Иллюстрации из зарубежных книг и журналов
Зарубежные книги и журналы иногда имели хорошие иллюстрации, игнорировать их глупость большая. Этой публикацией я открываю серию материалов, в которых будут продемонстрированы соответствующие иллюстрации... При подборе я отдавал предпочтение старым изданиям - 50-х, 60 и 70-х годов... Современная иллюстрация совершенно безликая и ничем не интересная. Просто шаблонные комиксы. + Щелкайте по картинкам, чтобы увеличить!
Death’s Eyw View
By John D. MacDonald
When Jubal Tabor took to murder, he just meant it as an old man's hobby. But to his favorite corpse it was strictly business!
The dawn sky was silver grey, and he swam through the mist that drifted in patches over the warm water of the Atlantic. He had gotten the direction from the stars, but now they had faded. On the crest of the next swell he thrust himself upward, peering toward the coast, but he could see nothing. It was good that the water was so warm. Even so, he could sense the cramp that threatened his right calf. The girl was swimming ahead of him and to his right. He changed from slow crawl to sidestroke, both to rest his leg and to watch her more carefully. In the beginning her stroke had been crisp, but now he saw that she floundered a bit, her hands slapping limply into the water. It was in the lurid light of the burning cabin cruiser, an hour before, that he had helped her out...
She opened her purse, took out a small packet, dumped a white powder into one of the glasses.
Tune in on Station Homicide
By Peter Reed
The swimming pool, under the moon, was like black ink in a white stone tray. Beyond the fringe of trees, blatant and gaudy, were the lights of Los Angeles, that painted lady of the Pacific.
Up on the night hill, by the pool, it was a time of silence, of quiet voices and blessed peace. Jimmy Hake, that round and comical man of radio, that owl-faced, elfin, blundering character, in whom every man saw his own image, reclined on the wheeled redwood couch and watched the way the faint light from the windows of the house made mysterious the face of his beloved.
Jimmy Hake needed all of his talent to keep his voice and manner relaxed. Murder makes the breath short, the palms sweat, the voice tremble, the neck rigid. Murder is something that is two years а-growing. Murder is the answer to a question that couldn’t otherwise be answered.
It was Sunday night. Tomorrow rehearsal, then the program itself at eight.
Jimmy Hake, proudly presented by the makers of Shaynaline products, the cosmetics that bring out your natural beauty.
Go to your nearest drugstore....
Three people by the pool that belonged to Jimmy Hake.
Jimmy, Bob Morrit, his best writer and Anna, wife of Bob. In the early part of the evening they had gone over the script for the last time. In the morning Bob would get the right number of copies made and then, at rehearsal, last minute changes would be made in all copies.
Bob Morrit was saying: “...and now we’ve got the thing pinned down strong enough so we can stay right in the same groove. Character established. Type of incident. Just switch the cast around from time to time.”
Jimmy knew that Bob had been largely responsible for the program pattern that had made him a success. Sure, Bob was clever, but what did he know about how to make a million bucks the hard way ? That start, thirty years ago, eighteen years old and already a baggy pants specialist in the burlesque circuit. Coffee money for years and years. Small clubs. Rough. Rough all the way.
Then one day you hit the top and what have you got? Weariness that feels like you have putty instead of marrow in your bones. High blood pressure. Shortness of breath. Dyspnea, to be exact. Technically you are forty-eight, but you feel seventy-eight.
Oh, that jolly, jolly Jimmy Hake! That comic fellow!
You have everything except the one thing in the world that you want. Anna.
Funny, sort of. There were always lots of women. Eager to help you spend the bankroll. Laughing women. Tender women. Bitter women.
Not one like Anna.
He watched her. He had watehed her for three years. A deep, strong, calm, incredibly beautiful woman. Safe harbor for the rest of his years. Straight and true. And loyal to Bob Morrit. Married to Bob Morrit. All bound up in Bob Morrit. And time for Jimmy Hake only as a friend. A good friend.
When Jimmy Hake remembered the times he had tried to tell her how he felt about her, he flushed. She had handled him so easily. “Please, Jimmy.”
Just that. A tone of voice. The tone of voice said two things. It said, “If you persist, I will go away" It also said, “ You...
Jimmy Hake was tops as a radio comedian—and this last night, though it never showed on his Hooper rating, his show was the most killing of all! "You fat little fake! What about Anna...
Susceptibility
"I regret we cannot grant a wish so beyond the realm of credibility" came the answer. "It's againdt union regulations. I can offer you a substitute"
Михаил Дмитриенко, специально для PRETICH.ru
2021 год
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