Category: books (Page 6 of 19)

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.

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.

It was fun while it lasted.

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.

I’ve now significantly increased my collection of these books, having gone from one to six to 26 volumes. There’s a hint of madness in my eyes when I look at them all lined up, or even laid down flat and line up next to each other. Maybe that madness gets dulled somewhat when I consider that I own less than half of the books in that series, and at some point I’ll run up against insane collector prices. Not to say that around $30 for a small volume with less than 150 pages doesn’t seem insane, but I’ve seen some of the books listed for over $300.

When compared side by side, there are certain physical variations in the books. This isn’t just in color, as is expected from their titles, but in size, materials, and design. Some are smooth, while others are bound in a rough cloth-like material. I like the rougher ones best, as I find that a certain roughness feels better than the smoother, earlier volumes. Still, the ones with smooth covers seem to hold the print of the titles better, while the rougher designs may over time lose some of the text and

In terms of the design, some books have just text on the cover, some have text and art. The fonts are not the same, and some use small caps while others regular text. The titles and bylines also are all over the place vertically. None of the books have any text on the spines, so when lined up there is no way to tell the title of any book. I supposed that’s part of the reason Borderlands Press created display cases for each grouping of five books (or, a quick way to make some additional cash).

In terms of the writers, aside from these books I don’t own a single other copy of their other works, with minor exceptions, such as F. Paul Wilson and William Hope Hodgson. Wilson is the author whose sole book I had when I started this vacuuming up of books in the series. As for Hodgson, I’d bought to books published by Donald M. Grant many years ago. I’d heard of most of the other authors, with certain exceptions: Charlotte Riddell, a long-forgotten Victorian era writer, and a few newer writers like Mort Castle, Brian Keene, Josh Malerman, etc. Some writers appear in collections that I own, but I’ll confess (and apologize to the authors) that this didn’t lead me to track down their own works.

Speaking of Riddell, there are few women writers in this series, which is a shame. There are only three other women writers so far out of the 52 published books , meaning the other 48 are male. The books appear infrequently; the series started prior to 2004, and with 52 books listed published and one announced for later this month. Perhaps the publishers and editors will find more women writers as they continue with the series. Or maybe not. Maybe the series will run out steam, or interest, although hopefully it will continue and also bring attention to many other writers out there. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll now actually look for some of their other books.

Recently I bought a collection of stories, a set of collaborations between Gardner Dozois and other writers, called Slow Dancing Through Time. When I bought it I didn’t realize that I’d bought the special limited edition, and that it came in a slipcase. Published by Ursus/Ziesing back in 1990, this book is one of 374 numbered and lettered copies signed by all contributors, including Dozois, Pat Cadigan, Michael Swanwick, Jack Dann, Jack C. Haldeman II, Susan Casper, Michael Bishop, Tim Kirk, Vern Dufford, and Dick Ivan Punchatz (the latter three the illustrators). A trade edition also appeared, though in an unknown number.

It’s a beautiful book, with a wonderful illustration inside the front and back covers by Tim Kirk. It’s a book I’ve seen previously somewhere, but without remembering where. Possibly at some SF convention. Reading it now, more than 30 years later, with several of the contributors no longer alive, is a strange feeling. A book like this doesn’t feel 30 odd years old, or maybe I don’t feel that the passage of time has stretched so long from 1990 to the present.

Collections and anthologies are an interesting breed of book. Writers of short stories usually sell their stories to magazines, and they sell enough, and reach a certain degree of fame, sometimes succeed in getting several of their stories published in a collection, or an anthology of like-minded tales. When it comes to books, the novel market dominates. Short story collections usually only appear in smaller print runs, unless you’re someone like Stephen King. They thrive within the embrace of small press publishers, as these publishers generally have print runs of a few thousand copies. The great part about collections is reading short works of fiction, but what I find just as much fun is reading the intros. These may be in the form of the general introduction, usually where the author bemoans the lack of markets for short stories, and the limited press run of their collection, how they begged and pleaded for their publisher to cobble together this great volume. Or, they could be smaller intros to each story (or in some cases, afterwords, where the writer patiently asks the reader to make sure that the reader actual read the story before the afterword—sometimes unsuccessfully, I might note in my case).

