma Flintstone?
Lister: Maybe we’ve been alone in deep space too long, but every time I see that body, it drives me crazy. Is it me?
Cat: Well, I think in all probability, Wilma Flintstone is the most desirable woman that ever lived.
Lister: That’s good. I thought I was going strange.
Cat: She’s incredible!
Lister: What d’ya think of Betty?
Cat: Betty Rubble? Well, I would go with Betty… but I’d be thinking of Wilma.
Lister: This is crazy. Why are we talking about going to bed with Wilma Flintstone?
Cat: You’re right. We’re nuts. This is an insane conversation.
Lister: She’ll never leave Fred, and we know it.

A fourth, fifth and sixth season followed in 1991, ’92 and ’93, but each successively forced comedy onto the back burner and put sci-fi at its centre. After a break of four years and the departure of Rob Grant, season 7 added filmization and Lister’s ex-girlfriend

Series VIII: "Gunmen of the Apocalypse"

Kochanski, and dropped both Rimmer and the studio audience, while season 8 saw the return of both. However, resurrecting the whole crew of Red Dwarf during season 8 undid the original premise of the show and meant that Lister was no longer the grossed-out slob of a last human.

Though neither season hit the comedy notes that the earlier shows had, they still rode on high-sci-fi concepts: the crew encountered a version of Earth where time is running backwards; destroyed a White Hole which was spewing time into the universe; crashed onto a moon that terraformed itself according to Rimmer’s psyche; and fought a computer virus via a virtual reality version of the Wild West.

But where Red Dwarf worked best was in the combination of its ‘Odd Couple’ sitcom set-up with a science fiction premise that allowed for the ultimate Lister-Rimmer antagonism. In season 5’s “Back to Reality“, Grant and Naylor hit the nail on the head. The crew is killed and awakes from a virtual reality video game named, of course, “Red Dwarf”. Having scored a pitiful 4% in the game, they have to come to terms with their new “reality”, including the revelation that Rimmer is Lister’s half-brother.

More Philip K. Dick than anything else, the episode has remained a fan favourite and one of BBC 2’s highest-rated broadcasts.

With a new season in the works, we can only hope that some of Rob Grant’s writing finds its way back into the show, and that the dreary Red Dwarf: Back to Earth specials of 2008 are soon forgotten. After all, in science fiction, anything is possible.

DLR, 02.16.11