Pulp Quotes

Quotes tagged as "pulp" (showing 1-30 of 30)
China Miéville
“Dismissing fantasy writing because some of it is bad is exactly like saying I'm not reading Jane Eyre because it is a romance and I know romance is crap.”
China Miéville

Charles Bukowski
“Sometimes things are just what they seem to be and that's all there is to it.”
Charles Bukowski

Michael Moorcock
“We must be bound to one another then," Elric murmured despairingly. "Bound by hell-forged chains and fate-haunted circumstance. Well, then—let it be thus so—and men will have cause to tremble and flee when they hear the names of Elric of Melinbone and Stormbringer, his sword. We are two of a kind—produced by an age which has deserted us. Let us give this age cause to hate us!”
Michael Moorcock, Elric: The Stealer of Souls

David Goodis
“He told himself she wasn’t really such a bad person, she was just a pest, she was sticky, there was something misplaced in her make-up, something that kept her from fading clear of people when they wanted to be in the clear.”
David Goodis, Dark Passage

Robert E. Howard
“It was no ape, neither was it a man. It was some shambling horror spawned in the mysterious, nameless jungles of the south, where strange life teemed in the reeking rot without the dominance of man, and drums thundered in temples that had never known the tread of a human foot.”
Robert E. Howard

Vladimir Nabokov
“She is a great gobbler of books, but reads only trash, memorizing nothing and leaving out the longer descriptions.”
Vladimir Nabokov, Despair

John Gardner
“The instruction here is not for every kind of writer - not for the writer of nurse books or thrillers or porno or the cheaper sort of sci-fi - though it is true that what holds for the most serious kind of fiction will generally hold for junk fiction as well. (Not everyone is capable of writing junk fiction: It requires an authentic junk mind. Most creative-writing teachers have had the experience of occasionally helping to produce, by accident, a pornographer. The most elegant techniques in the world, filtered through a junk mind, become elegant junk techniques.)”
John Gardner, The Art of Fiction: Notes on Craft for Young Writers

Cornell Woolrich
“The preliminaries were out of the way, the creative process was about to begin. The creative process, that mystic life force, that splurge out of which has come the Venus de Milo, the Mona Lisa, the Fantasie Impromptu, the Bayeux tapestries, Romeo and Juliet, the windows of Chartres Cathedral, Paradise Lost - and a pulp murder story by Dan Moody. The process is the same in all; if the results are a little uneven, that doesn't invalidate the basic similarity of origin.”
Cornell Woolrich

Jarvis Cocker
“And as I touch your shoulder tonight this room has become the centre of the entire universe.”
Jarvis Cocker

“If these yarns were trash - and millions of parents must have regarded them as such - then they were the best of all kinds of trash. They were trash for connoisseurs of trash. Trash for people who understood just how good trash could really be.”
Don Hutchison, The Great Pulp Heroes
tags: pulp

Cornell Woolrich
“That was enough dialogue for a few pages - he had to get into some fast, red-hot action.

There weren't any more hitches now. The story flowed like a torrent. The margin bell chimed almost staccato, the roller turned with almost piston-like continuity, the pages sprang up almost like blobs of batter from a pancake skillet. The beer kept rising in the glass and, contradictorily, steadily falling lower. The cigarettes gave up their ghosts, long thin gray ghosts, in a good cause; the mortality rate was terrible.

His train of thought, the story's lifeline, beer-lubricated but no whit impeded, flashed and sputtered and coursed ahead like lightning in a topaz mist, and the loose fingers and hiccuping keys followed as fast as they could. ("The Penny-A-Worder")”
Cornell Woolrich

J.G. Ballard
“Kandinski looked up. 'Do you read science fiction?' he asked matter-of-factly.

'Not as a rule,' Ward admitted. When Kandinski said nothing he went on: 'Perhaps I’m too skeptical, but I can’t take it too seriously.'

Kandinski pulled at a blister on his palm. 'No one suggests you should. What you mean is that you take it too seriously.'

Accepting the rebuke with a smile at himself, Ward pulled out one of the magazines and sat down at a table next to Kandinski. On the cover was a placid suburban setting of snugly eaved houses, yew trees, and children’s bicycles. Spreading slowly across the roof-tops was an enormous pulpy nightmare, blocking out the sun behind it and throwing a weird phosphorescent glow over the roofs and lawns. 'You’re probably right,' Ward said, showing the cover to Kandinski. 'I’d hate to want to take that seriously.'

("The Venus Hunters")”
J.G. Ballard

Cornell Woolrich
“He handed me something done up in paper. 'Your mask,' he said. 'Don't put it on until we get past the city-limits.'

It was a frightening-looking thing when I did so. It was not a mask but a hood for the entire head, canvas and cardboard, chalk-white to simulate a skull, with deep black hollows for the eyes and grinning teeth for the mouth.

The private highway, as we neared the house, was lined on both sides with parked cars. I counted fifteen of them as we bashed by; and there must have been as many more ahead, in the other direction.

