The Blind Side

Edge #44

by George G. Gilman

Edge reckoned it was the damnedest thing he'd ever come across: a fashionably dressed couple driving through the desert in a covered wagon complete with a brass bed and a grandfather clock. But he soon found out that all the mystery was locked up in the distorted mind of Mrs. Rochford, a woman as skilled in the pleasures of the flesh as she is in the more subtle manip¬ulations of her fellow men.
She's a dame with a devious game plan. She's just hired Edge. And his troubles are just starting.

Genres: Westerns

115 pages, Kindle Edition

First published May 1, 1983

About the author

A pseudonym used by Terry Harknett.

Edge (61 books as George G. Gilman)
Adam Steele (49 books as George G. Gilman)
Edge Meets Adam Steele (3 books as George G. Gilman)
The Undertaker (6 books as George G. Gilman)

Reviews

[Chris · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read a bunch of the EDGE Series when I was in junior high/high school, most of which were acquired at either of the two bookstores that once graced the North Riverside Mall in suburban Chicago.

George G. Gilman is a pen name for British author Terry Harknett (born 1936). According to Wikipedia Mr. Harknett has written over 200 novels, at least 10 series, and used 10 additional pen names: Joseph Hedges, William M. James, Charles R. Pike, Thomas H. Stone, Frank Chandler, Jane Harman, Alex Peters, William Pine, William Terry, James Russell, and David Ford.

Apparently Harknett wasn't western sounding enough, but George G. Gilman is. You can hear the twang of cowboy alliteration. Maybe even imagine The Triple G Ranch.

The EDGE Series is violent, sexist, and racist. EDGE himself is referred to by the narrator as "the half-breed." He's half Swedish and half Mexican. Edge has a strong sense of justice and high morals, plus he likes animals and treats them well. I imagine his kindness to animals it what kept me reading back then. But what probably kept me coming back for more, as a tween/early teen was, I'm certain, the sex. The Blind Side includes a gang rape by four cowpokes of a nymphomaniac who likes to dominate men, so you get the sense that she would have liked it if 1) she'd been in charge of the situation and 2) they hadn't beaten her. Spoiler alert: she gets her revenge but dies in the end (as such women must).

The violence, sexism, racism, and rape are all horrific, but what surprised me is how bad the writing is! Here's an example:

"Likewise, the almost doll-like perfection of her oval shaped face with its blue eyes, snub nose, rosebud lips and milk white, flawless skin--in a frame of rich-growing, smoothly waved, honey-colored hair that swung to within a half inch of brushing her shoulders--had an undeniable sensuality that had to be lurking covertly just beneath the veneer of girlish innocence that was the first impression implied by her face" (12-13).

Or this scene where the nymphomaniac presents her naked body to Edge beside the campfire. He says to her:

"If that's the case, best you cover yourself up and go back to bed. On account of I've seen women got bigger nipples than you've got tits. And as for that beaver, I figure a mouse--" (44).

It's pulp fiction and Mr. Harknett nails it, so I'm not making fun of his writing, rather just pointing out the style. Obviously, someone who has published over 200 novels knows his audience. However, there were a ton of incomplete sentences and typos, too. It makes me wonder if there was any editing at all.

This book came out in 1983 and by then I was experiencing some action of my own (wink, wink), so I had probably moved on from the series by then. This trip down memory lane was interesting, but, like many things from the past, some things are left better remembered than revisited. That said, I probably couldn't resist picking up another number in this series if I come across it.

Review from my blog: http://wildmoobooks.blogspot.com/2016...

[Nathaniel · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is an old western from back when westerns were politically incorrect stories that had no problem condescending to women and minorities, and in which the tough lone-wolf white guy antihero is invariably given some air of moral superiority despite being thoroughly amoral, which he usually reveals with a trite wisecrack after something particularly brutal has happened in the story (especially if it involves the chief antagonist, a dadgum uppity city woman, "getting hers"). It reflects a very dated concept of society that is nonetheless fascinating in its ridiculously black and white moral crudity. With that said, it's an appalling book, though oddly enough I don't feel as though reading it was a waste of time. These old pulp novels from the 80's are increasingly rare - not even most public libraries have them anymore - and very few copies will still exist a decade or two from now. It was interesting to get a view of that time capsule before they're lost forever, but it's also a reminder of a stagnant and much less enlightened time that I'm regularly grateful I no longer have to live in.