A few months ago Centipede Press released volume 7 in their reprint of all of Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and Gray Mouser books, The Knight and Knave of Swords. This was the last book in the series that Leiber wrote, originally published on December 20, 1988 by William Morrow. I know this because that 1988 book was my first Leiber hardcover, a review copy that someone gifted to me, with the press release letter still in the book.
I’ve written before about my gradual accumulation of this series in hardcover format. All my other copies were paperback editions, acquired in used bookstores in the late 1980s and early 1990s, when one still could fine those Ace paperbacks in decent shape. So, when Centipede Press announced this series I made it a point to check their website, subscribe to their newsletter, so I could know the exact dates these books were published.
In this book, Centipede Press has outdone themselves. There are, per the publisher, “seven interior illustrations, a full-color frontispiece, two maps, a full color wraparound dustjacket, and illustrated endpapers.” With an introduction by Marc Laidlaw, artwork by Tim Kirk, and bonus material at the end, there’s a lot to absorb and enjoy. It even smells great!
Centipede Press has released both signed and unsigned copies of the book. Mine are of the unsigned variety. Leiber died a few years ago, so those signatures would be a facsimile, and my miserly self isn’t ready to shell out extra coin for the other contributor’s signatures.
If readers (or buyers) are new to this series, then finding the earlier books might prove an expensive endeavor. New from the publisher the cost had been somewhere around $70-$80. On the secondary market, either from dealers or collectors looking to offload books, the cost triples. Centipede Press books tend to fetch a premium on the secondary market, at least for books older than a few years. Supposedly there are two more books announced in this series, per the publisher: “Swords Against the Shadowland by Robin Wayne Bailey and a ninth volume which will be a book of all sorts of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser archival artwork.” Since, in this case, I got in on the ground floor with volume 1, I’ll go for the last two, as here I might actually a chance for a complete set.
In the meantime, I’m torn between re-reading the stories from my 1988 edition, or gently reading the stories from the new edition. The bonus material is one thing, but spending hours with such a gorgeous book is another thing altogether.
I started to write something about Howard Waldrop the day I learned he died, when I read about it on Lawrence Person’s blog on January 15, 2024. Back then, I found it impossible to put any words together about Waldrop. I still struggle today to find the right words; I’m not quite sure why I’m thus affected, as I knew him mainly through his fiction.
I met Waldrop only twice in my life, so, unlike many of the people who have written about Waldrop, I never knew him personally. The second time I met Waldrop, coincidentally, was at Person’s house in June 2005. I happened to drop by to buy some books when Waldrop and Bradley Denton both were there, two writers I greatly admire. I managed to get a few books signed, mumbling a few world to each writer about how much I liked their stories; Waldrop grumbled a bit as he inscribed a copy of Howard Who? which he’s already signed, as it was one of the books I bought from Person that day, but I persisted, as an inscribed copy meant more to me. A few years earlier I’d stood in line at Armadillocon in 1989 and Waldrop had signed A Dozen Tough Jobs and Them Bones, a pair of books published by Mark V. Zeisings that were my initiation into his fiction. I only know these dates because Waldrop added dates to the books he signed.
Between 1989 and 2024 I bought virtually every Waldrop book I could find, which I think is all save one original book and two collections of stories that I already own in other formats.
Howard Waldrop is known for writing stories at the last minute, pressured by having to read them at a science fiction convention, and for mainly writing short fiction. He’s also known for not making a ton of money for his fiction, despite the admiration of many a writer and editor. The funny thing is that I have never heard Waldrop read a single story. Sure, I attended Armadillocon for many years between 1988 and 2000 (and a couple of times since), but for some reason I always left the convention early, long before Waldrop did his famous readings. Since I lived in Austin, where the conference was located, I never stayed at the hotel, and generally left after the dealer’s room closed, or found some other excuse to skip the crowds. Instead, I read his stories in books as they were collected and published, with my inner voice, rather than Waldrop’s own Texas twang.