We drew up and he and I got out. I glanced in cautiously over my shoulder at the driver as we went by, to see if I could see his face, but he too had donned one of the death-masks.

'Never do that,' the Messenger warned me in a low voice. 'Never try to penetrate any other member's disguise.'

The house was as silent and lifeless as the last time - on the outside. Within it was a horrid, crawling charnel-house alive with skull-headed figures, their bodies encased in business-suits, tuxedos, and evening dresses. The lights were all dyed a ghastly green or ghostly blue, by means of colored tissue-paper sheathed around them. A group of masked musicians kept playing the Funeral March over and over, with brief pauses in between. A coffin stood in the center of the main living-room.

I was drenched with sweat under my own mask and sick almost to death, even this early in the game.

At last the Book-keeper, unmasked, appeared in their midst.

Behind him came the Messenger. The dead-head guests all applauded enthusiastically and gathered around them in a ring.

Those in other rooms came in. The musicians stopped the Death Match. The Book-keeper bowed, smiled graciously. 'Good evening, fellow corpses,' was his chill greeting. 'We are gathered together to witness the induction of our newest member.' There was an electric tension. 'Brother Bud!' His voice rang out like a clarion in the silence. 'Step forward.' ("Graves For Living")”
Cornell Woolrich

Cornell Woolrich
“The cemetery watchman left the room and returned with a tray holding three small skulls and a large one. I could feel the short hairs on the back of my neck standing up of their own accord. None of them were real though; they were wood or celluloid imitations. They all had flaps that opened at the top; one was a jug and the other three steins.

The man behind the desk named the toast. 'To our Friend!' I thought he meant myself at first; he meant that shadowy enemy of all mankind, the Grim Reaper.

'We are called The Friends of Death,' he explained to me when the grisly containers had been emptied. 'To outline our creed and purpose briefly, it is this: That death is life, and life is death. We have mastered death, and no member of the Friends of Death need ever fear it. They 'die,' it is true, but after death they are buried in special graves in our private cemetery - graves having air vents, such as you discovered. Also, our graves are equipped with electric signals, so that after the bodies of our buried members begin to respond to the secret treatment our scientists have given them before internment, we are warned. Then we come and release them - and they live again. Moreover, they are released, freed of their thralldom; from then on death is an old familiar friend instead of an enemy. They no longer fear it. Do you not see what a wonderful boon this would be in your case, Brother Bud; you who have suffered so from that fear?' ("Graves For The Living")”
Cornell Woolrich

C.J. Fella
“Normally, I don't take to drinking so early in the morning, but I bend the rules when I get my ass kicked before sunrise."--Thomas Morelli”
C.J. Fella, Rise of the Black Hand: The Case Files of Thomas Morelli

Lavie Tidhar
“And also they’re just good escapist fun," Vivian said firmly, and Gill subsided beside her, giving an apologetic smile. "To read about these horrible things and know they never happened, and when you’re finished you can put down the book and take a deep breath and get on with your life. To know it’s fiction – "
"Pulp fiction," Gill said ...”
Lavie Tidhar, Osama
tags: pulp

Charles Bukowski
“-What kind of d*ck are you? Celine asked.
-The best in L.A.
-Yes? What's L.A. stand for?
-Lost as*holes.”
Charles Bukowski, Pulp

D.A. Madigan
“Pulp is almost zen, very nearly pure stream of unconsciousness. Here´s a good guy. There´s a bad guy. They hit each other. Oh, the bad guy is unmasked and it´s the greedy banker who was trying to foreclose on the old Beesby place! Wow. Next story, please.”
D.A. Madigan
tags: pulp

Lavie Tidhar
“Life isn't a pulp novel, Joe, and death isn't either.”
Lavie Tidhar, Osama
tags: pulp

Callie Press
“Never believe everything you read; all writers are liars, it’s what we do.”
Callie Press, Queen Kegel and the Arena Planet: A Smutpunk Epic

Charles Bukowski
“Casi siempre lo mejor de la vida consistía en no hacer nada en absoluto, en pasar el rato reflexionando, rumiando sobre ello. Quiero decir que pongamos que uno comprende que todo es absurdo, entones no puede ser tan absurdo porque uno es consciente de que es absurdo y la conciencia de ellos es lo que le otorga sentido. ¿Me entienden? Es un pesimismo optimista.”
Charles Bukowski

Francis M. Nevins Jr.
“In Woolrich's crime fiction there is a gradual development from pulp to noir. The earlier a story, the more likely it stresses pulp elements: one-dimensional macho protagonists, preposterous methods of murder, hordes of cardboard gangsters, dialogue full of whiny insults, blistering fast action. But even in some of his earliest crime stories one finds aspects of noir, and over time the stream works itself pure.

