Recently I ordered a pair of Centipede Press books. They were listed together, and as I’d considered buying one or the other at some point, I thought it was a good opportunity to get both. Synchronicity, I guess. In terms of pricing, one book was priced extremely low, so it might be an issue of the publisher clearing inventory. In some cases Centipede Press books fetch astronomical sums (mostly on the secondary market, but sometimes from the publisher, viz. the Dune books. Yowza!). In other cases (far fewer, I suspect), books don’t sell quickly enough, and so the price drops until inventory clears. In any case, peruse the Centipede Press web site and you’ll find almost all books published six months or more ago are out of print.
Rough Justice is a collection of stories by Steve Rasnic Tem. Tem is a noted horror writer, with ten novels and mote than twenty collections to his credit. I checked my collection and found only one book with his stories, the first Night Visions collection from Dark Harvest, published in 1984. Then again, my horror collection is somewhat slim, at least compared to SF, fantasy, and mystery books. Still, I was somewhat surprised that his book was currently priced as low as it was.
The other book is The Horrible and Others, by the French writer, Guy de Maupassant. As far as Maupassant goes, who lived from 1850 to 1893, I’m familiar only with the name, not the person or the fiction. Both books come in a signed and unsigned version (although the signatures in the Maupassant book are by the editor and illustrator, as Maupassant hasn’t yet risen from the dead to put pen to paper). I ended up getting the unsigned copies of both books; I own only a handful of Centipede Press books, mostly Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and Gray Mouser series, one book by Robert Silverberg, and finally Michael Shea’s monumental collection, The Autopsy and Others. (I did buy a couple of Bram Stoker books for my wife, who is a huge Stoker fan.) Aside from the Shea book, all others are unsigned. I’m content with that choice.
According to an online resource, “[Maupassant] wrote 300 short stories, six novels, three travel books, and one volume of verse.” Supposedly he’s considered a father of the modern short story. I would think that honor falls to Edgar Allan Poe, who died one year before Maupassant was born. Perhaps Maupassant perfected the short story, but he’s by no means the father of the short story. It seems every critic who focuses on a particular writer forgets anyone prior to that writer. If anyone is the father of the short story, it’s Poe.
Both books have quite nice wrap-around dust jackets, as is par for the typical stunning production quality from Centipede Press. The Rasnic Tem book collects over 40 short stories (and some are quite short), spanning the years 1983 to 2020.
The Maupassant book contains an illuminating introduction by editor S.T. Joshi, over 30 stories, and a bibliography. Until I saw this book I wasn’t aware that Maupassant had written any “weird” tales, but there are supposedly some classics in that genre within this collection.
Anyone interested in weird fiction or classic fantasy fiction should check out Centipede Press. Some of the books are pricy, and some cater to different tastes, but these are books that are both a pleasure to read and a pleasure to own.
Recently I happened to be in England, and while in England, if one cares about books one must visit Waterstones. This is a chain of bookstores, present in most medium to large towns, and a delight to book nerds. Alas, not all Waterstones are alike. Some stores have separate sections for crime, or horror. Other store seem to absorb some crime and mystery book into their fiction section, and ignore horror altogether. In my foray into various Waterstones (Reading, Bath, London—-Islington and Hampstead), I came away not so much with books in my current focus of the crime/mystery genre, but a handful of books by Eric Ambler.
A few years ago my father sent me an Ambler novel, The Mask of Dimitrios. This was a spy novel (or thriller, depending on your genre definition), set in Europe in the 1930s. The 1930s is a favorite decade of mine, being between the two world wars. Since my father lives in England, the book was a Penguin Classics edition, with a striking cover of a blood-red harbor and river.
