Rounding out this stack of dusty paperbacks is two editions of The Tattooed Rood by Kyle Onstott with Lance Horner. A novel, as mentioned on all four of the covers seen below, penned by the author of Mandingo and, according to two of said covers, more terrible and more wonderful than it's predecessor. Not to mention shocking, lusty and romantic.
Cover by Stanley Zuckerberg
I suppose all of these things are in the eye of the beholder but I'm willing to take their word for it.
Next up, and next to last in this pile of pulp fiction, is Out Of The Sea by Don Smith. (Technically it's the next to next to last but since the last two books are actually the same book with different covers I'm planning on ganging them together in the next / final post featuring said pile.)
Anywhoo, I haven't read this one so I'm not a hundred percent sure if it's a romance themed novel with a contraband smuggling subplot, or an adventure themed novel with a romantic subplot. (Or, assuming the book was aimed at a male audience, a vaguely sexual subplot.) Either way, like a lot of books featured here over the years, it looks like a good vacation read. Now I just need to figure out a way to swing a nice long vacation so I can read them all.
Continuing our stroll through this stack of thrifted paperbacks, tonight's entry is Uncle Good's Girls by John Faulkner. (Not to be confused with his more famous brother, and the subject of one of his books, William.)
Cover by Barye Phillips
I have to admit I don't know too much about either Faulkner but according to the previously linked Wikipedia page, this is the second in a series of five books penned by the younger sibling that are "prime examples of Southwestern humor, detailing a cast of backwoods people who cannot comprehend the complexities of the 20th century." Which I can only assume means offensive by today's standards.
(Unlike the once saucy but still fetching cover, which is quite tame by today's standards.)
Unlike the past three entries, tonight's subject, The Delicate Prey (and other stories) by Paul Bowles, is a book I've actually read. In fact, the husband and I each had a copy when we merged book collections oh so many years ago.
(Random side note: Mine was left over from a class I took in short story writing during my two semesters at Hofstra University. Out of it's seventeen, the only one we managed to discuss was A Distant Episode.)
So yeah. I suppose we didn't need another copy. But, what can I say. Except I suppose you can add pulp-y paperback editions of things now considered influential literature found at the thrift store to the list of things I have a hard time resisting.