Jules Verne (1828 – 1905) was a French writer. His most famous stories are Journey to the Center of the Earth (1864), Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas (1870), and Around the World in Eighty Days (1872), all classic “science fiction” books. Back then, the term science fiction didn’t exist, but he’s since been hailed as one of the first science fiction writers. I’m not sure if I’ve ever read the orignal books, though I know the stories well. Somehere in my library I do have a copy of A Journey to the Center of the Earth.
Borderlands Press, continuing it’s mission to publish stories from past masters of horror, fantasy, and science fiction, recently published A Little Blue Book of Icy Perils, which collects three of Verne’s stories, plus a (bonus) sonnet. Edited by Tom Connair, and limited to 500 signed and numbered copies, it joins the ever-growing stack of such books in my library. The copyright date states 2024, but I believe it was offered for sale in early 2025. At least, that’s when I saw it offered for sale, and then bought a copy.
I much prefer the rougher cloth bound versions of these books, at least compared to the smooth bindings. The various bindings and sizes means that these books aren’t 100% uniform, but it is what it is. The series continues, at least for now. If I were the editor in charge, I might pick other writers, but the fact that I’m not the editor in charge means that I’m always surprised, and that’s a good thing!
I also learned from the introduction, that there was no balloon ride in Around the World in Eight Days. My perception of this book had been clouded by various movie versions, where balloon rides were de rigeur. It was strange, then, to read in the first paragraph of the first story about balloon rides. C’est la vie. Verne these days, then, is more well known for cinematic interpretations than his actual words. Quelle surprise.
As a long-time fan of Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser books, when Centipede Press started re-releasing the books in hardcover, I had to have them. Leiber published seven books in the series, starting with Swords and Deviltry and ending with The Knight and Knave of Swords. As Leiber aged, so did his heroes. They endured loss, hardship, delight, love, pain, and injuries along their adventurous lives.
Robin Wayne Bailey, an accomplished writer in his own right, was asked by Leiber to write a book with these two characters. He finished one of three contracted books, but various publishers involved with the books folded, and so there’s only one completed book. Swords Against the Shadowland was published in April 2025 by Centipede Press in a signed an unsigned version. As all my copies are unsigned, as is this one. The book comes with a gorgeous wrap-around cover. After a brief introduction from the author, we dive right into the story. Interestingly, it’s a sequel of sorts to the first book in the series, Swords and Deviltry. The pair are transported back to Lankhmar, a city they vowed never to re-visit after the tragic events they experienced there in the first book.
Centipede Press publishes a wide variety of books. These books are always professionally done. The exterior, the binding, and the interior are carefully crafted. The contents are comprehensive, and illustrated throughout. The books are virtually works of art, more so than a book you’d read. Most of their books sell out quickly, and subsequently fetch a premium on the secondary market. In my case, I bought the first book direct from the publisher back in 2017. Each year since, I’ve plonked down my coin for the next book. I own the first six in Ace paperback editions, and the seventh as a hardcover, but to have these is a crown jewel sort of feeling.
Joe R. Lansdale has written (and continues to write) a ton of books. I buy them as I find them, which these days isn’t often.
Radiant Apples is a novella published by Subterranean Press in 2021. I found this book online, listed for $20 plus tax and shipping. It’s a slim book—in effect, the kind of book you can read in one sitting. The main character is Nat Love, who previously appeared in the novel, Paradise Sky. My copy is number 301 of 1,500 signed and numbered copies, originally published for $40 in 2021.
Nat Love is now in his 50s, a porter on the Pullman railway in north-east Texas. A train robbery and murder sets him on a quest, and he recruits an old friend as he chases these robbers into Oklahoma from Texas. It appears to be set in 1919, but feels like an old Western from the previous century. Lansdale tones down some of his usual banter, but not by much. Overall it’s a good read, and I think it would be cool to see more stories with Nat Love. That might be tough, however, as between Paradise Sky and this book he got married, had kids, and gave up much of his old life. A glance at Lansdale bibliography told me there were some other Nat Love stories, which led me to the next acquisition.
