Escapist Literature Should be Mostly Escapism

Now while this statement should seem almost self-evident (it’s practically a tautology), I’ve noticed that the current trend in the traditional genres of escapism (Fantasy, Superhero, & Science Fiction) is for the work to become more and more preachy. As if they’re using the medium to talk down and “educate” the idiot masses. Sometimes it’s just a smug little quip about an issue. More and more it’s been almost feature length “messages” horned into previously popular franchises.

For me the breaking point was a recent episode of Dr. Who. The new Doctor, in a female incarnation, meets Rosa Parks- not so bad in itself – but most of the episode, 55 minutes in length, was spent of lecturing the clueless companions (and through them, us - the idiot audience) all about the Civil Rights era – a lot of which was incorrect or way too condensed. The actual “story” took up about fifteen minutes of time and revolved around some racist from the future coming back in time to knock Rosa Parks off before she could sit at the front of the bus. Not an alien who happened to be around at that time, maybe trying to get home, maybe dealing with similar issues on their own planet. No, it was some cookie-cutter red-faced racist who wanted to destroy Rosa Parks. Why? Because he’s evil, that’s why. What more do you need to know, you racist! The entire endeavor was as subtle as a sledgehammer.

The purpose of these escapist genres was to allow the reader to cast their minds away from the nonsense of the world. For the reader to believe that the biggest evil in the world could be cured by throwing a magic ring into a volcano, that there was no problem too big for Superman to handle, that only a spaceship ride away was a world of adventure and beautiful green-skinned women. The escape from reality is why all of these genres became popular in the first place. People want to leave the world and have fun. 

 

That isn’t to say you cannot talk about social issues in your story. Take a look at any issue of the X-Men from the 1980s (the Claremont era for those in the know) and you will see a message of tolerance for those who are different from you. Somehow this straight, white, male author managed to place this message without disrupting the story or being preachy. 

How did he do this? By putting the escapism and story first. If you are working in the fantasy, science fiction, horror, or superhero genre and the purpose of your tale is to push forward an ideological message, then you have a clunker on your hands. Stick to being outraged on Twitter. In escapist genres, the world, the oddity, the break from reality, has to come first. People don’t want a lecture, they want to see something beyond the norm. If you can’t deliver then, move onto a different type of writing. 

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More Anti-Syphilis Propaganda from WWII

This is, of course, a continuation of the theme from my previous post on propaganda designed to warn the average solider on the dangers of venereal diseases- most specifically gonorrhea and syphilis. In my research for a short story, I kept running across these posters and decided to share them with whomever was interested.

This wasn’t only meant as a warning for our fighting men though. These posters often were found in various factories and shipyards, which had been converted over to produce wartime goods. A paper in 1944 warned dock workers, “Four in every 100 industrial employees have syphilis… venereal disease is one of the greatest enemies of industry. The State Federation of Labor considers it so important that the executive board has recommended a compulsory blood test for all union members.”

Exact numbers of service men affected by VD is difficult to come by, but it is estimated that during WWI gonorrhea and syphilis disabled at least 18,000 men a day. By WWII that number dropped radically to 606 men per day. This was mostly due to the development of the latex condom, advances in medicine, and heightened awareness of the diseases due to propaganda.

So sit back, relax, and take a look at what convinced your grandpa to slap on a rubber during his time overseas. Enjoy and Caveat Emptor.

For more fun try books by Rex Hurst

 

For more fun try books by Rex Hurst

Anti-Syphilis Propaganda from WWII

Not that there was pro-syphilis propaganda during WWII, most military historians will tell you the number one killer of men during wartime was disease. The diseases attacked in these posters, syphilis and gonorrhea, were not life threatening in terms of the length of a war, but they were one of the top reasons men would be less than fighting ready and treating infected men ate up a lot of medical resources.

Also, let’s not forget that penicillin, the most effective and permanent cure for syphilis and gonorrhea, would not be discovered until 1947. Many who caught the diseases would still suffer from death in its tertiary stage, even if the mercury treatment worked. Prior to 1947, the most effective treatment was to induce malaria into the patient, which would burn out the syphilis germs, and then treat the malaria with quinine. That still could have long lasting ill effects.

Thus, it was in the interest of the War Department to prevent syphilis from spreading. However, how do you do that with a mobile army of horny 18 year old men? First, by making sure condoms were cheap and plentiful. Secondly, by constantly bombarding the troops with shock-and-awe posters about the dangers of banging a whore.

As you will see, some are simplistic catch phrase level material, designed to make a lasting impression in an idiot’s brain. Some of them are more comprehensive posters listing all the horrors syphilis and gonorrhea will do to a penis.

