Here I go again, trying to fill in some gaps in my collection decades after I stopped collecting certain books…
Back in the 1990s I picked up several books published by Dark Harvest. This was a small press that started with some great original collections, new horror novels, and reprints. Then the small press/collector’s market, suffered major contractions. Dark Harvest as a publisher ceased to exist. This is the story of many small press publishers; they forget their primary market, or the people in charge change or leave, and then they cease to exist. The same seemed to happen with Arkham House, Golden Gryphon, Carcosa, and many more.
Although there’s one elusive Dark Harvest book that I keep trying to track down, without much success, I had picked up a few others recently.
I read Chet Williamson’s novel, Dreamthorp, recently. Not having read anything by Williamson, I probably missed this book and Reign, both published by Dark Harvest. I bought Reign in a limited, signed edition from a dealer who also listed some Dean Koontz editions.
All three of the Koontz book are unsigned trade editions. To me they form a sort of trilogy, at least in the titles—The House of Thunder, The Key to Midnight, and The Eyes of Darkness. Although they arrived as unopened shrink-wrapped books, possibly due to the age of the books or how they were stored two of the books had some minor spotting on the end papers. I had a copy of another Koontz book from Dark Harvest—Shadowfires—but at some point moving books around, or double-stacking them due to lack of space, the dust jacket developed a tear. Still, it will be interesting to read these books, as it’s been many a year since I last read anything by Dean Koontz. I believe there’s still one more Dark Harvestbook by Koontz out there, so maybe one day I will stumble across it.
Arkham House is another interesting publishing house. I own many of their books published after 1975; older books fetch a premium on the collector’s market, and I’m not quite willing to go there yet. Arkham House published two Lucius Shepard books, The Jaguar Hunter and The Ends of the Earth. Again, a case of buying one book years ago, and then finally coming across the other one, and now The Ends of the Earth joins its partner on my shelves.
All these books were ordered online, sight somewhat unseen. That’s not always ideal, especially with the light spotting on two of the books. Still, these are not books you find in your local used book store, given that they are published by small presses and all originally appeared around thirty years ago (or more).
I’ve been buying a handful of books recently, mostly older ones that I missed the first time around, but occasionally new ones. A few arrived recently, all valued additions to my small library.
The first of these is a hardback edition of Lewis Shiner’s novel, Glimpses. I already own the paperback, which I read years ago, but the hardback is one that I missed when it first came out. I think that I’ve read most of Shiner’s novels (aside from one), as well as most of his short stories (at least those that have been collected). I look forward to re-reading this novel, since it’s been many years since I last read it.
Along with Glimpses, I picked up Say Goodbye, which is the only Shiner novel that I haven’t read. I missed the book when it came out in 1999, and then it either vanished or I had stopped reading SF for a while. I kept looking for it in book stores (used and non), but finally bit the bullet and looked online for a copy.
Michael Shea’s one of my favorite writers. Centipede Press recently released the second book by Shea (well, third, as they put out the massive collection, The Autopsy and Others, years ago—now listed at $1,400 on the collector’s market). The Mines of Behemoth came out in paperback a few years ago, and also fetches a decent sum on the second-hand market. I didn’t spring for the signed edition, but I bought the regular edition, which still is priced fairly high at $85. Then again, almost all the Centipede Press books skyrocket in cost/value once out of print. If you want any of their books, you’d better buy while they’re hot. Otherwise you’ll pay a premium.
Robert McCammon’s ten-book project featuring Matthew Corbett as he navigates the New World and beyond has seen multiple publishers—River City, Subterranean Press, Cemetery Dance, and now Lividian Publications. I read McCammon’s novels several decades ago (heck, his vampire novel, They Thirst, was one of the big three late 20th century vampire novels at some point, the other two being Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot and Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire). A few years ago I found a copy of Speaks the Nightbird, the first Matthew Corbett novel, almost by chance. Set in 1699 in America (long before it became the republic we know today), it’s a massive novel, and maybe the best in the series. McCammon since has followed up with one novel after another, and now only one final chapter remains. Seven Shades of Evil, the most recently published Corbett book (and the second from Lividian Publications), is a collection of stories. My copy arrived today, and I’m greatly looking forward to reading these stories.
