Anders Monsen

Lost worlds and ports of call

Charles Grant’s horror trilogy

June 22, 2026 / / 0 Comments

In the 1980s Charles L. Grant wrote three books set in the same fictional location. The first one dealt with vampires, the second with werewolves, and the third with mummies. All are tropes of horror fiction going back to the beginning of the genre, although stories featuring mummies are in much shorter supply than vampires or werewolves. These books were all published by the Donald. M. Grant, who published many horror writers in the 1980s and 1990s, ranging from Charles L. Grant (no relation, I think) to Stephen King, as well as a slew of other writers.

Charles L. Grant was a noted writer and editor from the 1970s through the 1990s (he died on September 15, 2006 at the all-too-young age of 64). My introduction to Grant’s fiction came in the form of Borderlands Press’s Little Books series — A Little Black Book of Quiet Horror (2019). For many years I’d owned the second edition on Dark Harvest’s Night Visions #2, which Grant edited (he also edited the long-running horror anthology, Shadows, but I never read any of those books). The Borderlands Press book opened my eyes to Grant’s own fiction. I then bought a copy of The Soft Whisper of the Dead (1982), the first book in his trilogy of books set in Oxnard Station. It dealt with vampires. This year I bought both The Dark Cry of the Moon (1985), set in the same location and centered around werewolves and The Long Night of the Grave (1986), the last of the trio, which incorporated mummies to that same location.

The publisher, Donald M. Grant, issued both trade and limited editions, and I went for the trade editions. According to online sources, Grant wrote several other novels, and his Shadows anthology appeared in multiple years, and yet I don’t have a single copy of those books. In the 1980s and 1990s I was more into science fiction. Now I’m more into the mystery genre, although I also try to pick up and read books published by various small press houses from the 1980s and early 1990s. There’s an overlap, somehow, and Grant slots right into that overlap. I wish I’d known more about him earlier, rather than twenty years after he died. But, that’s how it goes these days, as I start to discover fiction from a quarter century ago.

Boston book haul

June 22, 2026 / / 0 Comments

I picked up a baker’s dozen worth of books at a recent Boston trip. This happened across four book stores, although I walked away from one of those stores without buying a single item. Why? Well, Brookline Booksmith marks every single one of their used books with an ink dot on the top or bottom edges of their books. They have a large used book section, but as soon as I saw how they defaced these books, it just sucked the will right out of me, to the point I barely looked at their new books selection.

The other stores I visited were more interesting: Harvard Book Store in Cambridge, and Brattle Books and Commonwealth Books in downtown Boston. All are well worth a visit. Commonwealth Books has several books published by NESFA Press, which makes sense as it’s the New England sf press. I could have bought a ton more of books in the Noir series as Brattle, but at that point I was almost out of suitcase space. Three of the books were hardcovers, and I probably could have added several more to my pile, but with limited space I had to make some hard decisions.

Ed Gorman’s collection, Prisoners (Cemetery Dance, 1992). This copy is one of the signed limited books. Although it’s in a slipcase, the book’s dustjacket shows some wear and tear.

Strange Days – Fabulous Journeys with Gardner Dozois (NESFA Press, 2001). Published on behalf of the 2001 WorldCon (Philcon), where Dozois was the guest of honor. Collects many of his short stories, plus his travel diary from the 1995 WorldCon in Glasgow, Scotland. Dozois has won multiple Hugo and other awards as an editor, and also was a prolific short story writer, both solo and in collaboration. Each of the stories are accompanied with an introduction from other writers.

Mike Resnick’s Voyages (Subterranean Press, 2017). Another signed/limited edition. It was marked down to $25 from $40 in the store, and looks like great fun in the pulp SF tradition. I’m a sucker for Subterranean Press books, and now that this small press is shutting down in a year or so, their books become artifacts in the history of the small press SF/Fantasy/horror world.

The rest are trade paperbacks or old paperbacks: Jack Vance’s The Narrow Land (Daw); a nicer copy than the one that I already owned. Vance’s The Book of Dreams (DAW); one of the Demon Prince novels, of which I owned just two of DAW books in that five-book series. Fritz Leiber’s The Second Books of Fritz Leiber (DAW). As I had DAW’s first books of Leiber, I had to have this one. Judy-Lynn Del Rey’s anthology, Stellar 1; I’ve struggled to find copies of this anthology, and still lack a few of them. All these paperbacks were in the $5 per book section for SF paperbacks, and there were many more I wanted, but maybe next time.

