When people ask me what I write, I usually say:
"Penny Dreadfuls. But they cost more than a penny and aren't dreadful."
A historian might point out that's this is not really correct (and some may argue that, indeed, my writing is dreadful, by Jove!), because Penny Dreadfuls were a thing of the 19th century, and I aim for an 18th century feeling. Amandine de Villeneuve's woodcut-like illustrations are in the style of the 18th century as well. But from their content, I feel that my stories are "Penny Dreadfuls" rather than "Chapbooks", their cruder 18th century predecessors (we'll get to that in a minute).
Penny Dreadfuls were stories published in parts over a course of several week, costing one penny each. And for that, the 19th century teenager got Adventure! Drama! Swordfights! Highwaymen! Pirates! Vampires! A damsel in distress!
The 18th century had the "Chapbook". Its origins can be tracked back as early as the 1600s, and a chapbook could be just about anything from religious pamphlet to printed gallows speech to folk tale to coverage of the Great Fire of London. The natural lifespan of a chapbook was short; it usually ended as toilet paper. Samuel Pepys was a collector of chapbooks (I don't think anybody is surprised to hear that), and thanks to him, we still have a few examples to look at today.
It goes without saying that the medium hasn't been invented yet that wouldn't have been used for the distribution of mankind's number one interest. To quote Steve from "Coupling": "When man invented fire, he didn't say, "Hey, let's cook." He said, "Great, now we can see naked bottoms in the dark!" As soon as Caxton invented the printing press, we were using it to make pictures of, hey, naked bottoms!"
Raunchy, saucy, rude - those are the terms we usually connect with a "Chapbook" today. And now look what the cat dragged in:
STASH OF 'SAUCY' LITERATURE UNCOVERED AT HISTORIC LAKE DISTRICT HOUSE "They often contained rather saucy and even rude tales, which were found to be very amusing by their 18th century readers."
Heh. I bet not only by them. Here's an excerpt from "The Crafty Chambermaid", dating back to 1770; the tale of a chambermaid who tricks a young man into marrying her/of a London merchant who tries to romantically pursue a chambermaid (it depends on one's point of view, I suppose...)
The Merchant he softly crept into the room,
And on the bedside he then sat himself down,
Her knees through the Counterpane he did embrace,
Did Bess in the pillow did hide her sweet face.
He stript of his cloaths and leaped into bed
Saying now lovely creature for thy maidenhead,
She strug led and strove and seemed to be shy
He said divine beauty I pray now comply.
Things haven't changed much, now have they...