Enjoy and Caveat Emptor.

 

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Condom Tins from the 1920s

The use of prophylactics, like abortion, is an age-old tradition dating back to the root of civilization itself. The Roman, the Greek, the Ancient Egyptians used linen ones or ones made from dried animal intestines. However, it wasn’t until Mr. Goodyear and his technique for synthesizing natural rubber, that the current condom was born. Then in 1919, the single-use latex condoms were invented by  Frederick Killian from Ohio. 

Latex was the ideal material for condom production as it was thinner than rubber, didn’t aged as quickly and was relatively odorless. Using latex also meant that condoms were cheap and fast to produce, leading to mass production. 

However, it wasn’t until the 1920s, with a lift on the ban in advertising for condoms, that things began to take shape. During WWI only, the German army distributed condoms to its troops. Thus, it was estimated that at least 5% of British and American military forces came back home infected with either syphilis or gonorrhea. A public health scare ensued and so the ban was lifted to help alleviate people’s fears. This is reflected in many of the images below, which proclaim on their front cover “sold for the prevention of disease” or “for medical purposes”. Meaning, you’re not supposed to enjoy having sex while using them, I guess.  

During my current research, I came across a number of old pictures of condom tins. Yes, they were distributed in little tins boxes which could contain between three and twenty, depending on the pack size. They are below. Enjoy and Caveat Emptor.  
         For more fun try books by Rex Hurst

For more fun try books by Rex Hurst

A Discussion on Abortion from the 2nd Century

In my research for my next short story, I ran across these little gems from Soranos of Ephesus. He was a 2^nd Century Greek physician who practiced in Rome around the year 100 CE. Several of his writings still survive, most notably his four-volume treatise on gynaecology, and ‘woman’s illnesses’. As we can see from this passage, the discussion on the morality of abortion stretches long into the past.

“A contraceptive device differs from an abortion. The first prevents conception, the latter destroys that which has already been conceived. Let us be clear in that which destroys and that which prevents conception.

“Now, as for abortives, some people call them ‘expulsives’ and do not include any special drugs among them, but rather consider only physical actions such as violent movements or jumping up and down. Hippocrates in his ‘On the Nature of the Child’ mentions jumping with a hard spanking using the hand and fingernails to facilitate expulsion.

 

“On the other hand, some doctors reject abortion entirely, quoting another line of Hippocrates ‘I have never given a single abortive to one single woman’ Supporters of that belief add that the role of medicine is to protect and safeguard that which Nature gives life to.

“Still other doctors introduce a distinction: The refuse to give an abortion to women wanting one as a s result of adultery or to preserve their beauty, but they will authorize it when it provides a way to eliminate a health risk during pregnancy. Perhaps the womb is too small to handle going to full term or fistulas block the mouth of the vagina; or some other illness ravages the woman. These doctors say, though, they prefer contraceptives, since it’s less dangerous to prevent pregnancy than it is to induce abortion…..However, one should never detach the embryo with a sharp instrument. There’s too much risk of wounding the surrounding regions.”

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A Female Slave Fights Off Her Master- A True Slave Narrative

The Federal Writers Project was a make-work initiative by the Federal Government under Roosevelt during the Great Depression. It’s purpose was to give employment to out-of-work writers. Among its various projects, one of the most notable was its Slave Narrative Collection which interviewed surviving former slaves. It resulted in over 2,000 interviews and close to 10,000 pages of materials.

For those who are interested most of the audio recordings have been digitized by the Library of Congress and the majority of the writer material has been archived by Project Guttenburg. A link to which is here. The narrative below was given to a researcher in 1936 in Alabama, but unfortunately her identity has been lost to time.

“In them times white men went out with colored gals and women bold. Any time they saw one and wanted her, she had to go with him, and his wife didn't say nothin’ 'bout it. Not only the men, but the women went with colored men too. That's why so many women slave owners wouldn't marry, 'cause they was goin’ with one of their slaves. These things that have been goin’ on now ain't new, they've been happenin’. That's why I say you just as well should leave 'em alone because they gwine to do what they want to anyhow….

 

“My young marster wanted to go with me, and 'cause I wouldn't go with him, he pretended I had done somethin’ and beat me. I fought him back because he had no right to beat me for not goin’ with him. His mother got mad at me for fightin’ him back and I told her why he had beat me. Well then she sent me to the courthouse to be whipped for fightin’ him. They had stocks there where most people would send their slaves to be whipped. These stocks were in the shape of a cross, and they would strap your clothes up around your waist and have nothin’ but your naked part out to whip. They didn't care who saw your nakedness . Anyway they beat me that day until I couldn't sit down. When I went to bed I had to lie on my stomach to sleep. After they finished whippin’ me, I told them they needn't think they had done somethin’ by stripping me in front of all them folk 'cause they had also stripped their mama's and sisters. God had made us all, and he had made us just alike.

