 First published in 1974, Gwen in Green was a rare foray into horror for jack of all trades, Hugh Zachary, who amassed dozens of publishing credits across the sci-fi, crime, mystery, romance, western, war and erotica genres, to name but a few. Working under a plethora of pseudonyms, Zachary was the self-declared “most published, underpaid and most unknown writer in the U.S” who wrote full time for almost thirty years. While his horror novels are few and far between, the fact that ‘Gwen, in Green’ boasts his real name, and not one of his many pen names, on the cover means this is one the man himself considered to be one of his better works. When Gwen’s husband George unexpectedly comes into a large sum of money, the pair decide to invest in some dream real estate on which they intend to build the home they always wanted. A secluded island filled with lush greenery and abundant wildlife on which they can spend the rest of their lives together. The land itself is a steal, heavily reduced due to the ongoing building works across the river where a nuclear power plant is under construction, but the pair are unperturbed and begin work on their new house straight away. There are things about their island getaway that nobody told them before setting roots there. Secrets long forgotten by the passage of time, of mysterious disappearances and murder. As Gwen begins to exhibit increasingly odd behaviour and the local workers turn up missing, it seems increasingly that history is about to repeat itself. What unseen force is causing these changes in Gwen, and can George discover the truth about his newfound home before it is too late? Unlike a lot of Paperbacks From Hell, ‘Gwen, In Green’ delivers exactly what the cover promises. It’s beautiful painted artwork of a woman whose modesty is covered only by a few conveniently placed plants and her long red hair, wears a look of fearful trepidation as she’s surrounded by dark shadows and red (presumably bloody) reflections in the water she is waist deep in. It suggests a lot of sex and horror and, sure enough, that is exactly what we get. Oddly enough, given how much of it there is, the sex is all relatively tame. The characters spend a lot of time having it, but Zachary seems weirdly reluctant to actually go into any details outside of clinical, after the fact statements declaring that the characters ‘got down’ or ‘boogied’, or whatever the appropriate 70s parlance may be. Given the in-story explanation for all this horizontal jiving is so flimsy, you’d think that if he didn’t want to write about it, he’d just leave it out entirely, but if you’re hoping for something more racy, prepare to be disappointed daddio. The horror on the other hand, is a big success, largely because it’s so delightfully odd. The ending comes completely out of left field and has to be read to be believed, but it manages to be endearingly in-keeping with the weirdness that preceded it. There is a section toward the end of the book where George is partaking in a spot of gardening which, in context, was actually quite tense. I audibly gasped when he started, genuinely shocked at what I was reading. The fact that someone gardening was remotely horrific speaks volumes about how peculiar and bizarrely entertaining the book is. It’s not without it’s more typical horrors either. Gwen racks up a pretty impressive body count throughout the book, and her victims tend not to go quickly or quietly. There are two particularly grisly ends met in the final few chapters which show Zachary is far more prudish with the sex than he is when it comes to axe murders. As with a lot of earlier mass market pulp paperbacks of this era, ‘Gwen, In Green’ is not without its more dated depictions of things like racism, homophobia, animal cruelty and, perhaps most noticeably, misogyny. None of these things are major presences (with the exception of the latter, which is fairly constant) but are understandably jarring now to the modern reader. There are far more egregious examples in horror literature of this era and later (I’m looking at you William W Johnstone) but it seems only fair to call it out, as the attitudes of fifty years ago when it comes to race, gender and sexuality have obviously moved on fairly significantly from when this was written. Gwen, In Green, is basically exactly what you want from a Paperback From Hell. It’s infectiously fun and more than a little silly but its hard not to find the whole thing rather endearing. It’s more 70s that tie-dye and bell-bottoms combined and while that may be reflected in some rather dated attitudes on occasion, it’s difficult not to get swept along in the story jam packed with great ideas and absolutely bananas execution. It’ll certainly give you food for thought before you next decide to head out into the garden to do some weeding. Fourteen books in, and I’m now all caught up on the Paperbacks From Hell series. I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading along with me as much as I’ve enjoyed discovering the best forgotten paperbacks from the golden era of horror literature. While that might be all for now, Valencourt are already hard at work selecting more out of print treasures to unleash on us as part of the line, so make sure you visit their site at www.valancourtbooks.com/paperbacksfromhell to keep up to date on the latest releases coming our way. Gwen, in Green (Paperbacks from Hell) |
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