Carnival Girl

Cutting Edge Books has performed a marvelous job preserving mid-20th century fiction. The publisher's new editions of classic titles by the likes of Howard Hunt, Ovid Demaris, Ralph Dennis, and March Hastings position these vintage, sometimes expensive literary works, into the spotlight for a whole new generation of crime-fiction and mystery fans. 

One of the authors that Cutting Edge has focused on is Stuart James, an underrated crime-noir author that also served as a staff writer and sports reporter for magazines and newspapers. James also became an editor for Midwood Books, a subsidiary of paperback powerhouse Tower Publications. I thoroughly enjoyed the Cutting Edge editions of James' novels Frisco Flat (1960) and Judge Not My Sins (1951). I was happy to discover another Cutting Edge title, Carnival Girl, authored by Max Gareth, a pseudonym employed by James. The novel was originally published in 1960 by a small, low-budget publishing house called Chariot Books, home of other underrated novelists like Arthur Adlon and John Burton Thompson. 

Norma is a gorgeous Midwestern girl raised by an alcoholic single mom. When she's nearly raped by her drunken stepfather, Norma runs away from home. In the book's opening pages, readers find Norma at an Indiana diner using her last dime for food and coffee. Thankfully, the waitress displays some pity, and arranges for her to catch a ride “west” with a truck-driving customer. However, Norma doesn't realize that the waitress earned an extra tip by selling her to the highest bidder. On a lonely stretch of blacktop, the trucker rapes Norma before she escapes to a nearby farm. After being sized-up by a farm laborer, she manages to escape what is perceived as an attempted rape by flagging down two people traveling with the carnival.

The carny duo (slang for employees of a carnival) convinces Norma that she can make it in the carnival as a stripper. Back then, a fan favorite at rural, small town carnivals is the peep show, where men and boys with enough coins could enter a tent to watch naked women dance. Norma learns a few tricks and before long she is the carnival's number one attraction. But, she draws the attention of three specific men.

Speed is the good guy daredevil that performs motorcycle tricks. He falls in love with Norma, but she doesn't have the same feelings for him. Instead, Norma is lusting after Lee, the bad boy carnival drummer. There's also a man named Frank, who pitches Norma a lot of cash to come to St. Louis to work his nightclub. But, she later learns that Frank is in deep with the Mob and if she takes his job, she'll be passed around as a prostitute making a meager living lying on her back for criminals. It's a twisty, hot triangle with innocent Norma caught in the middle. 

With Carnival Girl, Stuart James completes a vivid, often disturbing character study of this young, unfortunate woman and her abrupt, violent end of innocence. Like Judge Not My Sins proved, James was such a clever storyteller with an uncanny ability to make his characters lifelike. By using a common crime-noir trope, the traveling carnival, James is able to submerge this inexperienced character into a world of depravity. Norma is a living doll thrust into dangerous situations and guided by seedy men with below-the-belt motivations. 

Carnival Girl isn't the proverbial happily ever after story of love on the run, but instead a more provocative look at young men and women pursuing carnal desires no matter the cost. It is these types of stories that made Stuart James such a talented, organic storyteller. 

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Whip of Desire

March Hastings was one of a number of pseudonyms used by author Sally Singer (b. 1930). The New York native specialized in erotic fiction and wrote over 20 novels between 1958 to 1976. These vintage paperbacks have become collector's items and often fetch prices over $100. Thankfully, Cutting Edge has been reprinting Singer's work as affordable paperbacks and ebooks. I read her 1961 lesbian novel The Outcasts and found it enjoyable enough to warrant a revisit of the author's work. I chose the Cutting Edge reprint of Whip of Desire. It was originally published by Midwood in 1962.

The book stars Fred Boyer, a 28 year old man originally from Alaska. He now lives in New York, plays the piano and has a pregnant wife named Mindy. In the opening chapter, Fred is at an employment agency hoping to find work. He's provided instructions to a theater ran by a gorgeous woman named Eve. Instantly, Fred and Eve connect and in a matter of days they establish a business that's funded by Eve's wealthy father. Fred will compose and perform music and Eve will put together a stage act. 