After reading it I immediately sought out other books by Ambler. However, in my local bookstores here in the middle-of-nowhere-USA I found only one book, Epitaph for a Spy. Online, there are a few other books. The US cover, to put it mildly, was horrible, but who cares about the cover? (Yes, for some reason, I do care about book covers…)
In England, in Reading’s Waterstones, I found three books, all by Penguin Classics and with striking covers. Also, in the shelf, were the two books that I already owned. At the time I didn’t remember that my Mask of Dimitrios copy was the same as the one in the store. Still, as I tend to resist buying books that I already own, I left them on the shelf. Then, a few days later in another Waterstones in Bath, three other titles. In other words, I returned home with six new Ambler books, and when I looked at the two that i already owned, I found that I had a nice little collection of seven Penguin Classic editions of Ambler’s novels, with just one outlier.
The covers by Penguin are brilliant, striking! Perusing Waterstones‘ shelves I found several other Penguin Classics editions by other authors, and the book nerd in me wanted to buy them all. I wanted to start a collection based on all their books. Crazy, I know, but just like their older orange editions, these newer editions with pale green spines beckon to collectors, to book nerds. “Buy me,” they said. “Read me, and care for me.” Alas, I had limited space in my suitcase, and only picked up a couple of other Penguin Classic books. This time, at least.
Some of the Ambler books include introductions, while some dive right into the story. What’s the better option? I’m not sure. The Mask of Dimitrios is supposedly a classic. The others? I don’t yet know if they fit that bill, but I know I look forward to reading them all, regardless of thrills or disappointments. I only wish the US publishers had the same panache in terms of design as Penguin.
So, if you happen to find yourself in England in a Waterstones, check out any of the Penguin Classic books. You’ll want to buy them, and you might just discover some great fiction, when fiction was great.
For a while, I thought this was a lost/cursed book that I would never add to my library. Earlier this year I was in Atlanta, where I hiked part of the Appalachian Trail and attended a work conference. On the way to the trail, I stopped by a used bookstore. The sole reason for the side trip to this bookstore? On their web site they had listed this book, published by Dark Harvest Press in 1989, for sale for $50. When I arrived there, and asked for the book, they were unable to find the copy. Someone apparently had already bought it, and they never removed the listing. I looked around the store, and although they had a few other interesting books, I walked away without purchasing anything, as my mind was on that book, and that book alone.
Since that failed opportunity I occasionally checked online sites, such as Abebooks and eBay, but prices for decent copies exceeded what I cared to pay, or the books looked in debatable shape. Then, in August, I found a copy listed at the starting bid of $24.99. I placed a bid for the book for $25, expecting someone to swoop in shortly before the end of the auction and outbid me, as has happened in the past. This time it didn’t happen. The auction ended with my bid as the highest one. However, for several days there was no announcement, just a “sold” notice on the listing page. I figured that the seller had been disappointed that there only was a single bid, and that one bid was just one cent above the initial listing. On the third day, a notice that I was the winning bid. I paid the amount listed, plus shipping, and sat back to wait to see what would happen.
After I paid the bid amount, plus the shipping charge, I heard nothing. Usually there’s an email that the item is about to ship, and then it had shipped. In this case: silence. Then, a week later, a notice that the book shipped. Another week passed, and the book arrived. It’s not perfect, not by a long shot. There’s a strange smell to it, the edges of the papers are dirty, and there’s a slight wobble to the book. But, the worst part is that the protective cover had been glued to the book. I only noticed this when I tried to remove the dust jacket, and heard the tear as the glue pulled off part of the book. This sound made me cringe, as it felt like the book was being destroyed. I do not understand people who ruin books like this: gluing the cover to the book, stamping or writing in books, gluing anything inside the book. For a brief moment I placed this book next to my other oversized Dark Harvest books. Then, worried the smell would infect those books, I moved it elsewhere. I guess for $25 in this day and age, you can’t expect perfection. So, a reading copy this will remain.