I’m five books away from completing a collection of a 29-book series. Five books! Those last ones are proving tough to find at decent prices, and these are paperbacks! Two of them I can’t even find as paperbacks, only hardcover or leather-bound editions. One of the books I’ve found in the paperback edition is at the (I think) insane price of $44 (plus shipping).
It’s a strange thing, as for decades I owned two of the books in this series. Then, this year I looked at “filling in the gaps” in my collection and looked at what it would take to get the other books in this series. In this case the gap was huge. The series was published in three states in the late 1980s, early 1990s—paperback, hardcover, and leather-bound. I went with paperbacks since I owned two books in that state; if I chose the hardcover route I’d need to get copies of those same books in that state. Plus, there’s the added expense, given the second-hand collector’s market and prices thereof. Although, as one of the paperbacks fell apart as I read it, perhaps this wasn’t the best investment. Glue is far from permanent.
There’s a strange sense of irony in trying to collect this series, as the publisher behind the series probably could have kept it going longer, but for the fact they flooded the market with a bunch of other series. That spate of different series flooded the market and led to the demise of said publisher, and probably affected the overall small press market in the early 1990s. It’s a case of too much of a good thing.
Nonetheless, I’m now on a hunt to try to locate those last five books in somewhat decent shape and also at somewhat palatable prices. Also, it’s strange to think that a third of the writers in this series have since passed, many while quite young. Thirty years many of them were in their prime. But then, that’s time for you.
I’m currently reading through all the books in order, although I’m a little peeved to have to skip a volume or two. I guess some writers are more collectible than others, right?
Over the years I’ve acquired several SF, fantasy, and horror books from a variety of major publishers as well as small press publishers. Many of the small press publishers rise and fall, while some persist. Some have major cachet within the genres, like Arkham House, while others are notable but ephemeral, like Golden Gryphon; the latter was founded Gary Turner, someone who edited several Arkham House books. After he passed away, Golden Gryphon briefly continued before shutting down, and still managed to publish 63 hardcover books, mostly collections. Dark Harvest published mainly in the horror genre, starting in the early 1980s, and then vanished a decade later. Their Night Visions series ran to nine volumes, was briefly picked up by Subterranean Press (three books), then faded into oblivion.
I see books as both a means to read stories, and works of art in and of themselves. Appearance matters, and it’s far more often the case to see great art and great design in small press books than in ones published by Tor, BAEN, or William Morrow, to name some examples. I don’t know if the artists are paid better in small press, or the publishers just care more. Maybe it’s the fact that small press publishers charge more for their books, and can afford (to some degree) to produce elegant works. Although I still don’t get the attraction of signed/limited vs. trade hardcover editions (maybe it’s the signature?), or even the desire to own books in slipcases (although I have a handful of these, none were acquired for the sake of the slipcase), I remain amazed that writers will sit down and sign 500 pages in one go (or however many signature pages the publisher sends them), and that someone will write in the numbers on those pages.
As far as other small press publishers, I own a few books from a variety of them. I’ll admit that I like that fact that I treasure something from one of these publishers somewhat more than any book from say, Tor Books, or BAEN, or Ace, to name som major publishers. I wish many of these small press publishers still existed. I wish they’d planned better, not rushed themselves into misadventures and bad decisions, or suffered through death or acrimonious splits. Far more than anything in my haphazard book collection, I treasure my Jack Vance Underwood-Miller books. I look at my paperback copy of The Gray Prince, and wonder why they never produced an edition of this book.
Another example: Pulphouse Publishing, which started out with ambitious designs in the late 1980s and then vanished a few years later, had so much promise. They tried a hardback magazine, short collections issues every month, a magazine, and other ideas. I’ve read that they over-extended themselves with too many items too quickly, which is a shame. One would think there’d be a market for smaller press runs of trade paperbacks, each maybe 100-120 words, and published at regular intervals. For some of their output, they published books in various states, such as unsigned paperback, signed/limited edition hardbacks, and even a rarer state. The latter two options seem unnecessary to me, probably only aimed at a refined and narrow collector’s market. The late 1980s/early 1990s mean a great deal to me in terms of authors that I like, and Pulphouse gave a voice to many of them in their various editions. I look at the supposed leading lights of genre fiction today, and rarely is it the case that I would pick up anything by these writers. A different time, different market, I suppose.