Some writers seem to put as much work into their introductions, as their stories. Harlan Ellison is like that. Others try to let the stories speak for themselves, such as Jack Vance, who only wrote a few brief intros to his collections. Part of my fascination with the non-story pieces is because these often are insights into the mind of the author, who tries to recreate the genesis or meaning of the story. This isn’t something you can do we you write a story, but once written many writers seem to want to look backward and try to explain, to themselves as much as to the reader, how that story came about and what it means to them.

Perhaps, at least in my case, the juxtaposition of the story and the accompanying pieces are a reminder of the work that goes into any fiction, even quite short ones. Good short stories must have an impact, a short sharp shock. A simple joke told by a comedian has been honed and re-written multiple times, to reach the payoff. A short story has been conceived, written, stripped down to its essentials. After that effort, getting an insight into what brought that story to life adds to it, makes the writer seem human and not like some god.

The intro, afterword, or whatever one calls that accompanying text, provides not only insight into the genesis of a story, but the time and place around that story. Sometimes the writer will go into detail how they sold it to a book or magazine. Many of these no magazines no longer exist, or seem like strange choices. Some stories have a winding life until they finally find a home, or end up forgotten and alone until restored among its siblings in a volume of the author’s work.

Collections without such intros are often sad, sterile affairs. Sure, you can read the stories, but by themselves they feel, well, empty. That, of course, is the personal choice of the author who’s likely not getting paid by the word for writing those non-fictional pieces. It does seem a shame, in the age of the internet, but even prior, that many of the short story markets and publications no longer exist. From the pulps to the slick, to specialty magazines and fanzines, many now lie lost and forgotten. Such is it, I suppose, with some older writers, whose books no longer are in print. The genre market is a tough one, even for living authors. Dead ones for the most part now also live in the past. Rediscovering this volume maybe keeps their memory alive a little longer.

Recently I mused upon lazily collecting some of the chapbooks in the Little Books series from Borderlands Press. Having having owned one of the books for many years I happened to pick up a couple more. Perhaps that strange human characteristic of wanting to gather more of the same, I went ahead and looked for other books.

There are two limitations in this effort. First, my price threshold is fairly low; I don’t foresee spending more than $45 for a single book, especially given that these are small chapbooks. Sure, they’re limited to 500 (in most cases) copies, and are signed. But, is that such a big deal? Second, some are hard to find. I’ve checked the usual suspects like Bookfinder and eBay, and so far have been able to locate listings for all but 11 of the books.

What’s my ceiling here, I wonder? So far 53 books have been published. I now own 7, and possibly may pick up another 10-15 before I hit my price ceiling. At what point does it become an obsession? Probably never. To consider having less than half of the complete set is, to a completist, somewhat of a disappointment. The most expensive listing I’ve seen so far is $200 for (to me) an unknown author. There are two or three writers whose books in this series likely will never reach the market for less than $500. Is it then worth it owning a tiny piece of cardboard and paper?

As I’ve said before, I’m more of a haphazard collector when it comes to books. I want the ones that I can read, that fit my interests, and fall under a reasonable budget. My interests are narrow. Generally I’ll focus on authors I like, such as Jack Vance, James P. Blaylock, Tim Powers, Michael Shea, a few others. In a few small cases I’ve looked at publishers as an option. I own all but one of the Golden Gryphon hard covers. I considered trying to collect Arkham House or Dark Harvest, but many of the books from the former are beyond expensive. When it comes to the latter, I only really focused on their Night Visions series, where the only one I don’t have is impossible to find.

I read about other book collectors and marvel at their persistence and resourcefulness. To me there’s a certain joy in holding a rare book, but if there are multiple states, such as trade, limited, and deluxe limited, then I’ll happily own the trade edition. Slipcases, tray cases, these mean nothing to me if I can have the same book in a decent edition.