I already owned 31 other Dark Harvest books, though this is not a complete collection. Dark Harvest was a small press active from the mid-1980s to the late 1990s. Initially they published mostly horror and SF books, a mix of novels, collections, and anthologies (including nine books in the series of anthologies under the name, “Night Visions”). The Night Visions books usually included two well-known writers, plus one new writer. Authors featured in this series include Stephen King, Clive Barker, George R. R. Martin, F. Paul Wilson, Dan Simmons, and others. Most of the books are in a regular size format, but they also published a novel and two major collections in an oversized format. The novel: Dan Simmons’ Carrion Comfort; the two collections: 50-year retrospectives on the works of Fritz Leiber and Isaac Asimov. Call it fantasy vs. science fiction. Many years ago I acquired the Fritz Leiber collection, shortly after it was published. A year ago I picked up Carrion Comfort, and only the Asimov collection remained from these oversized editions. Why the long gaps? Leiber is a favorite author of mine, and I’m fairly certain I bought this book at cover price. I already owned the Simmons book in paperback, and for years debated whether or not I really needed to spend the money for the Dark Harvest book, until I finally caved. And the Asimov? Well, perhaps I’m slowly becoming a completist, and feel the need or desire to have all the Dark Harvest books…
There are still still a few Dark Harvest books that I haven’t yet added to my collection: a Dean Koontz novel, collections of stories by David Brin, George R. R. Martin, John Varley, the third (and rarest) Night Visions anthology, and a handful others. It’s been a while since I read anything by Asimov, but now I have the opportunity to go discover (again) an overview of his work. Given the issues with this book—the glued cover—I likely will need to look for a better copy at some point.
Although I’ve completed many running events/races in the past decade, I’d never heard of Parkruns until earlier this year (2024). Parkruns are running events (not really races) put on by volunteers in a variety of locations. These are usually held on Saturdays, and in parks (hence the name), and open to anyone (although they prefer that you register so that you can get official results). Started around twenty years ago in England, they proliferated in that country quickly.
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Meanwhile, in Texas, there are three Parkruns. The closest one to where I live is a three hour drive.
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The first time I heard of Parkruns was while watching some running videos on YouTube. One of these videos was about a professional runner’s first Parkrun, in Reading, UK. I’d been to Reading a couple of times, so that immediately piqued my interest. After watching the video, all of a sudden a series of Parkrun videos popped up as video selections (that’s YouTube for you: watch a few seconds of any video, and the next thing you know is that every third video listed is a variation of that theme). When an opportunity arose this summer where I’d be in England, and by coincidence, in Reading during a Saturday, I immediately thought, “What if I ran in that Parkrun?” Before my trip I registered online, which is a requirement, listing my home Parkrun as the one that was a three-hour drive away.
Friday, the day before the Parkrun. I walked the nearly two-mile path from my hotel to the start of the Reading Parkrun. The start takes place on a vast floodplain next to the River Thames. In the river kids swam and cavorted on paddle boards. People walked on the trail, and a vast number of geese occupied the greenspace that made up the starting area. Now that I knew the route to the start, I planned to jog there early the next day. The event begins at 9am. Unsure of what to expect, I started out from the hotel at 7:30. When I arrived at the starting area twenty minutes later, the vast field was empty. After a moment’s indecision, I decided to jog along what I thought would be the course.
At first, it was open grass, littered with goose crap. Then I found a narrow path trail, which after a while turned into a gravel trail. This trail ran next to the River Thames, with a side path or two branching off to the right. After a while I reached the Sonning locks. More than twenty years ago I had stayed at the Bull Inn, in Sonning (briefly famous for a one-time nearby resident actor now rich beyond belief), and on a morning run had approached the locks from the opposite direction. At the locks I turned around and jogged slowly back to the start. Once there, I saw some volunteers starting to assemble. The time was 8:30am, and a few other people started to show up. I remained at a distance, not sure of protocol. Another runner showed up, and we started chatting.
This other runner was originally from South Africa, and now resided in Reading. He told me that he was primarily a triathlete, and was planning to make this a training run. He talked me through the Parkrun process, and as the start time approached we walked over to the starting area. For first-timers there’s a brief orientation. Apparently there’s also a tradition to ask about “visitors” and where they’re from. I was hesitant to list my Texas origin, and when the assembled runners clapped as another person listed Glasgow as his home city, I decided to remain silent. He seemed excited to be the most distant visitor, and, as it was my first Parkrun, I didn’t want to stand out.