The list goes on: Silver Salamander, Axolotl Press, Underwood-Miller, Cemetery Dance, Gauntlet Press, Borderlands Press, Mark V. Ziesing Books, Ursus, Fedogan & Bremer, Donald M. Grant, NESFA Press, Morrigan, PS Publishing, Night Shade, Subterranean Press, White Wolf, Small Beer Press, Centipede Press, and many more. A few of these publishers still exist today. Subterranean Press might be the best in terms of success, while Centipede Press produces the best looking books (and its certainly up there in terms of cost). Charnel House produces quite expensive editions, but none that I’ve never bought, so I can’t say anything about their books. Before 1980 there were no doubt many others, long since shuttered. These days, the numbers have somewhat diminished. Major genre publishers, like BAEN or Tor, continue even after the primary mover has gone, but in terms of the small press, it seems like a labor of love more than anything else. Many of them exist through the labor of love from one person, maybe two, and once the fire is gone, or the reality of cost and profit sets in, all that remains are a few books on the collector’s market.
Over the years, countless genre magazines have died, countless editorials and comments have been written about the death of the short fiction market. Anthologies and collections still sell only a few copies, and it’s too bad that many of these small press publishers, where collections and anthologies make up a large set of titles, exist only for a short moment in time. Then again, I look back at some of the so-called major publishers of the 1980s and earlier, and most of these imprints have since shut down, or been bought out and subsumed into other publishers. Regardless, I’m happy these small press publishers exist. Now, if only they would release their books on their promised schedule…
In the previous post I wrote about having leveled-up the number of owned books in this series to 38. After a couple of recent purchases, that number is now 45. There have been (to date) 55 books published in this series. Of the remaining 10 that I lack, I think the average price for each small hardback is around $100 or more. So, unless a title happens to land in my lap, I may have hit the proverbial wall. At any rate, the shelf that I allocated to this collection is now full.
For the first time, I also have a display case for one group of five books. Each display case fits five specific books, with titles embossed one side. The text, gold on black, combined with the small font size, make the titles hard to read. Still, it’s a nice little case. I’m not sure how many display cases they made, but finding ones available for sale seems more difficult than finding the last 10 books that I don’t own. With 55 books published, these make up 11 sets (they are grouped in sets of five). I currently have five complete sets that would find a home in a display case. I think most of them at this point will remain without this small home.
If I take a look at those remaining 10 books that I don’t own, the hardest ones to find (and most expensive) are probably the Gaiman and Ligotti books, as well as the ones by Malerman and Joe Hill; the other Stephen King son’s book is still available at reasonable prices.
I find it interesting that some authors include introductions, and some just include stories. I enjoy reading the intros as much as the stories, so it’s a shame that those with just stories lack some statement from the author. It’s always interesting to read why they chose specific stories to include in a collection.
Collecting these books has provided an interesting introduction to many new authors. The current series—Past Masters of Horror and Dark Fantasy—is two-thirds complete. New books are announced one at a time, so currently we have no idea of the next group of five that round out this series, nor any future series, if one is planned. This is a unique set of books and deserves more attention in the world of publishing and genre fandom.
After stumbling across a seller listing some of the earliest books in this series, my collection now numbers 38 books, including the first 10 books in the series. These are came in at the upper limit of my budget for each book. This seller has listed three additional books, but they’re beyond my upper limit, so I’m holding off on those books. Initially, I only saw one book listed, but they enclosed a note about some others also available. I then bought a few more. Their second note listed one that I did not see, so I bought this one as well.
There are still 16 books (to date) in this series that I currently do not own, and from my research I’d consider buying only four or five more. Some are insanely hard to find, but then I thought the same about those first books in the series as well.
As I’m a haphazard collector, I know I’ll probably never get them all. At least three of the books are impossible to find, or outrageously expensive. Recently, I saw a listing of the Neil Gaiman book at $750. Since, after a few weeks, this listing no longer appeared, my assumption is that someone was willing to pay that amount. I’m not.
Same for the Mallerman and Ligotti books; at the listed prices maybe someone will buy them, but not me. Then again, I’ve see the Massie book listed for $200, and I got it at a fraction of the price, so sometimes you get lucky.
As I collect them, slowly start to read them. Many authors are new to me, and I guess that’s part of the excitement.