These books include Howard Who? his first collection, which I didn’t read as an introduction to his work. Rather, after Them Bones and A Dozen Tough Jobs (a novel and long novella) I read is short fiction first in the collection, Strange Monsters of the Recent Past, a paperback published by ACE Books in 1991. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this book had been published in a hardcover edition by Ursus in 1987 under the title, All About Strange Monsters of the Recent Past; in early 2023 I found a copy of the Ursus book online and acquired the signed, limited edition, a gorgeous slipcased book signed by all 11 contributors. My next Waldrop book after the 1989 encounter, was Night of the Cooters, a book published by Ursus in 1990 (or 1991, as Waldrop wrote when he signed my copy in 2005). I only have the trade edition of this book, but the title story is a classic retelling of H. G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, set in rural Texas. (I missed out on acquiring a signed/limited copy, as I thought that, since I already have one hardcover edition, why spend money on a second? Dumb, eh?)
After Night of the Cooters, I bought another collection, Going Home Again, this time bought from Adventures in Crime and Space in Austin, back in the good old days of independent book stores. This book also was signed by Waldrop on that day in 2005 (as I brought it with me hoping to get one book signed), where he remarked that this book was “remaindered and pulped, all in one operation.” Going Home Again contains a bibliography, which since has been superseded by other, more recent stories. Waldrop’s statement about the remaindering and pulping still saddens me to this day. Waldrop was heavily involved in SF conventions throughout his life, even WorldCon. But did he ever get a Hugo Award, the supposedly “best SF award” from fans? No, not ever. Instead, the Worldcon fans, who nominate and vote on the Hugo Award, each year put forth their puerile faves, and each year the genre shrinks.
Some other collections that I acquired over the years: Custer’s Last Jump, under the Golden Gryphon imprint, published in 2003. I was lucky enough to get Waldrop to sign this book, which he inscribed “good luck getting these boyos to sign this” as it’s a collection of collaborations. Who are the other authors? Bruce Sterling, who rarely visits the US these days. Leigh Kennedy, who lives in the United Kingdom, Steven Utley (deceased 2013), Buddy Saunders (still around, but apparently an unperson for certain views), George R. R. Martin (impossible to approach these days as his fame rivals that of Stephen King), and A. A. Jackson.
Dream Factories and Radio Pictures appeared and vanished just as quickly. The Heart of Whiteness was published in a limited edition by Subterranean Press in 2005. My copy is number 615 of 750 printed (plus 26 lettered copies). Imagine that, a collection of Waldrop with only 750 (or rather, 776) copies! In 2013 Small Beer Press published A Horse of a Different Color, containing stories written after 2008. A pair of collections were later published by Old Earth Books, mostly already published stories (if not all already published stories). Between 2008 and 2023, no trace that I can find of new fiction from Waldrop.
In 2023 Subterranean Press announced a new collection, called H’ard Starts, one intended with all monies going to Waldrop. For some reason, despite his brilliant stories throughout the years, Waldrop never quite reached the fame and financial reward that his stories merited. H’ard Starts, the collection of early tales, was slated for publication later that year. I pre-ordered a copy the moment I learned about it. On regular intervals I checked the Sub Press page, which still advertised the book for many months. Despite the presence of George R. R. Martin’s name (for years he was a friend of Waldrop’s), the book, limited to 750 copies, remains available as of this date. Where are the Waldrop fans? Then, finally, the book was published, and reached my hands. It was numbered 290 of 750 copies. Maybe people didn’t buy it because Subterranean Press gets limited attention, or the price made people hesitate in our current economic age of inflation and misery. Then again, the fans just aren’t there. The Hugos that are voted on by “the fans” don’t grace Waldrop’s bookshelves, despite the plethora of candidates throughout the years.
A few months after H’ard Starts was published, Howard Waldrop died. There is no justice in the universe.
Why do I like his stories? In one sense, they are unique. Many of them are alternate history tales, and in that sense he’s not too unique, as other writers inhabit this genre. But Waldrop writes primarily in the short fiction form, and he takes ideas almost too weird to exist and makes them real. Maybe it’s that weirdness that speaks to me, that power of invention and crazy imagination. Waldrop also has a certain style, one not easily (if ever) imitated. I hardly knew him as a person, having only met him twice, and as nothing more than a fan. But, from what I’ve read from the people who knew him, he was one of a kind, not just in terms of his fiction, but as a person. Rest in Peace, Howard Waldrop, and thanks for crafting into words some of the greatest stories ever written.