Everyone lined up for the start. My new friend had mentioned a goal of 28 minutes. I had no plan, and no idea of how I would run, as it was my first 5K in almost a year. Everyone lined up for the start. The wide line quickly funneled into the narrow trail. The course continued along the trail, then branched off to the right. It then looped twice, and returned to the start.
I hung back at the start, then slowly moved past some runners. After the first loop, I settled into a steady pace. I caught up with the former South African, then stayed slightly behind him as we started the second loop. With 1K to go, he realized I was there. I moved up next to him, and we chatted briefly as we covered the remaining distance. Unlike me, he had started fast and then slowed down. As we re-entered the grassy section toward the finish area, another runner drew alongside us. I encouraged him to keep going, and we finished one-two-three. Of the 239 runners I ended up in 75th place, with a time of 25 minutes and 46 seconds. This was several minutes off my 5K average, but I didn’t care. I was happy to finish my first Parkrun, and first real 5K in 10 years. I jogged the two miles back to the hotel feeling quite happy.
One week later, I found myself in Dublin, Ireland. I looked up Parkruns nearby, and found one almost the same distance away from the hotel as when I was in Reading. This was the Fairview Parkrun. Saturday morning I put on my (now stinky) running clothes and headed northeast through the streets of Dublin. A steady rain fell as I ran, and I wondered whether anyone would show up in the rain. I need not have worried, for as I reached the park the rain stopped. A trio of women in running clothes entered the park in front of me. I asked them if they knew the starting location. They asked the same of me, so I assumed we all were first timers—-visitors. In England the Parkruns start at 9am. In Dublin they all start at 9:30am. The trio of women decided this was too late for them, and turned around. Meanwhile, I found a volunteer putting out orange cones for the race course, and learned from her the location of the start. As I was early, I walked slowly to that area.
While waiting for the start, I chatted with another Norwegian. He was far younger, so I didn’t think I’d see him again (as expected, he finished nearly five minutes faster than me). There were fewer runners at the Fairview Parkrun than at Reading; many veteran runners apparently show up less than ten minutes before the starting time. The starting area was between two trees on a narrow path, so having fewer runners was a good thing. I wasn’t the most distant visitor; there was someone from Australia, and a couple from South Africa. The course entailed three loops though part of the park, with one slight incline, as well as a section on grass. Again, I had no plan, as was I just there for the experience.
We started off quickly, as the first section was slightly downhill. The rain hadn’t turned the grassy section into too slick of a surface, but I tried to keep to a slow and steady pace. To my shock, as we reached the first mile, I found my pace nearly 30 seconds faster than expected. The second mile proved slower, as I paid the price of the fast start. Each mile was slower than the last, which isn’t ideal if you want to try to have a negative split. On the last loop, my mind kept telling me stop, to walk, to quit, but I kept on running, gasping for air. In the end, I finished almost a minute faster than my Reading Parkrun, which I did not anticipate. I think the fact that most of it was on a paved path vs. grass and gravel made a difference. Also, I started faster in Fairview, perhaps due to the initial downhill portion. Although the end result was three minutes slower than my best 5K time, I didn’t consider this as a race. It was an event, an experience. After the race ended, I had slightly less than an hour to make it to an appointment that morning, so I immediately started to jog back to the hotel so that I could shower and change and get to that appointment.
Parkruns are great. I so wish there was one in my city, instead of the closest one being in Houston, almost a three hour drive away. I have no idea if I’ll ever make it back to another Parkrun. Instead, I guess that I need to enter some more 5K races, and pay the $40 or more for that privilege. To have the opportunity to show up on a Saturday and run a 5K with other runners is invaluable for any runner. It’s amazing that Parkuns are free, put on by volunteers, and actually provide results. Thanks again to all the volunteers in Reading and Fairview (and everywhere else). I so wish I could run those courses again, and wonder when I’ll ever be able to run Parkrun #3.