If there’s a part 5 to this series of posts about the Little Books series, it might cover those remaining four or five within my budget. I don’t foresee much more after that, but if by chance I get them all, I know I have to post review of each of them, which would mean a productive series of posts. It would also mean some re-reads, and possibly first time reads. I do wonder, though, how long Borderlands Press will continue with this series.
From owning 26 books over a month ago, I’ve added only four more to my collection. Although there are—to date—53 books in the series, I am hampered by two factors: first, few of the books that I lack are available on the market, and, second, I have a self-imposed limit in terms of what I want to spend per book.
The second factor has prevented me from acquiring several more books, as these are outside my self-imposed budget. To put it bluntly, there’s no effing way that I’ll spend over $75 for a slim volume, by any author, let alone the hundred being asked for certain authors.
I wish now that I’d known about these books earlier, though ironically, even had I known about them when they were published, I likely would have hesitated as when many of these first appeared I would have balked at the price anyway.
This isn’t to say my resources now are unlimited; my budget is firm, which means I’ve hesitated on multiple occasions to buy certain books that are on the market. Maybe they’ll never drop in price. Maybe certain titles will never appear. C’est la vie, as they say.
There are certain of my collections, so to speak, that will remain incomplete. Such is life: it is imperfect. I lack a book or two here or there. Lacking over 20 in the Little Books series is no different than lacking multiple hundred Arkham House books, for example. In two cases I lack a single volume in a series, and in one of these cases the volume I lack just never seems to appear for sale anywhere. When it does, it’s the “signed/limited” edition at what I’d term insane prices.
If one or books in the Borderlands Press series ever does emerge and is within my budget, I’ll try to pick it up, even though I know that there is no way I’ll get them all. I don’t think I care at this point. The Gaiman and Ligotti books will forever remain out of reach, as will the earlier ones. Malerman and Hill—both in my opinion are overpriced, but I can say that for a dozen others. The market may disagree, as someone appears to have handed over $750 for a book listed on a website recently. There are maybe three more volumes that I’ve found on the market that I might be able to acquire. That takes me to 33 books of the 53 published. This means than 20 or so books are out of reach, which seems like a huge number, as it’s almost 40% of published books at this point. When I reach my limit, will I still care? Will I still check various book seller sites to see if any are listed that fall into my price range? Maybe I’ll keep checking, but I doubt some of these books will come down in price.
I’ve never read any of Jack Ketchum’s fiction. I first heard of Ketchum (whose real name is Dallas Mayr), in early 2022. Mayr died in 2018, so he’ll never shake his head in misery that some unknown reader never came across his fiction while Mayr was alive. It’s not that I don’t own any fiction of Ketchum’s; I have all the copies of Subterranean Press’s attempt to revive Dark Harvest’s brilliant horror anthology series, Night Visions. The first of those copies, aka Night Visions 10, includes one Ketchum story, “The Passenger.” Yet, I’d never read that story.
I’d stumbled across these editions a few years ago, shelved them, and planned on reading the stories in Night Visions 10, 11, and 12, but this never happened. These three books were the only Night Visions books published by Subterranean Press, back in 2001, 2004, and 2006 respectively. Subterranean Press tried to revive a noted anthology twenty years after the last one appeared, but gave up after only three, whereas the original publisher, Dark Harvest, put out nine books between 1984 and 1991.
The original Night Visions books (of which I own all but #2) were unique horror anthologies. Each book contained stories by two known authors and one new writer. Published between 1984 and 1991, they included a variety of well-known names and few up-and-coming ones. Some of the memorable names include Stephen King, Robert McCammon, Clive Barker, Dean Koontz, and F. Paul Wilson. I’m not sure if the horror genre briefly died around in the early 1990s, or just the publisher, or both. I confess that I didn’t read keep up with the horror genre much, though I bought a few books and anthologies. I didn’t follow the market enough to hear about Ketchum, who apparently was a Big Name back then. He was a Big Name in the sort of violent horror tales that I avoided. You know: cannibals and brutal killers.
Lately, though, as I’ve picked up a slew of horror/dark fantasy collections and anthologies from back in the day (and by that I mean the 1990s through the early 2000s, when I mainly ready SF), I’ve come across writers who were big in those days and whose works I either missed or don’t remember. Ketchum is one of these writers, and, having read from cover to cover his book, certain thoughts struck me.