And then, a few mysteries. Len Deighton’s Spy Line (Grove Press). In retrospect, I regret not buying several other of his titles by the same publisher, but I wasn’t sure which ones I already had, so I need to make a list for the next time I’m in Boston. Charlotte Jay’s Beat Not the Bones (Soho Crime); winner of the first ever Edgar Award for best novel, so a critical work to buy and read. P.D. James’s Sleep No More (Vintage Books); a short story collection by one of the grandmasters of the genre. Helene Tursten’s Who Watcheth (Soho Crime); I thought I had all of Tursten’s books, but this was unfamiliar, and so I added it to my pile. Lastly, a pair of anthologies by Akashic — Denver Noir and New Haven Noir. This series has dozens of titles, so I’ve barely scratched the surface with my handful of copies.

A Snippet of SF History

May 9, 2026 /

A decade or two ago you still could buy class SF/Fantasy paperbacks at near-cover prices (or less!). These days, certain Sf/Fantasy paperbacks once published for less than $4 fetch $20 plus on eBay or other online sellers. This is especially true of the Ballantine series of fantasy books from writers such as Arthur Machen, Clark Ashton Smith, and others, published in the 1970s and 1980s. It’s also true for the DAW “Best Of” anthologies, from Fantasy, Horror, and SF.

It’s also true, as I recently learned, of the multi-volume series from DAW Books with the titles, “Isaac Asimov Presents the Greatest SF Stories.” These books were published from 1979 to 1992. Each volume collected the “best of” stories published in the years 1939 through 1963 (25 volumes in all). Although I have some of the books in DAWs other anthologies, I’d never come across Asimov’s series. This changed when I found volumes 10 and 11, both in near pristine condition, and each available for the shockingly low price of $3.99.

You might consider this a victory of significant proportions, given that some books are sold online for many times that amount. That is, until you look for the other 23 books in the series and realize that trying to collect them all would leave a massive dent in anyone’s wallet. Then again, I’m a haphazard collector; I simply shrugged when I saw those prices from online seller: if I come across any other of the volumes in this series, I might (or might not) buy them, but I’m not on the hunt for unknown conditions available only online.

Volume 10 was published in August 1983 and contained stories from 1948 by writers like Henry Kuttner, H. Beam Piper, A. E. van Vogt, Judith Merril, Ray Bradbury, John D. MacDonald, and others.

Volume 11 was published in March 1984 and contained stories from 1949 by writers like Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Clifford D. Simak, C. M. Kornbluth, Theodore Sturgeon, and others.

It’s strange, then, to look at the table of contents and see in each book the majory of authors listed are notable names, giants even in the field of science fiction. These were stories written almost a century ago. Fast forward to a amere handful of years prior to the present, and almost no authors in current anthologies are memorable writers. Whatever happened to the field of science fiction? Will any current writers in the SF/Fantasy field be relevant, or even remembered, 80-100 years from now?

Clark Ashton Smith’s The Dark Eidolon

May 4, 2026 /

I’m a huge fan of Clark Ashton Smith. I arrived there via Jack Vance, having once read that Vance’s fiction was somewhat similar to that of Mr. Smith. In the 1990s I was lucky enough to find some paperbacks with Smith’s fiction. Later, I acquired the Arkham House edition of A Rendezvous in Averoigne, a collection of Smith’s stories. I devoured all his stories, and found his personal history just as fascinating. From there, I bought a book that contained some of Smith’s letters, then a pair of trade paperback reprints: Lost Worlds and Out of Space and Time. After that, the set of books published by Night Shade Books, which collects many of Smith’s stories. Along the way, I looked into trying to find original publications, which meant Arkham House.

Although I own a handful of Arkham House books, much like their other earlier books — that is, anything prior to 1975 — their Smith publications were often far beyond my budget. Other than 1988’s A Rendezvous in Averoigne, I have Tales of Science and Sorcery from 1964, plus a collection of his letters published in 2003. However, I’m not brave enough (or crazy enough) to shell out the money for the earlier Arkham House editions.

So, to my surprise I recently came across a book called The Dark Eidolon and Other Fantasies, published by Penguin Books in 2014 and edited by S. T. Joshi. I almost put this book back, as I probably have all of Smith’s short stories in various volumes. Then, as I checked the table of contents I found that it contained not just a selection of his short stories, but a long list of poems as well. In all, there are over 40 of Smith’s poems in this volume. Since most of Smith’s Arkham House books (and earlier ones) these days fetch a premium, I’ve read only a fraction of Smith’s poems.

