H. Rider Haggard knew. He tried to warn us.
So did Edmund Hamilton and Henry Kuttner and Jack Williamson.
You think not?
Then try this on for size: "Her hair was golden and flowing, her cheeks prominent, her eyes a brilliant blue, her firm alabaster breasts high and proud."
That was Kuttner. And now here's Kuttner as Lewis Padgett, one of his many pseudonyms: "Her firm alabaster bosom quivered in fright."
Knowing what we know about them now, it's hard to see how a Martian could resist. (And not a lot of them did. Resist, I mean.)
Then there was the old Lensman himself, E. E. "Doc" Smith. He wasn't much for describing his women once he got beyond their hair color and weaponry, but he managed this one: "She placed her hand to her full, ripe alabaster breasts."
You know how many copies of that wound up on the Red Planet? (Just in case you ever wondered why the pulps that carried Doc's old stories are so rare and so expensive, now you've got your answer.)
Take a look at the magazines back when Ed Hamilton and Jack Williamson were destroying and saving the galaxy every other week. Be honest now: did you ever see a description of ivory skin, or golden skin, or supple Nubian skin?
Come on, admit it. You never did. Not even once.
Because they were in on it, and they were trying to let us in on it too. That's why it was never gold or red or brown, but always alabaster.
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