Paperback 1148: Murder at Hazlemoor / Agatha Christie (Dell 937)

Paperback 1148: Dell 937 (1st ptg, 1957)

Title: Murder at Hazelmoor

Author: Agatha Christie

Cover artist: Milton Glaser

Condition: 8/10 

Value: $12

[Part of my Big Christie Haul from Autumn Leaves, late summer '25]

Best things about this cover: 

• Look, I know there's not a lot going on in this painting, but the more I look at it, the cooler it gets. It's by legendary graphic designer Milton Glaser (creator of the I 🩷 NY logo among many other iconic images), and the composition and details are really compelling if you give them the time of day.
• I love the tiny details, like the fringe on the rug, and the two little untied laces. The tread on the heels of those shoes is also amazing. Those shoes seem expensive, as do those (exquisite) socks.
• The dude's pants, though, are the coup de grâce. They are perfectly, stiffly triangular. No wrinkles, no folds, an impossible fabric that defies gravity and gives the whole picture an air of whimsy (and despite all the murder in Christie stories, whimsy is never far off)

Best things about this back cover: 

• Oh hell yes, Mapback (advent calendar edition)!
• Look at those damned trees. The little stylized trees holding up perfect little arcs of snow. Where do you find those? Probably the same place you find those pants on the cover. And the little gingerbread houses, and the stars. Gorgeous.
• I know (from the cover of another version of this same paperback) that there's a seance involved, and I'm newly obsessed with seances and hauntings and ghosts and people's belief in ghosts, so I think I'll put this away and save it for a nice midwinter read. Something to lighten the gloom of midwinter.

Page 123~

    "The only other person in the village is Captain Wyatt. He smokes opium, I believe. And he's easily the worst-tempered man in England. Anything more you want to know?"

    "I don't think so," said Emily. "What you have told me seems pretty comprehensive."

Disagree. I need to know more about Captain Wyatt right now. He sounds fascinating.

~RP

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Paperback 1147: Lord Edgware Dies / Agatha Christie (Fontana Books 719)

Paperback 1147: Fontana 719 (5th ptg, 1962)

Title: Lord Edgware Dies

Author: Agatha Christie

Cover artist: Uncredited

Condition: 8/10

Value: $20

[Autumn Leaves, Ithaca, NY, August 2025]

Best things about this cover: 

• OK so I have a theory about how Lord Edgware dies
• I love this woman. I love her hat and her veil and her refusal to let anything (anything!) else be in the picture except her. I want to marry this woman, I'm sure it would be fine
• If I see British vintage paperbacks, or any non-US vintage paperbacks, and they're in any kind of condition, I buy them. This one was part of a massive Christie haul that I took out of Autumn Leaves a couple months back. So, yeah, prepare for a Christie onslaught!

Best things about this back cover: 

• "Was it really she who committed the murder?" Me, looking at front cover: "Yeah, pretty sure."
• Actually, if you ask "was it really she who committed the murder?" on the damned back cover, I'm gonna rule out precisely one person as the murderer. Thanks a lot.
• Shoulda called it Poirot Probes Industriously. Everybody dies, but how many probe industriously? Bloody few, I'd say.
• The layout here is inexcusably messy. Non-indented, non-separated paragraphs, all crammed down low on the page. And "effects a startling denouement"?! Were Brits just not fluent in pulp patter? You're selling murder mysteries here, not reviewing Chekhov, come on!

Page 123~

"I do not play games. You know that. Murder is not a game. It is serious. And anyway, Hastings, you should not use that phrase—playing the game. It is not said anymore. I have discovered that. It is dead. Young people laugh when they hear it. Mais oui, young beautiful girls will laugh at you if you say 'playing the game' and 'not cricket.'"

Wait, you mean 'not cricket' is out of style!? Since 1933!? No wonder young beautiful girls are always laughing at me!

~RP

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Paperback 1146: Sexbound / Dean McCoy (Beacon B460F)

Paperback 1146: Beacon B460F (PBO, 1961)

Title: Sexbound

Author: Dean McCoy

Cover artist: Uncredited [Clement Micarelli]

Condition: 6.5/10

Value: $12-15

[Autumn Leaves, Ithaca NY, Aug. 2025]

Best things about this cover: 

• This novel combines two things I love: motels and frankness.
• Not just "frank"—"WHOLLY FRANK." No partial frankness here, nosiree. You get the whole frank and nothing but the frank. 
• Sexbound! It's a play on "snowbound." Get it? Like when you're trapped in a motel because of the sex storm outside. Only it's a sex storm inside, and your extremely lifelike partner has her head awkwardly propped up by a giant pillow while she chews her nails, sexily. That kind of "sexbound."
• If you ignore her hands, and her head, and the fact that she looks like she fell into this position from a great height, this is great girl art (GGA).
• A sleazy book in a sleazy condition. Very well read. Solid, with a tight spine, but with lots of edge wear and mild creasing. Some grime. This book looks like I imagine this motel feels. Like, is it sexy, or is it just ... dirty?
• "Grappling with the problems of infidelity created by America's roadside inns"—I love when sleaze poses as a public service message. "You'll definitely want to read this in order to stay informed about one of the great social ills of our day and definitely not because it will mildly arouse you while you are unsexbound in your sad and lonely motel room."