Ketchum’s volume from Borderlands Press, in their Little Books series is entitled A Little Emerald Book of Ephemera. There’s no fiction here; it’s musings about life, fiction, etc. Some of the entries are introductions or afterwords to new editions of his books. His idea of horror aligns with mine: people committing brutal acts, often for no reason. This makes him angry. I feel much the same way. Yet, in reading what he writes about his fiction, I’m not sure I want to read his fiction.
It sounds far more brutal than I think I’d care to experience.
Is that a bad thing, I wonder? Who will remember authors after they’re dead? Far fewer people than read them while he or she was alive. Some authors persist after they die, but these are few in number. Keep in mind that few living writers get published, and many of these rise briefly and then fall to mid-list or worse. From what I’ve read, Ketchum was mostly a paperback writer, and the market for paperback horror disappeared a few decades ago. Aside from a couple of names, such as Stephen King, the horror genre is not a major market. It seems, given the lack of success with the attempted revival of Night Visions, that even in the specialty press horror doesn’t have much of a market. In limited edition hardbacks, published in a few hundred copies, only the die-hard fan or collector will turn their eye (and wallet) to those books.
Sure, there’s still a strong degree of interest in horror, but it likely will never approach the success of fantasy of SF in terms of genre fiction. Ketchum writes, in one of his ephemera, that he sold 300,000 copies of his first book, Off Season. That sounds, at least to me, like a massive success. His later novels apparently didn’t sell as well, but, from what I’ve read, his focus in terms of the horror genre, was on the extreme edge, an uncomfortable edge.
My current fascination with Borderlands Press’s Little Books series is, I’ll admit, a strange one. Reading through some of these has revived a long-dormant interest in dark fiction. I find it interesting that the writers are given free rein: some submit fiction, others non-fiction. Some of the fiction is accompanied by notes about the stories, others included just the stories. Maybe’s there a word limit, and the writer is told: just give me X number of words, it doesn’t matter about what. After all, when you publish something in 500 copies, manic collectors will, like moths, gravitate toward these books. An edition of 500 copies is fewer than most specialty press editions of collections, though probably not by much. It’s hard to say, as not all small press publishers provide exact numbers. In the cases of limited and signed editions, the numbers are more obvious, but not always. Golden Gryphon, for example, listed most of their books as published in editions of 3,000. Other speciality presses aren’t as forthcoming. How many “trade” editions did Dark Harvest of Subterranean Press print in each Night Visions volume? Unknown.
So, in terms of these books, I always wonder: what’s the market? A book (or books) by a certain author will attract fans of that author. Books by certain publishers might attract fans of that publisher, regardless of author. Certain of those books become instant collector’s items, and quickly fetch premiums after publications. A few years ago I bought The Autopsy, a collection of most of Michael Shea’s fiction, published by Centipede Press. It was limited to 500 copies, all signed by Michael Shea, and listed for $125 upon publication. Search online now, and people are selling it for $1,400 or more. Many other Centipede Press editions accrue similarly in value. Ketchum himself mused upon a paperback edition of one of his books being listed for $85; no doubt any limited edition hardcover would fetch far more, especially signed ones, and especially now that he’s dead. Not all small press books attain this market value, but some are up there.
I’m rambling all over the place here… Having started with one writer and then deviating over to small press publishers. I’m going to say that, yes, I wish I’d known about Ketchum while he was alive. It would have made little or no difference. to his life, but maybe I would have picked up a book or two. There are many writers, in many genres, that I’m now reading for the first time who were alive and writing stories and novels a decade ago and who’re now dead: Charles Grant, Rick Hautala, Dennis Etchison. Then again, there are writers I’m also reading for the first time who are still alive, who have been writing for decades, or maybe only a few years. Grant and Etchison appear again and again in noted anthologies, and I wonder as I see their names, will they persist? Is it just Stephen King? Why not them?
I think I’ll stop here, although not far from my mind is the thought that after reading (or in some cases re-reading) anthologies published in the past 20-30 years, that many of the writers whose stories appeared in these anthologies are mostly forgotten. A handful of names persist, but the majority appeared a few times and then vanished.