I have an affinity for Smith’s poems; one my of favorite books is Tim Powers’ The Stress of Her Regard, which takes its titles from word within a poem by Clark Ashton Smith. There’s a certain symmetry there, and now I can finally read more than a snippet or two of Smith’s poetry.

Erle Stanley Gardner’s science fiction stories

May 4, 2026 /

Now and then I stop by a local used book store chain. There used to be a couple of them nearby, but one closed down a few years ago, and now it’s almost a chore to visit any of them. There are four of them still in San Antonio, but three are somewhat out of my way. The one that’s closest also is in the process of moving. Still, it was on my way as I drove out of town, so I swung over there for a few minutes of browsing. Sometimes in Half Price Books I walk away with nothing, sometimes I end up with with an armful of books (rarer these days), and sometimes I end up with one or two books.

Today, I picked up a usual book: the collected science fiction stories by Erle Stanley Gardner, under the title, The Human Zero. This hardcover book, published by William Morrow in 1981 (edited by Martin H. Greenberg and Charles G. Waugh), bore a sticker with the low price of $5.99. The book, which was published in 1981 and had a mylar cover over the dust jacket. Erle Stanley Gardner wasn’t a name I expected to see in the science fiction section. After all, he’s known for his large body of work in the mystery genre, especially Perry Mason. Yet there it was, and, sucker that I am for SF from the 1980s, I immediately grabbed it from the shelf. As I stood there, I flicked through the pages, and found an interesting paper stuck somewhere in the first third of the book, a receipt from Amazon. It was dated nearly a quarter of a century ago.

I won’t name the person, but he’d ordered the book from Montclair Book Center via Amazon back in 2003 for $20. That same evening, I looked up the name and learned that this person had passed away in 2025, at the age of 88. Strange to think that 23 years ago he’d ordered this book, then at some point stuck the printed receipt amidst its pages, almost like a bookmark. Then, after his passing, it’s likely that his relatives had brought this book — and probably others from his library — to Half Price Books, unloading many of his treasured memories, and gaining a few cents in return.

Ah, yes, I’ve sold some books to HPB in my time; I’ve dropped off boxes of books at their counter, stood there and accepted their low prices, listened as others who stared at them person quoting them their “offers.” Do you take it? Do you walk away? Most people just sigh and say, “Ok.” Then they take their receipt to the front, gather their handful of cash, and forget about those books as they leave the store. It’s been a while since I last sold books there. I’m more inclined these day to give away any extra books, rather than listen to low-ball offers.

Sure, I’ve sold a few books to HPB, but I’ve bought far more. Sometimes, I’ve paid a premium, well above half price. Sometimes, half the cover price. In this case, Gardner’s book, which was published at $12.95 in 1981 — forty-five years ago! — was listed for only $5.99. This was almost at half price, matching the name of the store. Meanwhile, in a glass-fronted shelf, another rare book by a different author was listed for $3,000. In other instances I’ve seen rare books well above what I would, while I’ve also found equally rare books for a fraction of their original cost. It’s a strange business, Half Price Books. And yet, I go back whenever possible. It makes me I wonder, though, will my children one day drop off some of my once-treasured books at a place that pays a few pennies for items that were my treasures?

This book also had a stamp with a date, one of those rotating stamps where you set the day, month and year. I could not erase this stamp, like I could the penciled cost from a prior seller, with a regular stamp. Instead I tried a “sand” stamp. It worked too well. Just as I thought I had the ink erased, I rubbed a hole in the paper. It was my first such test of a sand stamp, so I had no idea what to expect. I came across a couple of paperback anthologies at the same time, and bought those. The same stamp, with different dates, appeared in those books as well, so they must have come from the same person. I’m sure there were other books in the shelves from that person, but I didn’t see any other titles I wanted. I think, were I to come across any more with the dates stamped into the books, that I would leave them there.

K. W. Jeter’s Infernal Devices

April 15, 2026 /

One of a handful of paperback books that I store in a plastic wrapper is K. W. Jeter’s Signet edition of Infernal Devices.

This book, published in November, 1987 is inscribed to me by Jeter, whom I met back in 1989 or 1990 at a science fiction convention in Austin, Texas called Armadillocon (I’m guessing it was 1990, since my inscribed copy of Farewell Horizontal was published in 1989, and I probably got them both signed at the same time). Subtitled “A mad Victorian fantasy,” this book was one of the pioneering Steampunk novels in the 1980s and 1990s, along with Jeter’s own Morlock Night, and several books by James P. Blaylock (another of my favorite writers, but not necessarily for the Steampunk angle).

