In Graphic Detail

Vintage

24 Feb

A very many years ago, while shopping with a friend on Grand Final Day (Australia’s equivalent of the Superbowl), I pounced gleefully on a stack of picture romances in a vintage store. Since the streets were empty and Rapunzel and I were the only ones left alive in the world after the football-toting zombies attacked, I didn’t have to fight anyone off for ownership. (Zombies don’t read much.)

I constrained myself to only four however ($10 worth) – that was really enough to fully appreciate this new-found genre of the ‘All-Picture Novel’. I rediscovered them the other night on a (shockingly dusty) shelf at the very top of my bookcase.

While I was scanning the first few spreads of For You, My Love, I entertained myself by reading a little of Queen of the Pops. I was very soon shouting with outraged laughter – what a lot of sexist moralising! As disquieting as watching Mad Men for the first time.

Here’s a couple of samples:

“You can make yourself Britain’s Number One girl vocalist. Doesn’t that mean more than romance?”

“Corny, you’re hopeless. To a girl there are much more important things than money and success.”

My, how times have changed. And:

His words brought a rush of blood to Merry’s cheeks. “From now on consider me your number one fan.” Then suddenly, impulsively, he took her in her arms and kissed her. “I – er – couldn’t help myself.”

I have no words. Just pictures. Scroll down. (Click on images for larger versions.)