What the hell happened to them? Where did they go? Will some of them say, “I’m still here?” Did others fade away, die, or quit? And if so, why? Even those who didn’t quit, now quickly before they are forgotten, at least by publishers?
Today I dropped by a used book store. I headed first over to the mystery section, and picked up one paperback under the Soho Crime imprint. Then I looked at the science fiction section, but found nothing of interest. I glanced at the horror section, which usually is dominated by two authors, both whose last name starts with the letter “K.” One of the hardcover books positioned to face out on the shelf was a book I’d see years ago. I thought I had once owned a copy, maybe a paperback or such, and almost walked away. But, it was a hardcover in decent condition, even with a mylar protective cover, and I knew it was a book I currently didn’t have. There was a small water stain on the top, but otherwise it looked ok. The price was $8.49. I opened the cover and saw someone had penciled Xs and check marks next to the stories. That’s ok, I thought. I can erase those.
After I bought the book, I realized someone had written a name on a page just before the table of contents. It was the editor’s name, Kirby McCauley. Well, I thought, maybe the previous owner kept track of the authors. Later than evening I did a lazy search online for McCauley’s signature, and it matched. Not too bad, signed by the editor. I erased the pencil marks, then flipped to the first story. At first, my heart sank. I hate it when people write in books, and someone had written the date above the title of the story. Then I saw a faint signature below that. The story had been signed by the author, Dennis Etchison. I flipped to the second story, and Ed Bryant had signed that one as well. Story after story had been signed by the contributor—13 of the 24 contributors had signed or inscribed the book. A few were dated 1982. The others were undated. The previous owner had somehow been able to collect signatures from the following people:
• Kirby McCauley • Stephen King • Dennis Etchison • Edward Bryant • Karl Edward Wagner • Gene Wolfe • Theodore Sturgeon • Ramsey Campbell • Robert Bloch • Ray Bradbury • Joe Haldeman • Charles L. Grant • Manly Wade Wellman
I have no idea what a book like this, with signatures from Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, Robert Bloch, and others, might be worth, but this probably ranks up there as perhaps the greatest or luckiest find in my book collecting life, ever.
The previous owner had bought the book over 40 years ago, had gone around to conventions and collected signatures from authors who were either famous or on the way to great fame. What happened to the previous owner for the book to end up in the used book store, and sold for only $8.49? The book store people had no idea who signed the book. If they had, it would be behind glass with a much higher price.
Most of the contributors are now dead. I think of the ones who haven’t signed it, only three remain alive. It would be cool if even one or all were signing books somewhere and I was able to make it there, that their names could be added to this book. What history lies within, nestled among these great stories!
I tend to buy few books sight unseen. This year I may have bought more books online than ever in my life, and I’ve bought maybe a couple of dozen this year, if that. Three times now, however, I’ve been bitten. Two books were listed in fine condition. One was in far from fine, with multiple tears in the dust jacket, and the book itself askew. The other had a few small tears in the dust jacket. The third, well, it was in great condition, but the seller never mentioned the glued owner plate from the previous owner, and even misrepresented the publisher. My bad for not researching the latter item, seller’s bad for not mentioning the first part.
In all three cases I’ve had to suppress my anger. True, I’ve missed things in books even when looking at them in stores, such as remainder marks, or a previous owner’s name, or a second edition when I thought it was a first edition. Those were all my fault. That last item doesn’t affect me too much, though I prefer first editions when buying nice copies of books. We all make mistakes. That’s how we learn. Far more of the books I’ve bought online this year have been fine. Even when buying from “reputable” bookstores online I’ve sometimes received books with creased covers, hastily shoved into boxes by overworked and underpaid employees. Still, relying on the word of others in this case can be frustrating.
Avoiding online purchases of used books in the past means that I’ve missed out on many books, but I’ve always preferred to hold in my hands the book that I want to buy, whether new, used from a bookstore, or a dealer at a convention. I have, maybe once or twice, swapped a cover onto a book where one book was in good condition but the cover not so much, and the other book had a nice cover. If they’re the same book, for the same price, I felt a degree of guilt, but also thought it would be allowed.
What happens to these three books that arrived in poor conditions? Well, they’re hard to find, so I suspect I’ll keep them around as “reader copies,” and if by chance I find replacements, bite the bullet and buy a second copy. Maybe it will happen, maybe it won’t.
