|
Post by dem bones on Nov 29, 2012 23:06:38 GMT
C. [Cherry] Veheyne - Horror: A Grim Story Of Jack the Ripper" (Digit, 1962) Cha' Bril Blurb: A SHARP movement from Francis flung up her lids again, bracing her for emergency. He was not looking, nor moving, in her direction. He had lifted the dark garment from the floor and dropped it in the boiler. There was a red smear on the stone where it had rested. His face wore no longer its usual soft pallor; instead it had a kind of glittering whiteness, his dark eyes looked extraordinarily large, with a glassy brightness; he had a beauty more horrible to see than a hideous distortion.It is August, 1888. Young Mary Warden has flown in the face of propriety and common sense, eloped to the wicked city of London with aspiring photographer Bob Hemingway, the black sheep of his family, thrown out by his father and stepmother as an idling ne'er do well. Bob has preceded her to the city to make sure their wedding goes off without a hitch, and true to form, he's made a hash of it. Because he resides outside the parish, their marriage cannot go ahead for another ten days, meaning Mary must shut herself away at Mrs. Eades lodging house and masquerade as 'Mrs. Hemmingway' to avoid a monstrous blemish on her reputation. If only she'd listened to everyone given this handsome buffoon the widest of berths! Should she swallow her pride and return to Marsh Bywick and the security of the Carey household, even if it is as an unpaid skivvy. She supposes they've been good to her, even if they are beastly because "only have her welfare at heart." Eventually, a compromise. Mary insists Bob tell the landlady the truth. Jolly Mrs Eaves is sympathetic, rents Bob the room next door to Marys and tells them not to worry, "you'll have a good laugh about it when you're safely married!" Check that subtitle. I shouldn't take her word for it .... Enter Reverend Francis Pace, 32, a family friend engaged in Missionary work in East London. Francis insists Mary leave the squalid boarding house and move in with he and his mother in the staff wing at the Pace House of Help on Whitechapel High Street, a refuge for reformed prostitutes. "Lor! Miss, you ain't going there surely - not after those horrible murders," exclaims the maid, but Francis gives her the hard sell. "It's a terrible district, Mary. Whitechapel, Shoreditch, Spitalfields. All around are the worst type, mostly aliens. Unimaginable things, and people, are there. You oughtn't to come here, Mary, unless you come to save, or to be saved."[/i] Mary moves into Pace House and is immediately befriended by Beatie Smith, a permanently chirpy reformed working girl who, nonetheless, fears the Ripper will consider her fair game on account of her previous occupation. Bessie fills her in on the local gossip relating to the murders. Francis Pace's loyal acolyte David Uskly, a simpleton who hails from Mary's neck of the woods, was with one of the victims on the night she died and might have swung for the crime were it not for the Reverend's testimony. to be continued ...
|
|
|
Post by dem bones on Dec 8, 2012 18:02:46 GMT
Up to p.70 (of 160) and it it continues in similar vein, this will find a much coveted place on personal 'best of 2012' listing. In the aftermath of the Ripper's murder of Mary Anne Nichols, Mary's suspicions about the weird philanthropists she's fallen in with grow with their every off-kilter utterance. To Mrs. Pace the murders are pleasing to God, who, working in his usual mysterious way, has decided to rid the East End of vice. Mrs Pace loathes her own sex as she does the men who are too weak to resist them, so deplores Mary's continued relationship with Bob Hemingway. Francis, meanwhile, suffers from neuralgia and flies into maniacal rages. His mother has stifled him to the point where he looks upon any joy in life as an abominable sin. These two are aided and abetted by their lapdog, the imbecile David Uskly, who Mary has caught burning one of Mrs. Paces blood-stained aprons in the furnace. For all her fears that the trio are 'Jack the Ripper', still Mary shuns the escape route open to her, even though fiancé Bob's photography business is already a relatively thriving concern.
