Penguin Crime Time: No Grave for a Lady by John & Emery Bonett (1963 / first published 1959)

Cover design by Sheila Perry.

Penguin Crime Time: Gun Before Butter (1963) & Because of the Cats (1963) by Nicolas Freeling

Cover design and photograph by Denise York.

Cover design by Denise York, photographs by Resnais.*

Like the Arthur Upfield book featured here back in April, the words and imagery on Nicolas Freeling’s trilogy of Amsterdam-set crime books have an intriguing sort of vibe about them that encourages me to actually sit down and try reading them (and the gratuitous Simenon comparisons in the back cover blurb certainly don’t hurt either). I will report back, perhaps.

Those with frighteningly long memories may recall that I posted the cover for ‘Because of the Cats’ a few years back, but it’s always worth seeing again right?

Hopefully one day I’ll find a copy of ‘Love in Amsterdam’ to complete the trilogy (I trust it has a matching cover design utilising nifty red and blue target motif), and all will be right with the world.

(Oh, and as a final note, I like the look of the supremely disreputable looking ‘Rembrandt’ club captured on the front of ‘Gun Before Butter’...)

* Not THAT Resnais, surely…? [Yes, that Resnais -- see comments. - Ed.]

Penguin Crime Time: The Night of Wenceslas by Lionel Davidson (1962)

Cover photographs by Jean-Luc Blanc.

(“..EVEN Kingsley Amis!” )

Penguin Crime Time: The Widows of Broome by Arthur Upfield (1962 / first published 1951)

Cover design by John Sewell.

Despite not knowing much about the author or his work, I think Arthur Upfield’s Australian crime novels sound quite interesting – an impression that is aided somewhat by the wonderfully creepy, sci-fi-ish cover illustration on this particular edition, which I’m planning to get stuck into during my flight to Japan this month. That’s eleven hours in the air, so here’s hoping Mr. Upfield’s prose is up to snuff. (Don’t worry readers, I’ll also be packing an Elmore Leonard and a Graham Greene, in case ‘The Widows of Broome’ proves a bust.)

Actually, by the miracle of pre-scheduled weblog posts, I will already have taken said flight by the time you’re reading this, and I hope you won’t mind me keeping this place ticking over whilst I’m abroad via the series of posts showing off some of my ever-growing stash of those immaculate green hipsters of the pulp fiction bookshelf, Penguin Crime paperbacks. Normal service to resume shortly.

Penguin Crime Week: Death at the President’s Lodgingby Michael Innes(1962)

(Cover photograph by Paul Gori)

Don’t have much to say about this one, but, um… here ya go. I like the rounded corners at the bottom of the photo. Also, skeleton!

The green on the back looks a bit toxic, doesn't it?

Penguin Crime Week: The Half Hunter by John Sherwood (1961)

(Cover design by Sheila Perry.)

Well you had me at “ice-skating beatniks”. Might have to give this one a try too.

Not sure what the big black square on the back is all about..?

Penguin Crime Week: Slow Burner by William Haggard (1965)

(Cover photograph by Peter Laurie.)

This is one of my favourite paperback covers of all time.

A scan of it was posted on Mounds & Circles earlier this year, and it provoked a certain amount of interest when I reblogged it on my Tumblr. Now, finally, I can post it here whilst observing my self-imposed book-blogging rules, as the image above is my own scan, taken from my own recently acquired copy.

So, anyway, yeah - I love this cover. Such a simple piece of design work, but also daring, unconventional, mesmerising. A bit of really sinister aesthetic beauty.

I love the fact that whilst ostensibly this is a cover focusing on the quintessential pulp image of a naked woman with a gun, the framing of Peter Laurie’s photograph rejects any sexual or exploitative interpretation. Instead, there is a certain ‘matter of fact’-ness about the photo – the detail of the model’s toes and her short, cropped hair, the German Luger and the crumpled, monochrome bed sheet – that is startling; about as distant from the old Robert McGinnis style paperback dame as you could possibly get. There is something fascinating and deeply unnerving about her shiny skin and strangely proportioned limbs, the invisibility of her facial features. She looks like a posed mannequin; the erotic implication of her nakedness is completely derailed, given a one-way ticket to uncanny valley. Unheimlich to the max. If Penguin in the ‘60s were looking for any one image to say ‘this is not your father’s crime story’, this is it.

In more prosaic terms, I also like the title, and the fact that the author’s name is only one letter different from my one of my own illustrious ancestors.

As to the book itself, well I’m unfamiliar with the work of William Haggard and the synopsis doesn’t exactly sound too thrilling, but I’ve got a soft spot for grim espionage tales and sinister goings on beneath Whitehall, so ya never know. Is Haggard just another forgotten spy hack, or could he be swinging somewhere toward the Le Carre / Eric Ambler end of the scale..? Only one way to find out – wish me luck, I’m hitting chapter # 1 this evening.

Penguin Crime Week:The Case of the Sleepwalkers Nieceby Erle Stanley Gardner(1963)

(Cover uncredited, but probably the work of Romek Marber.)

I realise I’ve been slacking off my book cover blogging duties recently, but my new acquisitions has been multiplying relentlessly this summer, so time to get back into the swing of things, beginning with a few posts dedicated to those immaculate, green-hued hipsters of the genre fiction shelves, Penguin Crime.

First off, yet another cooler-than-it-likely-has-any-right-to-be Perry Mason cover that gets me wondering whether Penguin’s adoption of the distinctive green colour scheme was inspired in some obscure fashion by the way in which yellow/giallo became so synonymous with the crime genre in Italy. Probably not, but y’know, it’s a thought.

No Explanation Necessary.

I'll be honest with you; I paid £5 for this book, but I'll almost certainly never read it.

I just hope the mild-mannered bookshop proprietor didn't hear me when I pulled it off the shelf and exclaimed "fuck me!"

Cover illustration by Jozef Gross, who it seems did a fair bit of book design, although apparently not enough to merit a wikipedia page or an online gallery anywhere.

Oh, and publication date on this one is 1965 by the way, meaning it perhaps rather cooly preempts the adoption of psychedelic imagery into mainstream culture by a coupla years...? Kinda, sorta...?