Book Synopsis
Tales From the Deep South Pacific Room
A Sweat-Pulp Sampler from the Whisanant Mythos
By Tony Arnold
Before Doyce Whisanant became the Book Bastard, he was cranking out lurid pulp under a fistful of pseudonyms — cheap, fast, and unrepentant. This collection finally rescues that raw early work from decades of out-of-print obscurity and pours it into one bamboo-lined highball glass.
Eighteen stories. Zero apologies. Freebooters chasing fortune down the Rio Pequeño. Dick Turgid, Rogue Copulator, doing whatever it is a man with that name does. Tiki gods singing over a smoke-filled lounge in Song of the Singing Tikis. Voodoo, jungle intrigue, hard liquor, harder women, and prose that swaggers first and apologizes never.
This is mid-century men's-adventure pulp at its purest and most politically incorrect — the genre before it got sanded down, served exactly as sweaty and shameless as the day it was typed. Fans of Harry Stephen Keeler's gloriously undisciplined plotting and the "chuckles over craft" spirit of the old sweat mags will feel right at home at the bar.
Not for children. Absolutely for grown-ups who miss when pulp had teeth.
Pull up a stool at the Deep South Pacific Room. The Dr. Fong's on the house.