“They never carried me back home after that; they put me in the Nigger Traders Office to be sold. About two days later I was sold to a man at McBean. When I got to his place everyone told me there how mean he was and that his wife was still meaner. She was jealous if needed because I was light; she said she didn't know what her husband wanted to bring that half white nigger there for, and if he didn't get rid of me pretty quick she was goin’ to leave. Well he didn't get rid of me and she left about a month after I got there. When he saw she wasn't goin’ to come back 'til after I was gone, he took me back to the Niggers Trader's Office.

 

“As long as you warn't sold, your marster was 'sponsible for you, so whenever they put on the market you had to praise yourself in order to be sold right away. If you didn't praise yourself you got a beatin’. I didn't stay in the market long. A 'dissipated’ woman bought me and I done laundry work for her and other 'dissipated women’ to pay my board 'til freedom come. They was all very nice to me.

“Whenever you want sold your folk never knowed about it 'til afterwards, sometimes they never saw you again. They didn't even know who you was sold to or where they was carryin’ you, unless you could write back and tell 'em.

“The market was in the middle of Broad and Center Streets. They made a scaffold whenever they was goin’ to sell anybody, and would put the person up on this so everybody could see 'em good. Then they would sell 'em to the highest bidder. Everybody wanted women who would have children fast. They would always ask you if you were a good breeder, and if so they would buy you at your word, but if you already had too many chillun, they would say you warn't much good. If you hadn't ever had any chillun, your marster would tell 'em you was strong, healthy, and a fast worker. You had to have somethin’ about you to be sold. Now sometimes, if you was a real pretty young gaak, somebody would buy you without knowin’ anything's 'bout you, just for yourself. Before my old marster died, he had a pretty gal he was goin’ with and he wouldn't let her work nowhere but in the house, and his wife nor nobody else didn't say nothin’ 'bout it; but they knowed better. She had three chillun for him and when he died his brother come and got the gal and the chillun.

“One white lady that lived near us at McBean slipped in a colored gal's room and cut her baby's head clean off 'cause it belonged to her husband. He beat her 'bout it and started to kill her, but she begged so I reckon he got to feelin’ sorry for her. But he kept goin’ with the colored gal and they had more chillun.

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Write-On-SC Writers Resource

Recently I’ve become co-host to a radio show on 100.7 The Point called Write-On-SC which interviews various writers around the state and discusses with the nuances of their individual genres and the difficulties of writing. Below are podcasts for the different shows. Hope you enjoy. 

Read Like a Writer: The act of analyzing what you read for benefit of improving your craft. With author Mary Sturgill 

https://writeonsc.simplecast.fm/6b909e8c 

Genre Basics: The ins and outs of writing in the Mystery genre. With author Peggy Cwiakala (chi-CO-la): https://writeonsc.simplecast.fm/ffd2a940 

Research for Historical Fiction part 1: How much is too much in historical fiction? How much historical reality is necessary? With Author Bonnie Standard:  https://writeonsc.simplecast.fm/16e0e50a

Research for Historical Fiction part 2: How much is too much in historical fiction? How much historical reality is necessary? With Mike Long:   https://writeonsc.simplecast.fm/f163a754 

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The Last Love Note of Marie-Antoinette

As we all recall Marie-Antoinette was the last queen of France before the leftist uprising of the French Revolution. The most famous anecdote about her being that when she was told that the poor have no bread to eat, she replied, “Then let them eat cake instead.” Thus proving how out of touch and ignorant she was with the common people of France. Whether she actually said this or it was a wonderful piece of propaganda is up for debate at this point. 

However, what isn’t up for debate was that her husband was incredibly shy around women and disinterested in sex (apparently they didn’t consummate the marriage until four years after the ceremony). The royal personage preferred to dabble in cuckoo clocks than diddle his wife.

Thus the young girl took on a string of lovers. One of whom was a Swedish diplomat by the name of Axel Fersen, as we see in a letter from the Comte de Creutz to King Gustave III of Sweden.

Axel Fersen

“April 10, 1780

I must confide in your majesty that the young count de Fersen has so charmed the Queen that people have started whispering. I swear that I’m unable NOT to believe that she has a crush on him; I’ve seen too many signs to doubt it.

The young count has acted admirably by his discretion and above all by his decision to go off to America.”