Fishing for Dinosaurs, also published by Subterranean Press (2020), is a collection of five novellas. It includes “Black Hat Jack,” an earlier Nat Love novella. “Black Hat Jack” previously was published as a separate book (just like Radiant Apples) way back in 2014 by Subterranean Press. It’s cannibalized into this collection (along with another Lansdale novella that also came out by Sub Press), which saved me from having to hunt down the older novella.
Each of the stories is introduced by another writer: Robin Hobb for “Black Hat Jack,” plus Poppy Z. Brite, Richard Chizmar, David J. Schow, and Norman Partridge for the other stories. My copy is number 660 out of 2,500 signed and numbered books, also bought for $20 online, as I’m a few years late from the original publication event, and the book is sold out from the publisher. An edition of 2,500 seems like a lot for a “signed, limited edition,” but, as I care more about the stories than the rarity of the book, I don’t mind. However, I do wish I’d known about it sooner, as I feel guilty that Lansdale isn’t getting a cent from my purchase.
In terms of the other stories, “The Ape Man’s Brother” was published as an eBook and hardcover edition by Subterranean Press. “Prisoner 489″ was published by Dark Regions Press as a lettered edition, a limited edition hardcover, and trade paperback. From what I can tell, the other two stories—”Sixty-Eight Barrels on Treasure Lake,” and the title story—are collected here for the first time, though “Fishing for Dinosaurs” first appeared in 2014 in Limbus Inc. Book II. I may be wrong, as although I own 44 Lansdale books, this is but a fraction of his output.
From the introduction by Lansdale, I learned there are some other Nat Love stories floating around somewhere, and maybe they will turn up in a collection, and maybe I’ll eventually read them.
Tom Monteleone and F. Paul Wilson are both noted horror/sf/suspense writers. Between 2013 and 2018 they co-wrote a Young Adult trilogy under the aegis of Nocturnia. These books take place in an alternate reality inhabited by “monsters”—vampires, werewolves, trolls, zombies, and more. In Nocturnia, humans are rare, treated as slaves or food. Into this place are transported two young humans, who get sucked up in an inter-dimensional tornado while looking for their missing older brother. In Nocturnia they meet various monsters (some good and some some decidedly bad), along with other humans, including Amelia Earhart and Ambrose Bierce, both of whom also were transported there from Humania, as our earth is known. Will the siblings make it back to “the real world?” Will they get eaten or killed by the various monsters? You need to read all three books to learn their fate.
I bought the first book some time last year, as part of my ongoing effort to collect of all F. Paul Wilson’s books. This year I went ahead and picked up the second and third books. All three were published as a joint effort by Borderlands Press and Gauntlet Press. The three hardcovers that I have are all signed/limited editions; prices are not listed in the books, but I think I paid a fair price for each one.
Strangely, the three books have different print runs: The first volume was published in 350 copies, the second 300, and the third 500. While my copy of the first volume is #138 of 350, the second and third are both #69 of those respective numbers. Also, while the covers of the second and third books look similar, they diverge wildly from the cover of the first book. Granted, the cover of the first book was somewhat bizarre, almost as if a child had drawn something for a school project. The second and third covers appear somewhat more professional. Family Secrets, the second book in the series, list a final proofreading credit, but this person missed the copyright page, which mentions the first book in the series, Definitely Not Kansas; this was fixed in the third book, The Secret Ones, as it mentions itself (not the only time Borderlands Press has failed in proofreading something, and in one place the writers use “there” instead of “their” which is almost unforgivable). Per a comment in the third book, chapbook was published, called Secret Ingredient. So far I’ve not seen this chapbook listed anywhere. Is it real? I don’t know.
These books are intended as young adult novels, so the protagonists are young kids. To move the plot along, there are side characters who vary in age and act as foils, mentors, antagonists, love interests, etc. Both the first and second books end on cliffhangers, but that’s not unknown for YA series. At times I think I see which writer is at work, but then again, I’ve read a ton of F. Paul Wilson books, and almost nothing by Monteleone, so I have no sense of the latter’s writing voice or style. I do wonder, in this parallel universe, how all the characters speak English, and how the Nocturnians know certain terms than are unique to American culture, and there only are two scientists in the entire culture in this universe that’s almost a parallel version of our own. But, I guess in cases like this one must suspend all disbelief.