Charles de Lint is prolific writer whose books have become harder to find. In the 1990s and early 2000s, paperback copies of early de Lint books were still available, as well as newer ones in hardcover, at least in the local new and used bookstores. Even though I dislike beat-up books, or books with cracked spines, I bought any de Lint book that at the time I didn’t own, regardless of condition. For a long time I mostly owned de Lint paperbacks. I slowly started accruing some hardcover editions when those appeared. Then, shortly after the year 2000 the number of books I bought dropped sharply. Reading habits changed, kids came into my life, I moved cities, and a host of other things happened around the same time. I looked at my de Lint books recently, and compared to his published output, although I own close to 30 of his books, that’s maybe around half his published books.
These days, as I’m trying to fill in a few gaps with books from favorite writers that I’ve missed over those “lost” years, de Lint’s books are high on my list. It seems that a fair number of his books in the 2000s were published in limited editions by Subterranean Press. These all are now out of print. Looking at the list of books under his name from that publisher, it would take a fair amount of money and effort to collect them all. But, I’ve slowly started to pick up a few of them.
First of these was Promises to Keep (Subterranean Press, 2007 – trade hardcover edition). This slim novel features an early tale from a character that has appeared in other de Lint stories, Jilly Coppercorn. With over two decades since I last read anything by de Lint, I don’t remember having previously encountered her. (Note: glancing through my stack of paperbacks I see that Jilly appears in Dreams Underfoot, a collection of linked stories. I’ve this book for many years, and I think I read some—or all—of the stories at some point.)
Next, Eyes Like Leaves (Subterranean Press, 2009 – signed, not numbered hardcover). This is early novel. It was first finished in 1980, but as de Lint explains in his introduction, his then editor cautioned against publishing it, as she felt it would pigeon-hole him as a “secondary world fantasy author.” At the time, he had already published a few novels, and was moving into a more contemporary fantasy genre, so he set aside the manuscript. Prompted by the release in book form of some earlier short stories (see below), he dusted off this book, cleaned it up a bit, and so we have a “lost” novel from de Lint, set in a magical world in an imaginary land.
Then, The Wind in His Heart (PS Publishing, 2018, signed and limited, #214 of 500 copies). This book, which I read in March 2024, is set far away from his usual imaginary city of Newford in Canada, and in the afterword de Lint mentions that the market for his adult books disappeared, and for years he had to write young adult stories. This probably explains one of the reasons in my gap of de Lint books. Still, I’m maybe part of the reason of that disappearing market, as until quite recently the last de Link book I bought was back in 2002; looking at an online bibliography, he published over 25 books since that 2002 purchase.
A Handful of Coppers (Subterranean Press, 2003 – signed, not numbered hardcover), contains some of the earliest de Lint stories. Every new writer needs to read a book like this, if only to remind themselves, as de Lint writes, that whether or not the stories he wrote back then are good or not (and writers mostly look back at early fiction and cringe), they were the best that they could be at the time. Many a new writer has looked at his or her first few stories and given up, seeing only rough, misshapen plots and characters. It takes time, work, effort, and someone like Charles de Lint put in a ton of effort to become a great writer, something evident even in his early stories.
Quicksilver & Shadow (Subterranean Press, 2005 – signed, not numbered hardcover) follows with more early tales. While the stories in A Handful of Coppers are mostly in the fantasy genre, the ones in this collection are described as “contemporary, dark fantasy, and science fiction.” Subterranean Press published a slew of de Lint books over the years, so I now feel the pressure to find the other collections and novels. Maybe it’s time to re-read some of the ones that I read so many years ago, as well.
I first read a Robert McCammon novel sometime in the early 1980s, when I read a handful of vampire novels, including ones by Bram Stoker, Stephen King, Anne Rice, and, of course, McCammon’s They Thirst.
Then, in the 1990s, on a different continent, I read a handful of McCammon paperback originals—The Wolf’s Hour, The Night Boat, Stinger, and Blue World. I tried to keep up with his books in hardback once his novels moved to that format, although I had to pause and backtrack when they only became available in expensive small press editions. Along the way, prior to those small press editions and as I switched to current hardcover books, I missed out on a trio of paperbacks—Swan Song, Bethany’s Sin, and Baal.
