Eclipse of the Heart Mary Lyons Toronto: Harlequin, 1985 |
Update:
Our home during the eclipse. |
A JOURNEY THROUGH CANADA'S FORGOTTEN, NEGLECTED AND SUPPRESSED WRITING
Eclipse of the Heart Mary Lyons Toronto: Harlequin, 1985 |
Our home during the eclipse. |
Figure It Out for Yourself James Hadley Chase [René Raymond] Toronto: Harlequin, 1957 |
Cover copy informs that the plot has something to do with the disappearance of Lee Dedrick, "husband of the fourth richest woman in the world." The reader is told to expect a brunette who shoots from "a well-turned hip," so who's the blonde?
Satan's Range Al Cody 1955 |
A Kiss from Satan Anne Hampson 1973 |
Satan Took a Bride Violet Winspear 1976 |
Satan's Angel Kristin James 1988 |
Satan's Island Sally Wentworth 1989 |
Satan's Contract Susanne McCarthy 1994 |
Satan's Master Carole Mortimer 2018 |
Never Trust a Woman [In a Vain Shadow] Raymond Marshall [René Lodge Brabazon Raymond] Toronto: Harlequin, 1957 |
Murder — Queen High Bob Wade and Bill Miller Toronto: Harlequin, 1951 |
Over the years, the Dusty Bookcase has shared some very frightening covers from Harlequin's early history. Who can forget The Corpse Came Back, the 2014 Harlequin Halloween selection.
Apologies.
Murder — Queen High rates lower on the terror-inducing index, though I think you'll agree that it's pretty scary. A feline/human form threatens a gun-packing woman in a pink frock. What exactly is going on here?
The back cover only raises more questions:
Is the woman in pink the Queen? Is she Fay Jordan, "she of the sensuous figure and the mind to match"? Could it be "the curvy, swervy girl called Sin"? Whatever the answer, Murder — Queen High may just be the craziest novel Harlequin has ever published.
He rose. "Very well, sir, I'll have a go at it."
"You've been smoking a tremendous lot." Her eyes were on the big ash tray before her."Yes."
"I like Verves," she decided, looking at the tray. "Not as much as you do, apparently... I don't smoke very much though. But when one is a bit tired, a Verve seems to give one exhilaration. Doesn't it?"
"Yes," David said after a moment, "I... think it does.""You say that very strangely."
"Do I ?" He shifted in his chair. "perhaps I'm a little lightheaded. I've sat here and smoked twenty of them in a row, and they do give one exhilaration. That's... the way they're advertised, of course. But other cigarettes, other things, have been advertised that way, too. Only... this time... and the whole world is smoking Verves. They've caught on extremely well. The whole world."She said, troubled, "You are queer.""Sorry." He crushed out the cigarette carefully and locked his hands together.
University Hospital, Edmonton, Alberta, c. 1938 |
The Dustiest Bookcase series is meant to highlight books I've had forever, and have always meant to read and review, but haven't. Destination: Universe is a cheat. It was given to me just last year by someone who knew I liked vintage paperbacks. The pages are loose, the cover is more than scuffed, and still I'm happy to have it, despite my previous encounters with the author.
In the fourteen-year history of the Dusty Bookcase, I've given van Vogt two kicks at the can. I was first dawn into his orbit in by the 1952 Harlequin cover of The House That Stood Still.
(In all seriousness, WTF, Harlequin?)
I disliked The House That Stood Still so much that I included it in my book The Dusty Bookcase. Then gave van Vogt a second chance with Masters of Time, about which I remember nothing. This old review suggests I was unimpressed.
Better than dreaming, look and you'll find
Even more than the romance that's in your mind
For the morning after the night before, this four-decade-old advert for Harlequin's Superromance series.
That voice!
My wife identified it immediately as belonging to Luther Vandross. Further research reveals that Vandross co-wrote the song.
I'm a fan.
It's interesting to note that the four titles representing the "4 NEW TITLES EVERY MONTH" were published over a seven-month period.
I wonder how they were chosen.
Abra Taylor wrote two of the four: Taste of Eden and River of Desire. Real name Barbara Brouse, she was the very first Harlequin Superromance novelist. Her Toronto Star obituary, found here on the Brouse family website, is provides an all too brief portrait of a remarkable woman.
The World's Worst Women Bernard O'Donnell Toronto: Harlequin, 1955 |
Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure:Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.— William Congreve, The Old Batchelour (1693)
She wore a wheat-coloured Irish linen suit, with an ascot of tan silk stabbed by a delicate diamond brooch. A very new, rather small mink cape was slung over her arm. Beside her brown crocodile pumps there was matched rawhide luggage tagged with BOAC labels, "Montreal".
Grosvenor House, c. 1940 |
Jane Nash was quite lovely. Brown shining hair and laughing hazel eyes like her brother's, only his weren't laughing now but strangely thoughtful. She like the way Jane looked as crisp as a lettuce in a green and white print with china bracelets heavy on one wrist and tricky white suède sandals strapped over incredibly fine nylons.
He swayed to where Veronica was sitting on on the edge of the bed, her eyes bright with tears of helpless laughter, He slapped her face. He said something in French which was neither civilised nor cultured.Veronica's face went very white, except for the red marks of his hand. She stared at him silently, incredulously.As a surgeon's daughter she knew had been on the verge of hysteria [sic]. She knew, too, that Louis had done the best thing possible by slapping her. But she also knew, with a cold certainty, that the reason for his blow had other causes and that he had no idea whatsoever of its therapeutic worth.It was like waking up and seeing a stranger. She had loved Louis deeply in England, but now he was unknown. An interloper in a loud, impossible blue suit, a belligerent, drunken, unattractive creature. She didn't love him at all.