Best things about this back cover: 

• Some take the low road, and some take ... the blow road ('cause of the snow! the snow, I mean! Look at it blowing there in that ridiculously small sketch)
• "Excuse me, I'm lost. Could you tell me how to get to Lydia Lane?"
• "No, not Barbara!," I imagine someone exclaiming as they read this. Someone who knows Barbara from, like, PTA meetings.
• "It remained for the lush waitress, Vinnie, to pick up the pieces." Surely one of the great pieces of back cover copy. Poetic in its ridiculousness, or vice versa.
• Again with the FRANKness, and again with the public service announcement: "Read this book so that you may learn (in detail!) the perils of fucking strangers in roadside inns!"

Page 123~

When he had poured whiskey into glasses, he said, "Here's to the mating of my Porsche with your T-bird."

There's euphemism, and then there's whatever this is. "So you're gonna put your car in my ... car? I think you've had enough whiskey, big boy."

~RP

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Paperback 1145: Ten Plus One / Ed McBain (PermaBook M-4304)

Paperback 1145: PermaBook M-4304 (1st ptg., 1964)

Title: Ten Plus One

Author: Ed McBain

Cover artist: [photo cover]

Condition: 9.5/10

Value: $15-20

[Autumn Leaves, Ithaca, NY, Sep. 2025]

Best things about this cover: 

• [Original title: "Eleven"]
• Am I supposed to believe this guy has just been shot? It looks more like he just realized he forgot to pick up laundry detergent. "My wife's gonna kill me!" "Take it easy, Larry, take it easy!"
• This book is square and unread. Square unread—absolute collector bait. The only "wear" is edgewear. The spine is immaculate. I will pretty much buy *any* paperback published between 1940 and 1970 if it's in this kind of condition. Luckily, today, the cover happens to be supercool and unusual, and the author happens to be major.

Best things about this back cover: 

• "A tiny hole in the head"—or, if you're the guy on the cover, a big red blood splotch hovering about three feet above and to the right of your head.
• This is classic—some might even say "cliché"—thriller stuff. Buncha random shootings! What's behind it all? No one knows! Let's find out!
• Detective Steve Carella subsequently retired from the force, dropped the "a" from his last name, and had a fairly successful career as a comedic actor.

Page 123~

They had searched David Arthur Cohen's apartment from transom to trellis—the apartment boasted a small outdoor terrace overlooking a beautiful view of the River Harb—and found nothing at all incriminating. This did not mean that Cohen wasn't a very clever murderer who had hidden his rifle in an old garage somewhere. It simply meant that, for the time being, the detectives had found nothing in his apartment.

"From Trellis to Transom: The Searching of David Arthur Cohen's Apartment"—OK, it needs workshopping, but it's still a sight better than Ten Plus One. Also, do people really abbreviate "Harbor" like that? 

~RP

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Paperback 1144: Cassidy's Girl / David Goodis (Gold Medal 544)

Paperback 1144: Gold Medal 544 (2nd ptg, 1955)

Title: Cassidy's Girl

Author: David Goodis

Cover artist: Uncredited [Owen Kampen]

Condition: 7/10

Value: $40

[The Book Den, Santa Barbara, CA, Aug. 2025]

Best things about this cover: 

• "Do these pants make my ass look fat?," Cassidy wondered aloud. Cassidy's girl grunted noncommitally, too absorbed in her blank book to care about her boyfriend's sullen insecurity.
• Everyone here is too rounded and ... globular to be sexy. This includes his shoulder blades and her hair. Her arm looks like it contains no bones. That cannot be a comfortable reading position.
• Did the pagans collide head on with life? Is that why they went extinct?

Best things about this back cover: 

• Black on dark green is hard to read. Also, the green makes it look like Cassidy's girl is lying on a billiards table. 
• Why bother to do a completely new sketch that is so close to the cover image? Maybe this was the original sketch that formed the basis for the cover painting. Still, they could've done something different here. Without the bed for context, she just looks like she's taken an awkward fall. On a billiards table.
• "Powerful, salty, elemental." Like mussels, or Cassidy's armpit after a night of fighting and drinking and loving.