Enchanted Rock is a strange geological phenomenon outside Fredericksburg, Texas. As a State Park, it’s a heavily visited place, as it’s close to the cities between San Antonio and Austin. Since 1988, when I first arrived in Texas, I’ve visited this park several times, and passed through or visited Fredericksburg even more times than I can count.
However, the last time I climbed the Rock was close to 17 years ago, when I took my brother there. He was visiting from Norway. We rented a house in Fredericksburg in winter and climbed up the Rock on a windy winter day. On the way back to San Antonio we did some wine tasting, and fortunately had someone else as a driver.
Credit Texas State Parks
The hike to the summit is almost straight up. There is no trail once you get on the rocky surface. The views from the top as you look over the Hill Country are spectacular. It was a cloudy day when I was there, which at the end of April meant it wasn’t too hot.
This time, I went by myself, and decided to mix in some hiking around the park. All the other times that I’ve been there I’ve only gone up the Rock, as I’ve been with small kids or non-hikers. On weekends, it’s a popular destination, so I had to make a reservation online. The trip takes around an hour and a half from my house. The last 20 miles are on a narrow winding road, and soon I was part of a convoy stuck behind a nervous driver. My reservation was for an entry at 10:30am, and I planned my trip almost to the minute. I arrived at the park entrance at 10:28am. The ranger on duty took my reservation printout, marked something on it and returned it along with a map. I parked at the first available spot, which wasn’t the smartest thing. I’d planned on hiking the Loop Trail, which wound around the outside of the Rock for about five miles. The start of the trail was not close to where I parked, so I had to walk on the park road a bit to get to the trail. Never having attempted any hiking in the park, I simply went for the first open spot.
The park has several campsites near the entrance, as well as primitive sites around a mile or two away from the main parking areas. I’ve tried to book some of those sites in the Fall, but without luck. You have to book them far in advance during the cooler months, and I tended to wait until it was too late. I carried a pack with water, snacks, and some emergency gear, just in case. Water’s important in the Texas heat.
For the Loop Trail I went clock-wise, starting at what could be considered the nine-o’clock mark. The trail itself is well marked, wide, and mostly made of grushed gravel. There are places here and there where heavy rains have carved a deeper path, but for the most part it’s an easy walk. At one point, the trail diverged. I took the path that went past the Walnut Springs primitive camp sites, as the map indicated it would hook up with the main trail again. In the first few spots of that primitive camping area I saw some tents, but also many open spots. At the end of the camp site area the trail narrowed to a single track path. I was all alone here, and walked in silence. Aside from some lizards and buzzards I saw nothing on this spur. The trail rejoined the Loop trail near Moss Lake campsites. I didn’t see the lake itself, and went on, meeting some other hikers along the way.
As the trail neared the main area of the park, it narrowed to a single track again. I passed some hikers, several who had dogs on leashes. Here the path was rocky, and you had to watch your step. At the end of the Loop trail I paused for a snack, then shouldered my pack again and headed for the Summit Trail.
There were many more hikers on the Summit Trail, as anyone who comes to Enchanted Rock comes here to climb the Rock. It’s just under a mile from parking lot to summit. The rock is bare, pockmarked with holes of varying sizes. Some of these contained water. At times there was some vegetation, but as a photo shows it’s mostly a big rock. What you don’t see is on the other side, where slabs of the rock have fractured and slid down, or are in the process of sliding down. The Rock is slowly disintegrating. I turned and headed back down, then drove into Fredericksburg, where I had a beer and Wienerschnitzel at a biergarten. I walked along main street first, which is mainly shops now, with few places to eat. How the place has changed. Then I left town, passing winery after winery. It’s no longer the place I remember, but at least the Rock is there still.