In terms of Swan Song, I don’t mind not having the paperback, as I was able to get the hardcover Dark Harvest edition via my brother-in-law, who at the time was a part-time book dealer with similar tastes in fiction. He even brought me back the book from a convention he attended, where McCammon had inscribed the book to me, even though I wasn’t there in person.
Lately, I’ve acquired a handful of these small press editions, usually the less expensive trade editions (many small press publishers create two to three different editions of the same book. The more expensive ones tend to have some extras, such as slip cases, or additional material). Now and then I’ve been lucky enough to find a few of the limited books by chance, notably Blue World (signed, limited edition) and The Border (just the “deluxe hardcover edition”), and all the Matthew Corbett books save The Queen of Bedlam. A few of the rarer ones remain beyond my price threshold.
However, I’ve finally reached the point again where I can buy newly released McCammon books as they are published, rather than deliberately hunt down available copies on the second-hand market, like I did with a hardcover copy of Bethany’s Sin and the pair of vampire westerns, I Travel by Night and Last Train from Perdition (there really needs to be a third, novel to wrap up the trilogy, but that likely won’t happen). Now and then I check a few online places for what’s currently listed.
Then, recently I found an approachable (in terms of price) copy of the Subterranean Press edition of Baal, the only McCammon novel that I’ve never read. It’s also the first novel he wrote, back when he was only 25. Usually this novel fetches prices well in excess of $150, but in this case I found a copy for a third of that price. The cover looks grim, and a brief synopsis I read also portends a grim novel. Aside from this book, I think there only are two (maybe three) other McCammon books that I don’t own. I know of the Borderlands Press Little Book entry, and a small collection of Greystone Bay tales (small in size and number of stories).
Ah, the Little Book series from Borderlands Press. Somehow I suckered myself into trying to collect these books, before I knew what a daunting task lay ahead. To date—Spring 2024—almost 60 little books have been published in the series; I lack nine of the books, all impossibly priced. Although sold by the publisher for around $30 (and rising, not including what I see as an excessive shipping charge), almost all the books go out of print quickly. A few are available on places like eBay or ABE Books from dealers, usually marked up depending on the name recognition of the author. The hard to find books are priced accordingly, and those Nazgul Nine remain outside my current budget.
The series started back in 2003 with John Maclay’s vampire stories, and continued at irregular intervals with a few books each year (although there seems to have been a gap between 2005 and 2014). The most recent edition is a set of stories by perhaps one of the most famous names in horror fiction. No, not Stephen King—H. P. Lovecraft. This lean-faced misanthrope from Rhode Island is loved by some, hated by others, indebted by almost all modern fantasy and horror writers (whether they admit it or not). Lovecraft’s little book was published in March 2024, edited by S. T. Joshi. It’s part of a series of “past masters of horror” and followed another famous name–Robert E. Howard. In order of when they were acquired, here are the most recent additions to my Little Book collection.
Owen King, A Little Bronze Book of Greebles. #PC of 500. Part of the set of books in Volume 3 / Series III and signed by Owen King. It contains mostly short pieces of commentary, plus a couple of short stories. If it’s limited to 500 copies as my book says, then how come there are PC versions?
Henry S. Whitehead, A Little Orange Book of Voodoo Tales, #99 of 500. Signed by editor, Thomas Tessier, it contains five short stories. Until I bought this book I’d not heard of Whitehead. Past of the Volume 3 / Series IV, also known as the “Past Masters of Horror” grouping, as are the following three books. These books tend to sell out shortly after publication. Several of the past master of horror are unknowns. Getting them back in print, even just a few stories, is a great feat.
Robert E. Howard, A Little Bronze Book of Weird Tales, #28 of 500. Signed by editor, P. Gardner Goldsmith, it contains 11 short stories. Most, if not all, of REH’s stories have been collected elsewhere. I have only a few of Howard’s books, all paperbacks of various hue. He’s a major influence on the field of fantasy, though is known mainly for his Conan character. Died tragically by his own hand at the young age of 30. Might have become a major American writer had he lived. My copy has a sad spine lean, though I bought it directly from the publisher. Already sold out, which is not surprising.