Later, readers learn that Eve's father crashed the family plane years ago, an accident that killed Eve's sister and injured her. Eve feels she is somehow responsible for her sister's death and harms herself frequently – pain as her penance for surviving. As Fred soon realizes, Eve craves rough sex and demands to be dominated. Eventually, Fred's heated desires for Eve erupts in a frenzy of pleasure and pain. He's liberated from the financial stress of being a husband and an expectant father by forcefully taking Eve. She pleasurably gains the abuse she feels she deserves while he is freed from life's cumbersome shackles by becoming her lover. But, Fred learns there is another man in Eve's life, a man so abusive that he leaves Eve broken, bloody, and nearly dead.

As an intriguing romance novel of the 1960s, Whip of Desire introduces some surprising elements. Both Fred and Eve were dynamic characters and the story was serviceable enough. I think Singer is a terrific writer, but she really finds her element in the sex scenes. Her descriptions are never graphic, but really convey the emotions and physical collision between these lovers. Mindy's mistrust in Fred, Eve's backstory, the business venture, and Eve's domineering “other man” made for a propulsive, fully developed story that I found entertaining. 

If you enjoy heated, erotic mid-20th century romance novels, then Whip of Desire will surely be a real pleasure to read. Recommended. Buy a copy HERE.

The Outcasts

Author Sally Singer (b. 1930) utilized a number of pseudonyms to author lesbian pulp fiction in the mid-20th Century. The most popular of these pseudonyms was March Hastings, a name she used to author 11 novels from 1958 through 1969. My first experience with the author is her 1961 novel The Outcasts, written as March Hasting and originally published by Midwood. The novel has now been reprinted for modern audiences by Cutting Edge Books.

Jennie is a twenty-something New York woman married to an aspiring artist named Brian. They have had a rocky marriage stemming from a failed pregnancy but remain together to avoid an embarrassing divorce. Brian's sexual urges have led him to months of infidelity while Jennie struggles to control her personal desires and sexual frustrations with Brian. As the novel begins, Brian rapes Jennie before instructing her to accompany him to an art show where his work is being shown.

It's at the art show where Jennie is introduced to Brian's business advocate, a luscious, sexually-charged woman named Leigh. In forced conversation, Jennie learns from Leigh that she has had sex with Brian, thus the personal interest in his below-average painting talents. Leigh and her husband are extremely wealthy and they invite both Brian and Jennie to the couple's swanky seaside mansion for the weekend. Jennie, caving to her desire to learn more about Leigh, accepts the proposal despite her white-hot anger with Brian.

As the wet and wild weekend getaway unfolds, Jennie spirals further into her sexually repressed feelings. The first night at the mansion, Jennie witnesses Leigh and Brian engaged in sexual foreplay, a not-so-shocking discovery that leads Jennie to pleasure herself while watching Brian from a window. Jennie's instinct is that Leigh is toying with Brian, perhaps using him as some sort of bizarre and ritualistic way to attract Jennie. Needless to say, The Outcasts takes a turn into full-on lesbian affairs as Leigh and Jennie realize they are both sexually starving from frustrated heterosexual relationships.

The Outcasts, as a 1961 seedy paperback, isn't remotely graphic by today's standards, but Singer writes in a provocative way that is visually stimulating and somehow still timeless. Regardless of whether you like lesbian pulp-fiction (newsflash: this is my first foray into it), The Outcasts has this riveting subplot that involves Leigh's freakish husband. As the novel ascended from kinky foreplay into heightened arousal, Singer successfully incorporates an element that is mostly found in Gothic Romance – the beautiful young woman trapped in the mansion of doom. Leigh's odd basement combined with her equally odd husband added a sense of panic and fear to what would otherwise be a tame lesbian romance. I believe this additional element upsold me from liking to loving this book. Based on sheer reading pleasure, I'll be reading more of Sally Singer's literary work.

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