Just remember, if you plan to visit on the weekend, make your reservation first.
Norwegian writer Karl Ove Knausgaard was apparently all the rage a few years ago, with his multi-volume series of novels under the aegis of “My Struggle.” To date, six volumes has been published in this series. He’s also written other books, but is best known for the autobiographical series of books under the heading, My Struggle.
Even as a (former) Norwegian, I hesitated buying/reading his books. He’s too contemporary, too fashionable, I thought, each time I came across his name.
Still, someone I know kept asking me every time we met (not very often, but maybe every two years) whether I’d read his books. I guess that, as a Norwegian, it was somehow assumed that I would have read them. Each time, I replied that, “No, I haven’t read any of his books.” It’s not that I haven’t seen his books in bookstores., or been aware of him. The books were there, though not always in the right order, when I I saw them. Still, I hesitated. Maybe I didn’t like his international success (compared to other Norwegian writers that I thought deserved success). Maybe there were other reasons; the book title hewed too closely to another, more infamous, German title, for one.
Recently, however, I came across two of Knausgaard’s books in a used bookstore, and thought, “Why not?” So, I bought them. One of these books was the first volume in his “My Struggle” series. The other, called Winter, was part of another series based around seasons. Knausgaard’s only a couple of years younger than me, yet he’s a prolific and famous author, while I’ve written only some early-draft crime novels. In other words, there is nothing to compare us, unless you contrast success and nothingness. Winter starts with musings on an unknown and future child (he’s apparently not just prolific, but fertile as well). I set this book aside. I might need to find those other season-related books first.
Meanwhile, the first volume of My Struggle begins with Knausgaard musing on death and dead people. This was unexpected, at least to me, as I thought it would start with his own birth. Then again, after talking about dead people and how we treat them. he transitions into a story about himself at the age of eight, having seen a newscast about a Norwegian fishing vessel capsizing, with those on board drowning. He highlights his own reaction to this event, as well as his interactions with his father. That’s as far as I’ve made it at the moment.
The book begins in 1976. Knausgaard was eight years old at that time. In 1976 I was slightly older, about to leave Norway for a second stint in Zambia. I remember this year vividly. At the of age nine in 1976, this might have been was my “starting” moment in terms of memory, more so than at age eight like Knausgaard. So much happened to me in 1976, a major year in my life. Although I also was in Norway at that time, I don’t recall that same shipwreck incident; in my case there were more personal events that I remember (school, location, a first kiss, the apartment, a so-called friend inviting me somewhere and then eating dinner in front of me, as well as many other things that seared into my memory from that year). Maybe, it’s because we didn’t have a TV, maybe it’s because I saw life differently that time. I certainly didn’t think about death then, not for many years. I thought about life, about where I lived, what I did, and what I saw.
Why is the book called “My Struggle?” I don’t know, at least not yet. He seems to to fear his father at that age, something I don’t think I ever experienced. His father seems to come across as strict, almost tyrannical, despite being a teacher. I think my father at that same age was a little distant, but nowhere near the same as Knausgaard’s father. We’re less than two years apart in age (Knausgaard and I), yet so very different. While I bounced between countries and cultures, he existed only in Norway. Having only sampled a few pages, maybe I’m being too judgmental. Again, what’s the struggle? You had a great life, Karl Ove. You didn’t get dragged to a foreign country. You didn’t change your identity. You’re Norwegian, through and through, not someone split between cultures and continents.
Anyway, I guess I need to read more in that book now, to gain a better insight into why he’s famous. Then again, there are five more volumes to dredge through, if I want to know more. I still don’t get it.
Lost Maples State Natural Area is a state park in Central Texas. In the Fall, people flock here to see the changing colors of the maple trees; maple trees in Texas is a rarity, apparently .
I’ve tried a couple of times to reserve a trip here in November, with no luck. That’s the time the colors change, but I’ve not been able to secure a day pass or a camping pass then. So, on the spur of the moment, I drove two hours from San Antonio to this location in mid-April, to see the park in Spring, instead of in the Fall. Why not, I thought, as it’s still “relatively” cool for Texas.