Saki, A Little Red Book of Wit & Shudders, not numbered, but signed by the editor, Stuart Davis Schiff. Supposedly limited to 500 signed copies, but is that really the case? This Saki book doesn’t have any numbering. My Owen King book is marked as PC, aka presentation copy, so it does appear there are more than the advertised 500 printed up and signed. I have seen other copies of this title listed for sales on the second-hand market and advertised as “numbered X of 500,” so did they just print extra copies for the fun of it? I bought this from a dealer, so who knows. Contains 18 short-short stories–the book is only around 150 pages long, so that averages to just over eight pages per story.
H. P. Lovecraft, A Little Silver Book of Supernatural Stories, #290 of 500 copies, and signed by the editor, S. T. Joshi. Contains nine stories, all likely appeared elsewhere many times. But, what’s a Past Masters of Horror series without Lovecraft? There was a time when it was impossible to find any of Lovecraft’s fiction, unless you sought out Arkham House editions. These days Lovecraft is big business, with multiple multi-volume editions of his work churned out almost annually. Perhaps he slipped into the public domain, or maybe he experienced the same posthumous rise to fame as Philip .D. Dick. Although, in terms of the latter, I’m sure the Blade Runner movie started that industry of books and movies.
I guess the next book in the series has to be Clark Ashton Smith. I’m a huge CAS fan, and have read most of his stories, so there won’t be anything new there if that’s the case. Other possible names in this series include Fritz Leiber, maybe Manley Wade Wellman, or Lord Dunsany. Even James Branch Cabell is a candidate. There’s a scarcity of female writers in this series, so that’s an area that might need attention.
As far as the Little Books series goes, as a “haphazard collector” I am resigned to not having the complete series here; I’ll get what I can find, or try to just keep up with the series now.
As a matter of trivial knowledge, there are only 24 unique colors spread among the nearly 60 books. Of these, five colors have four books each, nine have three colors, one with two, and nine again with unique colors. So far no one’s managed to come up with A Little Book of Turquoise Turgid Tales or A Little Book of Pink Phantasies (hello, future editor of George MacDonald stories…). I don’t mean to overly question the editors or publishers, but surely there are other options aside from black, purple, orange, and red?
Although I have quite a large collection of F. Paul Wilson books (over 50), I don’t have them all. The first Wilson book I read was An Enemy of the State, back in 1986. For many years I tried to buy every Wilson book that I could find, often staying up long into the night to finish a book the same day I bought it. In recent years some of his books appeared only via small press publishers; Wilson noted at some point that he’d been dropped by Tor Books, which had been publishing his Repairman Jack novels. As I wasn’t tapped into the releases from small press publishers where some of his recent books found a home, I missed a few books. Recently, I added a trio of Wilson novels to my library.
The first is Signalz, published in 2021, which I bought from publisher Gauntlet Press. This book is ostensibly part of his “secret history of world” collected tales. Most of these secret history books involve Repairman Jack, but this book does not. My copy is number 54 of 500 signed and numbered books. I sincerely hope the publisher sells/sends random numbers, as it would be a shame if only 53 people prior to me bought this novel.
Another Wilson book that I picked up is The Fifth Harmonic. I don’t think I’d ever heard of this book until recently. It’s a book that seems out of place for Wilson, a sort of debate between science and new age mysticism, involving chakras, Mayan mythology, and mind-over-matter in curing cancer. Still, it’s an engrossing thriller, and I it read in one day (or rather, evening). Even though I was bothered by some inconsistencies in the book, Wilson’s a compelling writer who makes you care about the characters. It was published by Hampton Roads in 2003, which now seems like such a long, long time ago. On a whim, I checked the publisher’s web site, and most of their books are of the non-fiction variety, so this books seemed like an anomaly. The book’s no longer listed in their web site, so it must be out of print. There’s no way of knowning how many copies were printed, which is a shame (to collectors).
Virgin is another anomaly by Wilson, a religious thriller. Original released under his wife’s maiden name, it vanished with no apparent audience. In 2007 Borderlands Press published a signed, limited edition (350 copies numbered and signed, of which mine is number 302), under Wilson’s own name. I pulled the trigger on buy this one by chance, after having finished reading The Fifth Harmonic. Wilson said he wanted to try new things, so I thought that I should try to read new things as well. Paperback copies are still available from Borderlands Press, but the hardcover is long out of print and available only on the secondary market.
By my current count, there are six individual novels by Wilson, and four collaborations with other writers, that I lack. I suppose I need to start looking for these as well.