After I read Infernal Devices, I went on to buy many more books by Jeter, both in paperback and hardcover, whenever I could find them. I don’t have all of his books, especially some of the earlier paperbacks (Mantis, The Dreamfields, Soul Eater, Dark Seeker—all are out there somewhere). Jeter wrote across many genres, though mainly SF and horror; In the Land of the Dead, Mantis, and The Night Man fall into the horror genre (Recently, I was lucky enough to get a hardcover copy of the Morrigan’s edition of In the Land of the Dead). He also has written fantasy books, such as Morlock Night, and the trilogy that started with Infernal Devices. Every time I’m in a bookstore, I check the “J” section for anything by Jeter. The man’s just a great writer. I’d say that I rarely have any luck, but this past weekend (as I was waiting for the hardcover edition of Infernal Devices to arrive, I found a copy of Noir, almost as if the planets had aligned at that moment. Two or three years ago I found a near-fine copy of Seeklight, Jeter’s first novel, but that’s about it these days.

I was aware, of courses, that a hardcover edition of Infernal Devices existed. In all the years since it was published, and since I bought the paperback edition, I never came across a physical copy in any bookstores or at any of the science fiction conventions which I attended in the 1990s and early 2000s. By pure chance, however, I stumbled across a copy online recently, and knew I had to have it. In what condition would it arrive, was the question… Thankfully, it looked almost new, and fit right in with my other Jeter books.

Jeter since followed up with two sequels in the world of Infernal Devices: Fiendish Schemes (2013) and Grim Expectations (2017) — such brilliant titles! Tor Books published the hardcover and trade paperback edition of Fiendish Schemes. In 2017 Angry Robot published Grim Expectations as a paperback original. They also published the previous two books in a nice matching set of trade paperback books. It’s a long way from 1987 to 2013. While I devoured Infernal Devices fairly quickly, I’ve so far struggled to get into the sequels. I’m suer I’ve changed as much as Jeter, but now that I have the hardcover edition of Infernal Devices, maybe it’s time to try again.

Ray Garton’s Crucifax Autumn

April 10, 2026 /

I’m slowly narrowing in on one of my current goals: collecting all the books published by Dark Harvest, a small press active from 1983 to 1992. In that decade of activity Dark Harvest published over 50 books, from horror to science fiction to mysteries. My latest addition is Ray Garton’s Crucifax Autumn, a horror novel from 1998. With this book, only four remain on my list: a pair of Lawrence Block books, a horror anthology, and the first book ever published by Dark Harvest, back in 1983. Two of those four might prove to be impossible to find.

Ray Garton (1962-2024) was a noted horror writer. He was the author of over 60 books, the most notable being Live Girls. In an old interview he talks about the genesis of that novel, while walking through Times Square in the 1980s. On my first visit to the US back in 1987, I got lost on the New York Subway and exited long before my actual destination. I ended up walking south for countless blocks, also passing through Times Square. This was before the cleanup, before Times Square became a massive and relatively clean tourist attraction. My experience in Times Square in 1987 was similar to that of Garton’s: it was like walking through another planet, full of garish signs and pulsating neon, even in the middle of the day. Unlike Garton, that strange side of life didn’t interest me, and I’d never dove in that world to write a novel.

Garton was a published writer by age 22. He was awarded the 2006 World Horror Convention Grand Master Award, wrote short stories, novels, novelizations, and even ventured into the YA market. I’ve only read a trio of his books (Lot Lizards, Methods of Madness, plus his Borderlands Press collection, A Little Gray Book of Grim Tales), as I rarely read horror, but in my experience Garton’s a tough, no holds barred writer. As someone who saw himself as a person born to write, and kept at it until his death, Garton went far, far too soon at the age of 62.

Charles de Lint’s Spirits in the Wires

April 7, 2026 /

These days I rarely — if ever — come across a decent copy of any Charles de Lint books in a used book store. It was a shock, when this past weekend I came across a near-fine copy of Spirits in the Wires, in a hardcover edition for just $5.99. Until now I’ve seen just the occasional trade paperback edition of this title, and none in a decent condition. Any time that I come across a de Lint book that I don’t have, it’s a moment of celebration.

Published in 2003 — over 20 years ago now! — Spirits in the Wires touches upon the early moments of the Internet. How bizarre it is, for someone like myself who witnessed the birth of the internet, who delved into the World Wide Web back when it first was formed, to now look back and almost wish it never was invented. Yet, here we have almost 450 pages of a novel centered around the idea that some of the spirits of faery have moved to the aether of ones and zeros, bits and bytes.