The first question from the range ranger in the check in HQ when I arrived was, “Do you have a reservation?” I did not, but apparently it was not a busy time, and so I was allowed in the park and do a day trip. I am not sure if Monkey Rock looks like a monkey. Go figure. Maybe it’s the angle.
There are two main trails—East Trail and West Trail. At some point along the West Trail, there is a 2.5 mile loop called the West Loop (more like a lollipop trail), to add more miles or find primitive camping spots. I parked my car near the East Trail trailhead at around 10am. The temps were already at 70 F. I switched into hiking boots, strapped on my daypack, and started up the trail. I encountered only a few people here, some who had camped the night prior, some who were day hiking, or heading to a campsite.
The East Trail starts easy, then hits a steep uphill ascent after about a mile. Switchbacks are unknown in this park, and the trail to the top goes almost straight up for half a mile. Once at the top, there’s a nice easy walk along the ridge. I saw a Boy Scouts troop (can we still say that, these days?) taking a break at an overlook. Were they training for Philmont? I didn’t ask.
The descent was rocky. I paused at one point as a snake crossed my path. I don’t think it was venomous, but I didn’t ask it. I didn’t see any rattlers, and the snake didn’t pause to warn me. The path from the East Trail connects near a pond to the West Trail, so I switched to that trail, and headed west. At one point, there is a sign to the West Loop. I figured, “why not?” and took that path. After half a mile or so, another uphill. I met a few hikers, and returned to the West Trail. Then, alone, I took this trail back to the start. Only, it wasn’t the start. There are two parking lots, and I stopped at the wrong one first. I turned around and found the trail back to my parking lot, and so, almost 10 miles (but not quite) of hiking later I completed almost all the trails in this park; since I took the West Loop I missed one section, but it was a separate return to the trailhead and I wanted a longer hike.
Along the way, the temperatures surged into the 90s (F). I bought lots of water, enough snacks, and so the hike wasn’t too bad. How is this in the Fall? I don’t know. In the summer months, I would skip this hike. Much of it is under trees, but there are sections in the sun. In the sun in the summer you’ll see temps above 100F, and that’s no fun at all.
The drive from my house took two hours, with one stretch slowed to a crawl by two motorcycles too cautious to drive above 45 mph in a 65 mph zone (not to mention a delay caused by construction). Once behind the motorcycles, the routes curved, rose up and down, and for nearly 20 miles there was no way to pass these idiots. Finally, one tiny straight section appeared, and I took it. On the way back, some sports cars had no issue passing me while I was going 65. If they had to deal with those motorcyclists I’m sure they would have tried to pass them around a bend. In my case, I was at 65 and not 40, but I guess that didn’t matter here.
And so, I think I’ve visited almost all state parked near where I live. Now I have to expand that radius. In Texas, two hours is a short trip, I guess.
I recently missed out on a bid for a set of nearly a dozen of Charles de Lint’s Subterranean Press books. Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing, since I already owned five out of the books in that lot. Still, I’ll admit that it was somewhat disappointing, as the rest were ones that I really wanted.
I always have a hard limit on auctions, which means that I lose out on quite a few of them. I guess that now I need to acquire those books one by one instead. However, looking at de Lint’s bibliography, I doubt that I’ll ever be able to acquire all his books, so I’ll take them as I find them. Then again, I did find a pair recently at decent prices, so here goes…
First up, The Onion Girl. Published in 2009 by Subterranean Press, and limited to 500 signed/numbered copies plus 26 lettered copies. It’s a hefty book, clocking in at just over 500 pages. The cover is gorgeous, yet the story hits at darkness. I recently read another book that featured the same main character, so at some point I know I’ll be drawn into this book.
Next, Seven Sisters Wild. Another Subterranean Press book, this one published in 2002. This is the signed hardcover edition, with signatures from both de Lint and illustrator, Charles Vess. It’s a novella, only 152 pages long, and beautifully illustrated by Vess.
