Life, 1916-10-26 · page 14 of 46
Life — October 26, 1916 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Life* magazine features "The Serial"—a poem celebrating serialized fiction in publications. The left column contains verse praising dramatic serial narratives that keep readers in suspense between installments ("You simply won't know how to wait / Until the next installment"). The right side contains four product advertisements styled as Art Deco illustrations, appearing to parody serialized drama through commercialism: - **Black & Orange Wells Pickles** - **Bunk's Elixir** (hair product) - **Ayre's Soap** (with competing brands mentioned in accompanying text) - **Pink Pills** (ladies' product) The satire juxtaposes the magazine's celebration of gripping fiction with frivolous consumer goods, suggesting advertisers exploit the same suspense-building techniques to sell mundane products. It's commentary on how advertising mimics narrative drama to manipulate readers into purchases.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“CSFE"E * The Serial BURST upon the reader's eye With verbal trumpet blaring, Proclaiming me the latest ery In fictionary daring— Vital, compelling, hectic, rare, Heart-gripping, epoch-making! A woman's naked soul laid bare, A climax record-breaking! A quivering, pulsating plot, The mystery of a red room, A story to be read red hot In boudoir, bath or bedroom. An repentant, up to date, Confesses what her fall meant; You simply won't know how to wait Until the next installment, SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS Chapter CXCVIIT T come from heaven knows where—or when, My pedigree is shady. My father was a Fountain Pen; My mother, a Typelady, Who smote the keys from morn till night With fingers swift and taper, Till I appeared, all clean and bright, On reams of foolscap paper. And now in SERIAL form I flow, And flout at style and diction, As like a babbling brook I go To join the Sea of Fiction. Some streams, I know, more deeply flow, And some for speed endeavor. Short stories come, short stories go, But I'll go on forever. I glitter like a phony string Of pearls, with polish painful, With epigrams of doubtful ring And platitudes Hallcaineful. And many a mood and tense amiss, And metaphor amuddle, And here and there a clinging kiss, And here and there a cuddle— And here and there a phrase in French, To give a touch linguisty; And here and there a Fisher wench, _ And here and there a Christy. By shady Underwoods I glide, And vacant Hutts aplenty, With blooming Flaggs on every side— Continued on page twenty. PAGE 20 Now here and there and everywhere My thin stream slowly trickles 'Twixt BUNK’S ELIXIR FOR THE HAIR And BLACK AND CROSSWELL’S PICKLES. And here a temperamental scene, Fervid, intense, Byronic— Tosses tempestuous between AYRE’S SOAP and TINKHAM’S TONIC. A sprightly conversation’s flow Is checked by SOAK AND STING- HAM’S PINK PILLS, to reappear below An ad for ladies’ thingums.