In mature Woolrich the world is an incomprehensible place where beams happen to fall, and are predestined to fall, and are toppled over by malevolent powers; a world ruled by chance, fate and God the malign thug. But the everyday life he portrays is just as terrifying and treacherous. The dominant economic reality is the Depression, which for Woolrich usually means a frightened little guy in a rundown apartment with a hungry wife and children, no money, no job, and desperation eating him like a cancer. The dominant political reality is a police force made up of a few decent cops and a horde of sociopaths licensed to torture and kill, whose outrages are casually accepted by all concerned, not least by the victims. The prevailing emotional states are loneliness and fear. Events take place in darkness, menace breathes out of every corner of the night, the bleak cityscape comes alive on the page and in our hearts.

("Introduction")”
Francis M. Nevins Jr., Night and Fear: A Centenary Collection of Stories

Ana Nieto Morillo
“Duna avanzó en silencio entre los turistas, procurando no apartar la vista del suelo. No estaba acostumbrada a caminar descalza, pero era un requisito ineludible para acceder al Templo Karni Mata. Éste era famoso por sus habitantes, a los cuáles se veneraba y alimentaba desde hacía más de seiscientos años: las ratas.”
Ana Nieto Morillo, Ánima Barda (Ed. Impresa)

Karl Ove Knausgård
“There's no difference between pulp fiction and highbrow fiction, one is as good as the other, the only difference is the aura they have, and that's determined by the people who read the stuff, not by the book itself. There's no such thing as 'the book itself.”
Karl Ove Knausgård, Min kamp 5

Charles Bukowski
“-Look, barkeeper, I'm a peaceful man. Fairly normal. I don't sniff armpits or wear ladies' underwear. But everywhere I go, somebody is pushing shots at me, they give me no rest. Why is this?
-I think you got it comin' somehow.
-Well, Eddie, you stop thinking and see if you can fix me a double vodka and tonic, touch of lime.
-We don't got no lime.
-Yeah, you have. I can see it from here.
-That lime's not for you
-Yeah? Who's it for? Elizabeth Taylor? Now, if you want to sleep in your own bed tonight, I'll have that lime. In my drink. Pronto.”
Charles Bukowski, Pulp
tags: pulp

Tony Arnold
“I know what it's like to be a under-valued, despised fat-ass in a uniform that frequents the used sex toy trailer way too regular. And nobody appreciates more than me the way ya'll protect the weak and innocent from minorities. But every time ya'll pull over some poor slob gratuitously, just fishing for some gotcha to fine 'em with, you disgrace the noble acts ya'll have to do like rescuing maidens from railroad tracks and pulling burning babies out of trailer fires. You cheapen the great things ya'll do with the low-rent, scum-sucking dirtbag shit you do by way of economic predation.”
Tony Arnold, Codename: White Devil

Tony Arnold
“Well, like, I've always thought somebody ought to write a novel in blank verse that starts out when the angels come inside the daughters of men and they bear the children which were giants in them days, which the flood wiped 'em all out, but their spirits become demons and have to follow Satan around for the rest of eternity. And them spirits still like to have sex, so when they infect nonbelievers or pigs, or what-have-you, that copulatin' urge is still inside of 'em, and so there's generally just a whole lot of ruttin' going on everywheres. And then one day there's a private detective who discovers a hidden tomb underneath a trailer park where his Mama still lives and there's a ancient codex that turns out to be a book that them sex-giants wrote about the coming Hypocalypse. Something like that's what I like to read.”
Tony Arnold, Tales from the Horny Panda

Tony Arnold
“Well, like, I've always thought somebody ought to write a novel in blank verse that starts out when the angels come inside the daughters of men and they bear the children which were giants in them days, which the flood wiped 'em all out, but their spirits become demons and have to follow Satan around for the rest of eternity. And them spirits still like to have sex, so when they infect nonbelievers or pigs, or what-have-you, that copulatin' urge is still inside of 'em, and so there's generally just a whole lot of ruttin' going on everywheres. And then one day there's a private detective who discovers a hidden tomb underneath a trailer park where his Mama still lives and there's a ancient codex that turns out to be a book that them sex-giants wrote about. the coming Hypocalypse. Something like that's what I like to read.”
Tony Arnold, Tales from the Horny Panda

Tony Arnold
“She told me to answer yes or no, and to quit wasting her time. I told her I'd place it under my consideration, and would get back to her just as soon as humanly possible. That's when I made the mistake of mentioning my ex-girlfriend. I almost always gag whenever I talk about my ex. Sometimes that gagging leads to puking. Women don't like it when a man pukes on them. That's one thing I have learned about women.”
Tony Arnold, Wigglers

“There is real hope for a culture that makes it as easy to buy a book as it does a pack of cigarettes."--a civic leader quoted in a New American Library ad (1951) American Pulp tells the story of the midcentury golden age of pulp paperbacks and how they brought modernism to Main Street, democratized literature and ideas, spurred social mobility, and helped readers fashion new identities.”
Paula Rabinowitz
tags: pulp