I have often admired people obsessed with collecting. I understand it’s the same kind of psychological catch whatever is collected and that the collected is just a visible sign of a general malady of sorts (or perhaps ”mechanism” is a nicer term). I’ve come across it mainly in friends who are record collectors and – malady or not – I am often envious of their passion. Because that’s how the benign aspects of collecting appear: as a passionate obsession that gives life meaning.
The less benign forms can take on more possessive elements, not unlike those in people dependent on drugs or alcohol. That is, if the dose is not there or if some outer force is manipulating the stability of the self-created dependency, the boat is rocked and sometimes even wrecked. I’ve never seen this in my friends, I’m happy to say, but know of others whose marriages and other kinds of relationships have been nothing but chimera in comparison with the precious possession/obsession in question.
John Harrsion is a passionately obsessed writer from Australia who took a liking to the seedier sides of life while a teenager in the late 70s in the outskirts of Melbourne. An avid collector of comics, model kits and paperbacks since then, he has had a chance to actively ponder the collecting in itself as well as the collected material, in that he’s always written about his passions. This leads to wonderful insights and revelations for the rest of us, as mere amateurs and wanna-be-collectors.
”Hip Pocket Sleaze” is a delightful book based on Harrison’s intuitive construction or self-reflection. It consists of sections on the history of paperbacks, their publishers, their cover artists (key people, as the covers and catch phrases were basically what sold the books), interviews with other collectors and a run-through of several of Harrison’s own favourites.
Well inside the book, we are thrown right into the void of sensationalism, reptile brain stimuli, bright colours and, let’s not forget, unintended cultural barometers. In many cases the sensationalist paperbacks of the 1950s and 60s were signs of what was taboo or controversial at the time. In many ways parallel to exploitation cinema (and there were often tie-ins between these two forms), the pulp paperbacks provided lurid titillation more than pro or contra arguments in current affairs. But perhaps it isn’t too far fetched to say that the thematic visibility filtered through the pulp fiction was at least to an extent helpful, for good or bad, in paving the way for cultural developments (liberalisation of drugs, gay rights, women’s sexual liberation, the acceptance of occultism and other fringe movements, moral standpoints in current crime affairs, etc).
If something current was controversial enough, there was always a chance of making some money. Although the goal was certainly only to make a profit, the thematics of these seedy literary creations were part of a Zeigeist mind that was indeed changing at this time in Western culture.
This is something that in itself hasn’t really changed. The phenomenon is simply spelled p-r-u-r-i-e-n-c-e. But the main difference is that our own culture is all about evanescence. The lurid aspects are spewed out in daily tabloids and hourly blogs rather than objectified in attractive books and movies. And as you can’t really collect something as transparent as a blog, both the personal-fetishistic and the cultural barometer aspects are more or less non-existent today. In many ways a shame.
Harrison’s book therefore becomes a highly entertaining insight into an emotionally charged world that fulfils fantasies on many different levels. It’s nostalgic (back to the era, back to the teenager’s crystallisation) but never sentimental. It’s prurient, but most often on meta levels (the desire is here focused on the obejcts and not on the themes or contents). And it’s also well-written and pedagogically structured – in places almost like a school text book (”A Beginner’s Class in Sleaze”?).
What’s missing in ”Hip Pocket Sleaze” are the grand tableaux, with reproductions in full colour of all of these wonderful book covers. That would be an idea for a series of coffee table books along the lines of Taschen’s incredible series ”The History of Men’s Magazines”. Feral House’ volumes ”Dope Menace – The Sensational World of Drug Paperbacks” and ”Sin-A-Rama – Sleaze Sex Paperbacks of the Sixties” are definitely great forerunners here, but there’s always more to be done.
Perhaps Mr Harrison feels inclined to plunge into an all colour coffee table format some time soon. I hope so. With ”Hip Pocket Sleaze” he has certainly proven that he can master his beloved pulp paperback format without any problems whatsoever.
John Harrison: Hip Pocket Sleaze – The Lurid World of Vintage Adult Paperbacks
Headpress, Paperback, 400 pages
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