A Hammer horror collectable, and remembering Anton Diffring's final performance

The Man Who Could Cheat Death, John Sansom, Ace Books, 1959

"What happens when he cannot obtain the necessary gland in time ends in a shocking climax of horror and bestiality."

Blimey.

I've not seen Hammer's The Man Who Cheated Death, but it looks like a cracker (though I assume the film is not as hilariously out of sync as this trailer):

Up this week is a copy of the tie-in novelisation, which is in pretty good nick, with cover art adapted from — it actually looks like it's been repainted, rather than just lifted — the UK quad poster for the film:

It would appear to be a fairly rare book, with just one copy currently on ABE, at £28, and the odd copy turning up on eBay now and again. I'd imagine it's of appeal to Hammer collectors only these days, and to be fair even they do not revere it as a lost classic. (The film many Hammer fans do regard as the best of the studio's vast output is The Brides of Dracula, which does not even star the iconic Christopher Lee. Interestingly, Bond fans have long held On Her Majesty's Secret Service to be the best of the series, even though it features a far from iconic Australian ex chocolate carrier as 007. This is an example of something, I expect.)

The titular death-cheater is played by Anton Diffring, who worked a few times for Hammer, including in this busted TV pilot for a series to be called Tales of Frankenstein, but he's best remembered for playing Nazi officers in countless films — this one being probably the best loved ("Broadsword calling Danny Boy" etc).

Diffring's final role was playing an old Nazi (natch) in the 1988 Sylvester McCoy Doctor Who adventure 'Silver Nemesis'. The story, which mixed neo-Nazis with Cybermen, dark Time Lord secrets and, um, jazz saxophonist Courtney Pine, was a lot of fun, but utterly incomprehensible, and has latterly become known amongst Whovians as 'Silly Nemesis'.

Diffring reportedly had no idea what was going on in the plot, or what his character was supposed to be trying to do (but then, frankly, neither did the scriptwriter). Apparently he only took the role because it would bring him to the UK from his home on the continent just in time for Wimbledon, which he then proceeded to watch on the telly any spare moment he got. Bless.

One Down...

That copy of To the Devil – A Daughter (to give it its correct title, though note that the Hammer film is To the Devil... A Daughter; the dots make it more suspenseful I suppose) has become the Accidental Bookshop's first sale. A bargain at 99p, but then Dennis Wheatley is not the household name, popular bestseller he once was, and those serious collectors of his work that remain presumably only want books in tippedy-top condition — and this copy, to be fair, was not. 

It's possible however that the buyer was one of what I can only imagine is an even smaller group: collectors of the artist responsible for the cover (a design described, correctly, by one dealer on ABE as 'frothing insane').

The artist was Frank C. Papé, who also designed Wheatley's personal bookplate (as seen in my previous post). According to this biography he was born in 1878, which would put him in his mid-seventies when he painted this cover, which is pretty good going. He lived to the grand old age of 92 mind! His Wikipedia entry didn't mention the To the Devil cover art, so I've added that in. Glad to be of service, Frank.

The First Post...

So, the summary above says it all, really. Too many books, so it's time to sell some. One day I'd like to be able to sell old books as a business, with a little shop and everything (as someone I admire once said, 'I love a little shop'), but for now, it'll be me choosing a title or so a week, writing about them here, and listing them on eBay. Look for the link to my current auctions on eBay... If you are from the future, and the listing has come and gone, email me. If the book is still available, I'll be happy to sell it to you!

I'm going to start off with a bit of a 'soft launch', and work out how to use this Blogger thing before I start inviting too many people to come and have a read, but this first book is not without interest: a first edition of Dennis Wheatley's To The Devil A Daughter, complete with an unclipped (and bonkers) dustjacket. It's in reasonable nick for its age, and I've given it a 99p opening price on eBay, which ain't bad considering some chancers on ABEbooks want several hundred dollars for a 'fine' copy...

This isn't a copy from Wheatley's own library (I'd be asking a tad more than 99p if it were...) but books which did come from that source, as these posts on the excellent Bookride blog explain, have a fantastic bookplate.

Imagine pasting that into the front of every book you own!

I'll admit to not having read To The Devil A Daughter, but I have seen Hammer's 1976 film adaptation, featuring a young Nastassja Kinski, and Christopher Lee giving a masterfully understated performance which must rank as one of his creepiest.