Although I own a mix of paperback, hardcover, and specialty press books by Mr. de Lint, there’s still over 20 of his books that I lack. Recently, I’ve added a few of those missing books. Some of those additions remain unread. Isn’t that the best part about owning books, finding books that have yet to be discovered? Sometimes I think so. Having read close to 30 of de Lint’s books, I love the fact that there are still nearly two dozen that I haven’t read. I may never read them all, but I so envy anyone who reads his fiction for the first time. Treasure it, for there are few writers (if any) like him.

Charles de Lint’s Medicine Road

April 3, 2026 /

Back in the 1990s, a good friend of mine who also was into genre fiction recommended the writer, Charles de Lint. I was more into science fiction books at the time, and not so much fantasy (unless it was books by Jack Vance). Still, under pressure I bought a couple of de Lint’s books. After reading these, I was hooked. I mostly bought paperbacks back then, but in short order I had a baker’s dozen of his books. Most were in great shape, but for a pair of hard-to-find titles I had to set aside my distaste for battered books with broken spines; my copies of Mulengro and The Riddle of the Wren have yet to be replaced by better versions.

Charles de Lint’s books, although marketed as fantasy, aren’t your typical fantasy books. I’ve heard his fiction mentioned as “urban fantasy,” which means you don’t see any swords, dragons, or princesses waiting to be rescued. Yet, there’s magic in his books, shape-shifting, a sense of wonder, a definite mythology, and a strong feeling that you want it to be real.

Not content with just paperbacks, I started buying any de Lint book that I could find. Over time, I’ve acquired 34 of his books, and read almost all of them at least once. He’s seen success with major publishers, and has a loyal fan base. Several of his books have been published by small press publishers, often at a premium. This is especially true of Subterranean Press, which has published almost two dozen of his books. In some cases these books are quite limited (Moonheart comes to mind). In others, they’re published in editions between 1,000 and 2,000 copies. That should be enough to satisfy any de Lint fan.

While the majority of de Lint’s urban fantasy stories take place in his native Canada, blending in Northern-American folklore and European folklore (especially the Celtic variety), he occasionally ventures into south-west regions of America. Medicine Road, published in 2004, moves a pair of characters from his novel, Seven Wild Sisters (Subterranean Press, 2002) into Arizona. Two of the seven sisters from Seven Wild Sisters, Laurel and Bess Dillard, are musicians. As the novel opens they’re in Tucson, as part of their current tour. Where it goes from there, I have yet to discover, as I just acquired the book a few days ago.

Medicine Road was published in two states: a trade hardcover edition, and a signed, leatherbound edition. My trade edition is signed by both de Lint and illustrator, Charles Vess. I like the cover of this edition, and the illustrations from Vess are quite captivating. Vess has illustrated several of de Lint’s books, bringing to life many of de Lint’s characters.

Starting around 2000, I mostly stopped buying a lot of SF and fantasy books, even by authors that I liked, such as de Lint. I’ve started reading some SF and fantasy books again, and de Lint is high on my list. There’s still a dozen Subterranean Press editions of de Lint’s books that I don’t have. Even though many of them were published nearly two decades ago, to me these are “new” books. Some of them are just harder to find than others.

Connie Willis’s The Winds of Marble Arch

April 3, 2026 /

Acquiring the Subterranean Press edition of Connie Willis’s short story collection, The Winds of Marble Arch and Other Stories, intersects nicely with a pair my current book collecting goals. First, I’m always on the lookout to find books by Connie Willis. Second, Subterranean Press does a great job with each of their publications, and for any small press aficionado, this is one of the best publishers out there.

For many years I owned just one book by Willis. Up until sometime in 2024, that book sat gathering dust somewhere in my bookshelves. I think I even considered purging it, despite it being a hardcover edition in great shape. I needed more shelf space, and wasn’t sure if I’d ever read it. Then, in 2024 I bought a pair of Willis’s books: the Subterranean Press edition of All Seated on the Ground, and the Ballantine Books edition of All Clear. Although I own just less than 10 percent of Subterranean Press output, these days if I can acquire another one of their books to my library it’s a memorable event.

The Winds of Marble Arch, is a collection of 23 of Willis’s short stories. Published by Subterranean Press back in 2007, this novella may well have been my first foray into Willis’s fiction. I found it quite funny, so I started looking for more of her books. Most are now out of print, so finding any her books has often been challenging.

The Subterranean Press edition of this book is a hefty volume. Within its 700 pages, ranging from short stories to novellas, there’s more than enough short piece of fiction to savor. She’s another person born to write, and I wish I’d started buying her books sooner. Still, discovering another “new” writer is always a great experience.

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