Years later, Fersen joined a French expeditionary force and fought valiantly in the Revolutionary War. Marie-Antoinette was sentenced to death in 1793. Fersen then wrote to his sister, pouring out this love.

“August 24, 1793

If I could still do something, could try to free her. I would suffer less. Not being able to do anything, what’s so horrid…. My greatest happiness would be to die for her, but that happiness is denied me….”

After much activity and bribing Fersen managed to get a note smuggled into Marie-Antoinette’s prison cell. It read,

“Adieu. My heart is completely yours.”

But alas, the note arrived one day after she lost her head in the guillotine, unaware of this last token of love.

                    For more fun try books by Rex Hurst

On Waiting For the Flood That Never Came

The sky is falling. The sky is falling.

I'm no chicken little, but even I bought into the hype that hurricane Florence was gonna knock down my house. Living in Columbia, SC, we get about 4 to 5 warnings a year and 90% of the time it has turned out bogus or just a heavy rain. Granted the last time it actually hit, I was caught completely off guard, but this time it was the complete opposite.

Hurricane Florence was on the warpath and the price of coffins was gonna rise! - to paraphrase Mark Twain. To listen to the news all of the other floods and hurricanes would be a glob of spit in the ocean, compared to this event, it was a typhoon, locked in a box of tsunamis, covered in explosive diarrhea. I was urged from all sides to batten down the hatches and squirrel away enough food to last the apocalypse.

I had one thing going for me. My live-in girlfriend was off on a cruise around the Caribbean with friends of her, this reducing my need to bring in enough supplies for two. My cat, Boo Radley, would be out of luck, as I refuse to pack in more food for the little glutton. If supplies ran low, he would have to make do stealing scraps from my plate. An activity he is already well versed in.

To add to the hysteria, schools began closing with an alarming rate. Not just public schools, but private ones like my own institution, which is prone to staying open until the first meteor hits the ground. All of these closed rather rapidly on advice of the State’s governor. The state militia was then called out and a general state of panic set in. The I-26 was shut down for traffic to the coast and turned into a lanes heading west for the refugees to escape the assault.

What they told me was going on.

Having learned from my previous mistake, I went on all gut-busting adventure to find food to horde when God’s wrath finally materialized in my little town. Bottled water had already been drained from the local supermarkets, even the dollar stores and gas stations were empty. The stereotype of the slow-moving southerner didn’t play out here, they most damn fast when the smell disaster in the air.

Thus I concentrated on grabbing what I could from the closest store to my house and bunkering down for the duration. The problem, of course, is that a lot of non-perishable foods are all dehydrated and terrible or packed with preservatives or canned in some syrupy solution, so I got some snacks to go along with it. Actually it was a lot of snacks, salty and sweet. All the goodness of the corn-syrupy  rainbow. There was some fruit and stuff, but that might go bad and there was a chance I could be stuck alone in my home for awhile.

The time came. The dread rainfall was imminent and then… nothing. Nothing but some grey clouds and a light sprinkling of rain. The next day, nada again. New reports showed devistations all along the coast, but it was the brightest day of the year in my town. The day after that, bright skies and happiness. I settled down for several days of  an unexpected pleasant vacation, spending the time reading, writing, eating junk food, watching films, looking at the devastation elsewhere and playing video games. It was great. Little did I know a storm of a different nature was on the horizon.

What I actually saw. 

The problems came when my girlfriend reemerged on the scene. Our agreement was that if the city was wrapped in the throes of a tidal wave, then she and her friends would remain down in Florida until the storm blew over. When the roads proved to be clear, she showed up at my doorstep, where I was parked on the couch, surrounded by fast-food wrappers, and replaying Fallout 4.

“Where’s all the water?” she asked.

“I got Mountain Dew.”

“I don’t like Mountain Dew.”

“More for me then, huh?”

“Why didn’t you get water?”

“Everyplace was out of water.”

“But you should have gotten some for me?”

“Why?”

“In case we got flooded in.”

“If we were gonna get flooded in, you were supposed to stay away.”

“That’s not the point. You should’ve been prepared if I did come through.”

“Why the hell would you drive into a hurricane?”

“But what if I did? Don’t you care about me?”

“Sure, but I thought you were smart enough to stay out of the rain.”

“So you’re saying I’m stupid?”

“If you deliberately drove into that fucking hurricane you were.” 

“But I didn’t.”

“I guess not.”

“So you still should’ve gotten prepared in case I did.”

“Why?”

“Because it would’ve been nice to know you cared.”

“Ah, shut up!”

