Lost worlds and ports of call

Month: April 2026

K. W. Jeter’s Infernal Devices

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

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

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

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

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.

Dean Koontz as Leigh Nichols

Under the pseudonym of Leigh Nichols, Dean R. Koontz published several paperback novels in the late 1970s through the early 1980s. Then, starting with The House of Thunder in 1988, Dark Harvest turned these books into hardcover editions with Koontz’s own name on the cover. Koontz wrote many other novels under different names before he struck it big in the horror/suspense field on the level with Stephen King; his first best-selling novel, I believe, was Strangers (1996). By the time these Dark Harvest editions rolled around, Koontz was on the bestseller lists almost as regularly as King. Now, several years after the Dark Harvest books originally were published, I’ve slowly acquired editions of all the five Dark Harvest Dean R. Koontz books. Many of those pre-Koontz-named novels appeared ripe for a reissue. Hardcover editions were a nice way to honor that legacy, as well as give burgeoning Koontz fans nice editions. Hardback books tend to be more durable than paperback editions.

The Dean Koontz books from Dark Harvest — you would think, with the template in place, maybe they could be consistent in design on the spines. Instead, we have four of the five books with “Koontz” in horizontal text, and one with “Dean R. Koontz” in larger font and vertical.

Shadowfires (Dark Harvest, 1990) was the first Koontz book I ever read. Since then I bought a few mass-market hardcovers and paperbacks of his books, though I don’t consider myself a Koontz collector. My copy of this Dark Harvest book is far from perfect. The dust jacket is slightly torn due to improper handling and the fact that I’ve owned it for a couple of decades without ever adding any Mylar protective cover. For many years I stuck it with my other Koontz books behind a layer of other books, in an almost forgotten bookshelf. Then, a couple of years ago, I came across some other Dark Harvest Koontz editions, and I thought, “Why not?”

So, from a single online dealer, I bought a trio of cheap Koontz Dark Harvest books: The Key to Midnight, The House of Thunder, and The Eyes of Darkness. Of those three books, The Key to Midnight (1989) is my only pristine copy. Both The House of Thunder (1988) and The Eyes of Darkness (1989) have light foxing on the top and bottom edges, despite arriving still in their original shrinkwrap. Maybe that’s the issue, and the foxing happened due to dampness and improper storage? At any rate, I was quite disappointed.

I did, however, in 2025 read all three newly acquired books. This took place many years after I’d read Shadowfires. I came away with the impression that all these Nichols/Koontz novels follow a formula: they feature a female and male protagonist thrust into certain situations that upend their lives. In Shadowfires it’s an ex-wife haunted and hounded by her former husband, yet aided by a new boyfriend. In The House of Thunder, it’s a woman haunted by an earlier accident who finds herself in the midst of a mind control experiment and who, along the way, gains a new boyfriend/admirer. In The Eyes of Darkness, a supposed dead child comes back to haunt a mother, who is also supported by a new boyfriend. With The Key to Midnight, a mind-control experiment shunts a woman off to Japan, only to have her memories unlocked by a (sort-of) random encounter with a detective, who also becomes her boyfriend. Maybe, because I read three of the novels in quick succession, and then went back and re-read Shadowfires, it just seemed that each novel followed that same thread.

Then, there’s The Servants of Twilight (1988). This novel was the last of the Koontz Dark Harvest books that I acquired, in March 2026. From online descriptions of the book, this is supposedly the best of the five Leigh Nichols books. Yet, there on the dust-jacket, in the section trying to hype of the book, are the words: “Christine…and the one man who’s risked everything to help…are running from the hounds of death.” Well, it’s the same theme as the other four, isn’t it, Mr. Nichols? Anyway, I’ve yet to read this book, so maybe it will surprise me.

© 2026 Anders Monsen

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑

css.php