"Illustrated with photographs from the RKO Radio film," 1946 (2nd printing). The movie title was familiar, but this was my first encounter with Ethel Lena White, a popular and prolific British crime fiction writer of the 1930s and '40s.
The title citation—
"For some must watch, while some must sleep:The story was contemporary when published (1933), but its setting is a Victorian mansion looming over a lonely, forbidding bit of Welsh countryside. The spooky old house is inhabited by members of the wealthy Warren family; the action takes place during a storm of epic proportions, with a serial murderer loose somewhere in the vicinity.
So runs the world away."
HAMLET
The Warrens and their staff lend the story varied personalities and British class distinctions. Among the employees is Helen, a young woman whose deceased parents were poor, but of good breeding. Details are left vague, but because of Helen's background, the Warrens grant her special considerations (her bedroom is upstairs, and she's allowed to dine with the family). Pure of heart and eager to earn her living, Helen finds herself surrounded by unpleasant characters, all of them waiting for the family's frightening matriarch to die. Helen's place at the dinner table and freedom to move about the house give her plenty of opportunities to observe the Warrens. Her optimism and Christianity are pitted against what the author portrays as a fashionable 1930s nihilism that's held by such over-educated types as the Warrens.
Not to fear: the fast-paced Hollywood movie version offers no introspection or ideology—or, no ideology beyond the usual "endangered helpless woman in need of rescue" theme.
The movie's setting is New England at the beginning of the 20th century—the better to make use of spooky old house, gaslight, and candle effects.
Here, Helen is often cheery, though not chatty as in the novel—the movie Helen is mute. Which makes her particularly vulnerable: in this version, the murderer kills young women who have some kind of "affliction."
Another Hollywood change was to turn the novel's scary matriarch into a role for the beloved Ethel Barrymore.
There's more Americanization of characters—
Another interesting discrepancy: photos are publicity stills, some quite different from scenes in the movie. Illustrations are full page stills, with this montage on the endpapers—
I had never seen the movie, so finding this volume motivated me to watch a library DVD. The film has its moments, with a good cast and Dorothy McGuire impressive in a silent role. I also found the novel an interesting period piece. After sampling both, the "Motion Picture Edition" seems a little jarring, as the RKO stills supposedly illustrate a novel set decades later and populated by specifically British characters. But reprinting a novel and linking it with a successful film was a sales gimmick.
Some history of movie tie-in books.
According to Photoplay Edition (1975), by Emil Petaja, the first movie serial, "What Happened to Mary?" was released by Edison in 1912. After Selig's "Adventures of Kathlyn" appeared the next year, it was followed by a photoplay edition. Once established, the format caught on. Petaja notes that a photoplay edition could offer the public a more connected version of weekly filmed episodes produced from hastily written scripts. The book format also appears to have been part of heavy publicity given to serials.
By 1914, photoplay editions of feature films appeared. Since features were likely to have narratives more coherent than those of serials, writers could turn them into early "novelizations" (a term which came into use at this time). If a successful feature was based on a novel that was already popular, then illustrations could be added for the novel's reprint as a movie tie-in.
Some photoplay editions of early features were lavishly illustrated, with as many as thirty to fifty photos. Often, says Petaja, early books "boasted better photographic reproduction than did later ones; some remind you of the great Civil War pictures made from glass negatives."
By the mid-1930s the publications had nearly disappeared. Petaja quotes a silent era marketing slogan, "Read the book, then see the movie." He suggests that sound made these books superfluous, once "the movies spoke for themselves." Radio, too, had its impact, quickly becoming the cheapest, most available source of popular entertainment. Although photoplay publishers issued deluxe editions of such titles as "Gone With the Wind" and "Rebecca," those already had been blockbusters, in both novel and movie form.
Then, says Petaja—
... it was World Publishing Company's Forum Motion Picture Editions that revived the concept of the photoplay edition during the 1940s, for a time at least. They were nicely set-up, with attractive dust jackets, with montages on the end pages, and several glossy bled-off stills inside, printed back to back.Twenty or more titles appeared, the largest number since the heyday of the 'teens and 'twenties. They were printed, however, on wartime paper of poor quality. Judging from the deterioration of my copy, paper quality doesn't seem to have changed by '46.
The remaining stills, in order of the movie's action—
(This, I think, is the only one that looks identical to a final scene. I especially like how visible the painted background is here)—