Page 123~

    There was the sound of a chair scraping. Cassidy opened his eyes and saw Spann rising and Pauline rising also. Spann aimed the heel of his palm at Pauline's face and Pauline leaned far back to get away, then came in very fast to collect a handful of Spann's hair. She pulled hard, and Spann opened his mouth wide and screamed without making a sound.

Oh, pagan. I get it now. (I don't get it)

~RP

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Paperback 1143: Six Times Death / William Irish (Popular Library 137)

Paperback 1143: Popular Library 137 (PBO 1948)

Title: Six Times Death

Author: William Irish (pseud. of Cornell Woolrich)

Cover artist: Uncredited [would guess H. Lawrence Hoffman, but that's a guess]

Condition: 7/10 

Value: $50

[The Book Den, Santa Barbara, CA, Aug. 2025]

Best things about this cover: 

• Such a weird cover. Looks more like an animation still than a typical paperback cover painting. I love the little firemen silhouettes. At least I think they're firemen. They're a little ominous. Kinda look like cops who've shown up to a house in the middle of the night to fill it full of lead (those hoses shoot awfully straight)
• Why does the fire look like a goddess who is about to snack on some hapless mortals?
• That blurb is the kind of blurb you write when you didn't read the book. "These are definitely [flips through book] short stories, which should please the kind of people who like that sort of thing"—NEW YORK TIMES
• Another great Cornell Woolrich paperback that I picked up for a (relative) song this summer. It contains the story "Marihuana," which, as a stand-alone paperback (Dell 10c), is one of the most iconic vintage paperbacks there is.

And today's back cover ...

Best things about this back cover: 

• Popular Library, again with the unindented paragraphs (see Paperback 1142). How did anyone tolerate this layout? It should've driven any copywriter or book designer crazy.
• "... the unbearable horror [that] can color a man's life, the sheer tragedy of fate's perversity, the macabre attraction of evil"—sounds like Being Alive in 2025!
• "... the futility of striving against a malevolent destiny" is pure noir stuff. The best laid plans go pffft. So much for heroism or any kind of meaningful human agency. Some things are just beyond you. It's Chinatown, as they say.

Page 123~ 

[from "Marihuana"]

    She only had one more dodge left. One more, and then the struggle for life was out of her. "Our song. Wait! I have it here—" She floundered across to a turntable, began shuffling through records with a furtive haste. One dropped, broke; another, a third; she didn't even stop to look at them. 

    She found one, fitted it on, set the needle arm. Then she turned to face him, at last gasp. Already more dead than alive. He had already killed her, all but her body. Life wasn't worth this price, anyway.

Turgid with melodrama, bordering on the comical there at the end, though I really like the bit with the records breaking. Propulsive prose. Vivid.

~RP

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Paperback 1142: Strangler's Serenade / William Irish (Cornell Woolrich)

Paperback 1142: Popular Library 431 (1st ptg, 1952)

Title: Strangler's Serenade

Author: William Irish (pseud. of Cornell Woolrich)

Cover artist: Rudolph Belarski

Condition: 6-7/10

Value: $35

[The Book Den, Santa Barbara CA, Aug. 2025]

Best things about this cover: 

• The lingerie repo man will not be stopped
• She'd probably run faster without the lingerie. That's like 90 pounds of lingerie, what the hell?
• "The Killer Was Crazy—About Women"— yeah, that's ... generally how it works? What part of that is a "twist?" Is this a book about the romantic life of a man who just happens to be a serial killer on the side? "I'm used to chasing victims, but chasing dames, that's a whole other racket, brother, let me tell you!"
• The Killer Was Tired of Running Up Staircases
• Classic "Fear Hand"—love it.
• A midcentury William Irish (Cornell Woolrich) paperback with a dynamic Rudolph Belarski cover!? It's not in the greatest condition, but I'd've bought it in any condition short of falling apart. Its vibe is pure.

Best things about this back cover: 

• The girl was a PHILOSOPHY MAJOR!
• Wow, this back cover story (with its incredibly ugly non-indented paragraphs) feels miles away from whatever was going on on the front cover. The chaser has become the chasee!
• "Champ Prescott," LOL, prep school much?

Page 123~

Though there was agony expressed in the posture, there was also the grace and grandeur of finality. The mouth, as they uncovered it, would never say foolish, child-like things again; it had grown up into death. It was the equal now of the mouths of Aristotle and Spinoza.

Sir, this is a suspense novel. You can take that straining after profundity back to your high school English teacher, mkay? (Woolrich could really turn the prose up to "Purple" when he wanted to)

~RP

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