|
|
|
Post by jamesdoig on Jul 1, 2016 22:20:34 GMT
C. [Cherry] Veheyne - Horror: A Grim Story Of Jack the Ripper" (Digit, 1962) Cha' Bril Blurb: A SHARP movement from Francis flung up her lids again, bracing her for emergency. He was not looking, nor moving, in her direction. He had lifted the dark garment from the floor and dropped it in the boiler. There was a red smear on the stone where it had rested. His face wore no longer its usual soft pallor; instead it had a kind of glittering whiteness, his dark eyes looked extraordinarily large, with a glassy brightness; he had a beauty more horrible to see than a hideous distortion.It is August, 1888. Young Mary Warden has flown in the face of propriety and common sense, eloped to the wicked city of London with aspiring photographer Bob Hemingway, the black sheep of his family, thrown out by his father and stepmother as an idling ne'er do well. Bob has preceded her to the city to make sure their wedding goes off without a hitch, and true to form, he's made a hash of it. Because he resides outside the parish, their marriage cannot go ahead for another ten days, meaning Mary must shut herself away at Mrs. Eades lodging house and masquerade as 'Mrs. Hemmingway' to avoid a monstrous blemish on her reputation. If only she'd listened to everyone given this handsome buffoon the widest of berths! Should she swallow her pride and return to Marsh Bywick and the security of the Carey household, even if it is as an unpaid skivvy. She supposes they've been good to her, even if they are beastly because "only have her welfare at heart." Eventually, a compromise. Mary insists Bob tell the landlady the truth. Jolly Mrs Eaves is sympathetic, rents Bob the room next door to Marys and tells them not to worry, "you'll have a good laugh about it when you're safely married!" Check that subtitle. I shouldn't take her word for it .... Enter Reverend Francis Pace, 32, a family friend engaged in Missionary work in East London. Francis insists Mary leave the squalid boarding house and move in with he and his mother in the staff wing at the Pace House of Help on Whitechapel High Street, a refuge for reformed prostitutes. "Lor! Miss, you ain't going there surely - not after those horrible murders," exclaims the maid, but Francis gives her the hard sell. "It's a terrible district, Mary. Whitechapel, Shoreditch, Spitalfields. All around are the worst type, mostly aliens. Unimaginable things, and people, are there. You oughtn't to come here, Mary, unless you come to save, or to be saved." [/i] Mary moves into Pace House and is immediately befriended by Beatie Smith, a permanently chirpy reformed working girl who, nonetheless, fears the Ripper will consider her fair game on account of her previous occupation. Bessie fills her in on the local gossip relating to the murders. Francis Pace's loyal acolyte David Uskly, a simpleton who hails from Mary's neck of the woods, was with one of the victims on the night she died and might have swung for the crime were it not for the Reverend's testimony. to be continued ...[/quote] Here's an Australian edition, published by Bill Ewington Books in South Australia. No date but I'd guess early 70s, given the cover and .80c price.
|
|
|
Post by dem bones on Jul 4, 2016 10:21:40 GMT
Thanks James. The Aus cover is the more appropriate, but I prefer Cha' Bril's painting (and the uncompromising retitling). Never did get to finish that "review" but it's a super novel, very grimy.
|
|
|
Post by jamesdoig on Jul 6, 2016 2:39:02 GMT
Thanks James. The Aus cover is the more appropriate, but I prefer Cha' Bril's painting (and the uncompromising retitling). Never did get to finish that "review" but it's a super novel, very grimy. I prefer painted covers too, though the tacky photographic covers have a certain period charm. I think the first time I found anyone who appreciated them was on the Vault.
|
|
|
Post by dem bones on Jul 6, 2016 7:52:47 GMT
I prefer painted covers too, though the tacky photographic covers have a certain period charm. I think the first time I found anyone who appreciated them was on the Vault. With something like Rod Serling's Triple W, there's the dilemma of choosing between the original's gorgeous painting and the reprint's extraordinarily "tacky" photo cover. 'Normal' people might conclude they don't need two versions of the same book. Vault vets would look at them as though they were insane.
|
|