I just came across a story by Garen Drussai that is not included in any of the usual on-line bibliographies. It’s called “Sugar Puss.” I haven’t figured out the date of publication yet.
I found “Sugar Puss” in Sir! Droll Stories, a 1967 collection of tales that ran in the magazine Sir! During its first twenty-five years. Sir! Belongs to a class of magazines that was important to me for reconstructing the history of Bigfoot, a genre known as men’s adventure magazines. Unlike the sci-fi and mystery pulps, these have not attracted many collectors—they’re largely considered embarrassing—and so I have not yet found any bibliographies.
There are a few enthusiasts, however, and these offer some clue. Bill Devine put together a great checklist of magazines in 1997; it was printed in Adam Parfrey’s 2003 It’s a Man’s World. According to Devine, Sir! Was put out by Volitant publishing. In the 1950s, it was a true adventure magazine, in the mold of Argosy or Blue Book—and so like the pulps, but bigger, glossier. In 1963 it switched to a pin-up format, and it is clear that Drussai’s story came from this era: so between 1963 and 1967.
The tale is about Vic, an office worker who likes to play at being Casanova, constantly propositioning his secretary, who he calls “Sugar Puss.” He is married to Evelyn, an unattractive, overweight homemaker. (More than any of her science fiction stories, this one trades in traditional gender stereotypes.) Vic and Evelyn enjoy an active sex life—whenever he comes home and calls her “Sugar Puss,” Evelyn knows that they will make love that night. (But only after dinner.)
It turns out that Vic keeps his sex life active by always imagining Evelyn as someone different—sometimes as his secretary, sometimes as a starlet—and acts out a little drama that Evelyn is unaware of: although she does find the constant variety in their lovemaking exciting. Sometimes Vic is strong, sometimes romantic, sometimes quiet, sometimes loud.
There is not much to the story. I suppose it is supposed to be scandalous, but in today’s terms it is laughable. Drussai, though, gives it a little twist at the end—not enough to redeem the story, but enough to show it’s genealogy. The story is not Fortean nor, strictly speaking, is it science fiction, but it’s structure is resembles the stories that appeared in F&SF.
Vic’s secretary finally takes him seriously, and for the first time ever he sets out to cheat on his wife. He meets the secretary, calls her “Sugar Puss”—and then cannot stop imagining her as . . . Evelyn! Fat, unattractive Evelyn. He busts out of the room and returns home, determined to never cheat again, except in his own mind.
There are other influences one might guess at in a story like this. Delving into the imagination of a man during sex recalls the Kinsey Report from 1948. One might also see the story as a traditional confessional story, with the genders reversed: Vic Rebels, is Ruined, and Redeeemed. The story also hints at—though does not explore—the effect of imagination on relationships, which I get the feeling was starting to be of concern to mainstream writers about this time. (Think of John Updike).
At any rate, it’s a little more information about Garen Drussai.
I found “Sugar Puss” in Sir! Droll Stories, a 1967 collection of tales that ran in the magazine Sir! During its first twenty-five years. Sir! Belongs to a class of magazines that was important to me for reconstructing the history of Bigfoot, a genre known as men’s adventure magazines. Unlike the sci-fi and mystery pulps, these have not attracted many collectors—they’re largely considered embarrassing—and so I have not yet found any bibliographies.
There are a few enthusiasts, however, and these offer some clue. Bill Devine put together a great checklist of magazines in 1997; it was printed in Adam Parfrey’s 2003 It’s a Man’s World. According to Devine, Sir! Was put out by Volitant publishing. In the 1950s, it was a true adventure magazine, in the mold of Argosy or Blue Book—and so like the pulps, but bigger, glossier. In 1963 it switched to a pin-up format, and it is clear that Drussai’s story came from this era: so between 1963 and 1967.
The tale is about Vic, an office worker who likes to play at being Casanova, constantly propositioning his secretary, who he calls “Sugar Puss.” He is married to Evelyn, an unattractive, overweight homemaker. (More than any of her science fiction stories, this one trades in traditional gender stereotypes.) Vic and Evelyn enjoy an active sex life—whenever he comes home and calls her “Sugar Puss,” Evelyn knows that they will make love that night. (But only after dinner.)
It turns out that Vic keeps his sex life active by always imagining Evelyn as someone different—sometimes as his secretary, sometimes as a starlet—and acts out a little drama that Evelyn is unaware of: although she does find the constant variety in their lovemaking exciting. Sometimes Vic is strong, sometimes romantic, sometimes quiet, sometimes loud.
There is not much to the story. I suppose it is supposed to be scandalous, but in today’s terms it is laughable. Drussai, though, gives it a little twist at the end—not enough to redeem the story, but enough to show it’s genealogy. The story is not Fortean nor, strictly speaking, is it science fiction, but it’s structure is resembles the stories that appeared in F&SF.
Vic’s secretary finally takes him seriously, and for the first time ever he sets out to cheat on his wife. He meets the secretary, calls her “Sugar Puss”—and then cannot stop imagining her as . . . Evelyn! Fat, unattractive Evelyn. He busts out of the room and returns home, determined to never cheat again, except in his own mind.
There are other influences one might guess at in a story like this. Delving into the imagination of a man during sex recalls the Kinsey Report from 1948. One might also see the story as a traditional confessional story, with the genders reversed: Vic Rebels, is Ruined, and Redeeemed. The story also hints at—though does not explore—the effect of imagination on relationships, which I get the feeling was starting to be of concern to mainstream writers about this time. (Think of John Updike).
At any rate, it’s a little more information about Garen Drussai.