And on and on it went like this, like a record skipping back on itself.  She insists that she was right, that some mythical what-if scenario is more important that the cold hard reality that stocking up on extra food her was unnecessary. What is with people? If a person need reassurance, how about me just being happy to see them being enough. Do you really need all sorts of useless physical tokens to believe?

I guess so.

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Weird Stuff From My Comic Collection II

Continuing with my series about odd and/or rare comics that I have discovered, this week I present new odd and/or rare comics from the yearly cull of my collection. The problem with having a reading addiction is that you inevitably collect a lot of books and, as my house is not the Tardis, space eventually runs out. Thus, I need to go through twice a year and remove tomes that I know I will never have the desire to glance through again. As I get older, this chore becomes easier and easier.

As I previously stated, there are a number of comics which you might be hard pressed to find… at least at a reasonable rate. Understand that these comics are rare, but not valuable. The reason they are rare is because there is no demand for them so they’ve never been reproduced. Lack of interest caused them to be tossed into a dollar bin and eventually were picked up by my greedy fingers.

Aarrgh

Written and drawn by Ken Struck, apparently there is a number one to this comic and a number three as well, but I’ve never seen a physical copy. This is listed as a mini-comic even though it’s actually larger than your average comic and printed on very heavy stock paper. But it was the strangeness of the piece which attracted me to it.

This comic was part of the next generation (newave) of underground cartoonists in the 1980s. He had some of his Tootles cartoons (pictured below) published in Weirdo magazine, which was edited by Peter Bagge at the time. After that came these few mini-comics and then nothing.

The art is not the best but the stories are hysterical. The man knew how to add the flavor of humor to any situation, whether domestic or bizarre. I remember passing this one around to my friends in High School and us all having a good laugh. And I’m genuinely sorry I can’t find any more material published from this author.

Tales of Jerry

Created by Jane J. Oliver, the subtitle on the first few issues of this indie comic was “The Stoned Vampire”. This might be the very definition of an underground comic. It’s in black and white and consists of series of stories around the titular Jerry from all across time- from the Renaissance to the Modern Era.

It is incredibly difficult to find information on this comic. Each issue had an average of five to seven stories. The first few issues were completely drawn by Oliver. However, as time went on, more and more illustrators drew individual stories to the comic. Starting in 1978, only ten issues were produced, averaging about one a year. The original author died in 1992 and her wish was for the comic to continue, but no one seems to have picked up the torch.

While the art is rough in places and certainly is not Marvel level professionalism, it has heart. The title is a labor of love and the joy of it’s creation is obvious in every line on every page.

I own about five issues of this series and, considering that each issue averaged about 2,500 copies, I’m probably lucky to have any. Whenever I looked for more, either it comes up nil, are issues I already own, or are way overpriced. I mean, I would like to buy it, but I’m not paying $40 for one underground comic, no matter how rare. It’s a pity someone hasn’t collected them all and put it out as a print on demand. Hell, they might even be in the public domain by now. I would but I only have half the story.

Dagar the Invincible

 I literally grabbed this one at random at the Soda City Comic Con. After my usual feeding frenzy, I was stripped of nearly all cash and weighed down by bags and bags of comics. I was about to leave, but that one final dollar was burning in my pocket. On the way out, the last (or first if you’re coming in) comic vendor had a sale box on beat-up Gold Key comics and I snagged one. Why not?

Most of Gold Key comics were crappy spin-off series, leeching off of the popularity from established names in television, cartoon, and film series. They produced comics like Daffy Duck, Happy Days, Tennessee Tuxedo, and Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. A little aside, in 1967 they also reprinted in English a little known Japanese manga called Kimba the White Lion. Many many people noticed striking similarities between the adventures of that character and Disney’s The Lion King. You can read the whole flap here if you want.

Back to Dagar the Invincible. Don’t feel ashamed if you’ve never heard of him. His run only lasted about 18 issues, but with a few minor stories appearing in several other books. He was part of Gold Key’s original series. Some went onto minor fame others didn’t. Ever hear of Magnus Robot Fighter, Turok Son of Stone, Doctor Solar, The Occult Files of Dr. Spektor? Probably not, well they’re also titles of Gold Key.

This series was somewhat unique in the comic book world of the early 70s in that it was a “sword and sorcery” title before Marvel licensed out Conan and started a boom of the genre. This is a fun read. The character really doesn’t rise above the big, brawny thug who cleaves through all his adversaries (mostly monsters, supernatural foes, and the occasional wizard). He travels around finding a new city or town each story and has no friends. It’s very decent if you’re just looking for some old school, uncomplicated, barbarian rage fun.

  For more fun try books by Rex Hurst