All in all, this still leaves at least 20 of de Lint’s books that I don’t have, compared to the 32 that I have. That first number’s probably fuzzy, based on an old bibliography. Still, 20 seems like a massive number. Many of these books are hard to find, or when listed somewhere, fetch premium prices. A few of the so-called “missing” books I have in beat up paperback editions. I do want better copies, though. Others, I don’t have, and want to read.
Sometimes, though, I think you have to be in the right mindset, or the right age or the right timeframe, to read certain books. I recently re-read Moonheart and liked it, but when I tried to read Eyes Like Leaves, written around the same time as Moonheart, I struggled and gave up—at least, for now. Maybe Eyes was too similar to Moonheart. Maybe it jumped around too much for me to fasten onto the plot and characters. Maybe I’m just a different person from back when this book was published Still, I hope de Lint keep writing fiction, despite his recent personal tragedies. Then again, maybe he’s said all that he wants to say, at least when it comes to fiction. It won’t be the first time that’s happened to an author.
Well, I made it to 12 days with a consistent running streak at over two miles running each day, before getting hit with an injury. On day 13 I ran through the pain of a strain on the outside of my left calf. I’d planned to only run two miles that day, a recovery run. On day 14, when I’d planned to run six miles, I only ran half that distance, also fighting through the pain. Do I attempt day 15, or take a pause here?
In a normal week I run only three to five days out of the seven. Pushing my running habit to two weeks in a row, even though it’s by no means a major effort each day, may have caused the issue/injury. It’s frustrating. If my intent is to get to 50+ miles a week, and I’m hitting an injury wall at around 35 miles a week, how do I get beyond that barrier and back to a place where it was the norm?
The question now is whether I take some days off and hope the issue resolves itself, or keep the streak going but at a lower mileage than planned. I’ve tried ice, tried ibuprofen, tried compression. At this point, I guess the only option is rest. I think it’s a matter of pride and spirit that kept me running, and I have to set that aside for a few days.
By chance (per my normal book buying methods) I saw a listing in early March, 2025 advertising for sale a new James P. Blaylock book. This book was The Invisible Woman, published by PS Publishing in December 2024. With no wallet on hand, I decided to return to that site the following day. The original listing that spurred my interest had by then vanished, so likely another Blaylock fan swooped in and got that book.
I immediately went to the web site of PS Publishing and placed my order, fretting that I’d again waited too long. Blaylock is one of those writers (along with Jack Vance, Tim Powers, Michael Shea, F. Paul Wilson, and Charles de Lint) whose books I won’t hesitate to buy. Vance and Shea now have passed beyond the veil, and Wilson’s stroke means no more new fiction. There are still a few de Lint books that I don’t own, and I hope Blaylock (and Powers) continue to write and publish fiction.
The hardcover edition of The Invisible Woman is limited to 200 copies. A trade paperback edition also exists, for those not fortunate enough to grab one of the hardcovers. I still cannot fathom why Blaylock doesn’t garner more mainstream publications – he used to publish books with Ace, and then Subterranean Press. Has the market for Blaylock’s fiction shrunk so much that a hardcover edition of a new novel now comes down to just 200 copies by a UK publisher? What has happened to the US fantasy market for this to happen? Has the market changed that much, or the fans just up and vanished? I remember reading a comment from another fantasy writer, Charles de Lint, about the changing modern fantasy market a few years ago, so maybe that’s what’s happening here. Their loss, my gain.
I ordered The Invisible Woman on March 5th. Joseph Stalin died on March 5th, something all sane people can celebrate. Other than that date, there is no correlation between Stalin’s death and Blaylock’s book. I received it on March 23rd. The Invisible Woman features the same two main characters from Pennies from Heaven (PS Publishing, 2022), Jane and Jerry Larkin. Jane runs a co-op in Southern California. Jerry now is busy fixing up an inn, having restored their own house. I’m still in the middle of reading the book, savoring every moment. Will this turn into a trilogy, or remain as two books? Not sure. Don’t care. I’ll keep buying anything Blaylock puts out there.
