(Sleeping cats for a Friday.)

First of all, happy birthday to my wonderful wife, Ann!! (Okay, so her birthday is tomorrow, but I’m not online tomorrow.)

Second of all, I did an interview with writer and editor Maurice Broaddus on Omnivoracious. I really love this interview–it’s one of my favorites. Go check it out.

So…we went down to one of the local used bookstores yesterday, thinking “Maybe we can pick up a couple of anthologies or author collections of use for weird and other projects”…only to find more than 200 titles, mostly in old Doubleday or Book Club editions–part of a collection sold by an elderly man moving to a smaller house.

An unseemly feeding frenzy ensued, and close to half of that collection now resides in our house.

It’s fascinating going through these older books. First off, there’s not as much of a reliance on names–they’re absent from some front covers entirely–and more of an emphasis on “hey, you’re about to read some great stories.” New writers appear several times, and there’s a value assigned to publishing new writers expressed in the introductions to several of these anthos. I don’t find that to be the case, generally, with present-day anthologies from large publishers, which fixate on big names as the best or easiest way to generate sales.

And, yep, women appear in these books, sometimes in quantity (although I haven’t looked through all of them yet), and especially in Marvin Kaye’s anthologies there’s a good balance of type of story and also lots of great stories by writers like Joanna Russ, Jessica Amanda Salmonson, Joyce Carol Oates, etc. Indeed, there’s at least one story by Rabindranath Tagore in Masterpieces of Terror and the Unknown. In addition, there are translations either picked up in reprint or commissioned for a particular antho. (Full Spectrum 3 isn’t pictured here, but it features two translations.) In Foundations of Fear, not pictured here, edited by David Hartwell you can find stories by Daphne Du Maurier, Octavia Butler, and more.

This all by way of saying that with regard to the SFX stupidity in not featuring any women in its special horror issue…maybe we shouldn’t let a few asshats define how we think women in horror are or have been represented. Castigate the asshats, yes, but don’t let them define the overall experience. Strange Horizons, Clarkesworld, and Fantasy Magazine have all published excellent creepy/horrific stories by women over the last few years, there have been many anthologies with great horror by women, and some of the top editors interested in horror include Ellen Datlow and my wife, Ann VanderMeer, just to name two. (Indeed, all SFX had to do is email Ellen or Ann and ask who to feature and they could’ve had a cornucopia of women.)

One other interesting note before the book photos…one of the books is Dreams that Burn in the Night, by Craig Strete, who writes using a lot of Native American themes. This collection comes with a blurb from Jorge Luis Borges as well as James Tiptree Jr, and one story is co-written with Michael Bishop. The stories, in my opinion, are among those that haven’t dated well. But, given that he apparently was up for the Hugo and the Nebula and no one’s really heard of him today (except for this mention; scroll down), it’s a cautionary note for all of us writer types–see also the Peter Tate collection (who?). Here today, gone tomorrow. Bwaahahahaahaha.

Any observations about these covers? They’re drab in many cases, but, honestly, I prefer drab to the pseudo-Romance covers so popular today, with characters represented. I really don’t want any image of the characters in my head other than the one provided by the words inside.

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(Cover depicts a character from his insane Mind-Worm story)

Okay, is that a cool cover or what? I mean, I look at most of the covers in the SF/F section and I am bored beyond belief. But this? I’d buy that in a second.

Will Hindmarch is a freelance writer and designer. He also blogs at his home site, The Gist, and his game/story operation, Gameplaywright.net.

What’s happening here? This is Jeff VanderMeer perched and balanced above his audience during his reading in Manuel’s Tavern’s storage closet in Atlanta on Friday. Why have a reading in a bar? In the closet? Because at least it’s quiet.

Thanks to all who came out to the reading in Manuel’s on Friday. Thanks for following us into an unlikely venue and being great sports about it. One day we shall tell the others that you were there that day, for the readings on the closet ladder, atop the televisions, in the back room of an ATL bar. The others won’t understand, but that night wasn’t meant to be understood. It was meant for stories. So: Cheers.

Update: Here’s are nine more images from the night, on Flickr.

Got pictures from the event? Share them in the comments!

(Click the four outward arrows for full-screen glory)

Centipede Press…words fail me. I’ve never seen a publisher, outside of the brazen brilliance of Savoy, tackle such stunning projects—and whereas Savoy works within a set format of regular-sized hardcovers collecting uncompromising, edgy outsiders that William Burroughs would laud, Centipede Press often creates oversized hardcovers of the more outsider horror writers. (The two presses are like cousins with a subset of similar interests.)

These projects by Centipede Press are, to me, insane in the best possible way. They seem, from the outside anyway, to require staggering resources and time to create, and they are always made with an eye to detail and a sophisticated aesthetic that doesn’t shy away from the pulp origins of the material.

Now Centipede Press has come out with a book fully the equal of the Lovecraft art volume from last year, this time collecting the work of William Hope Hodgson in a slipcased oversized hardcover featuring the art of Stephen Fabian. Every element of this book has been chosen with care, all possible options weighed before execution. From the full-page bleeds of Fabian’s visionary art to the lovely half-translucent page that balances the marvelous title page art by Ian Miller, from the choice of type to the introduction by Sam Moskowitz, this edition of Hodgson may never be matched.

See the slideshow above for some highlights–and feel free to share it. Honestly, if you’re a collector you need this book. Wow.

(The FTC can stick this where the sun don’t shine. This caption would’ve been more effective a couple days ago.)

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Yep, it’s in the house–my copies, and the extra copies I’m taking on the road for the book tour. It’s simple but very nicely put together. And, of course, the music is awesome.

Below the break all the mundane details about ordering it or Finch or both.

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The first time I met Steve Hlavac it was on South Beach, where he had a busy night ahead of him as a professional photographer. We followed him to a bar where Warren Zevon was playing–he got his shots even though a customer wanted to punch him out. (Ann’s known him ever since he was her boss at a Record Bar in Tallahassee.)

In addition to his professional work for national and and international magazines (see also his page on photographed celebs) Steve’s had a couple of cool exhibits in recent years, one based on his travels in China and another called Floridustrial that you should really check out.

Now Steve’s got a new exhibit called Seaplanes and Citrus: Vintage Art from an Imaginary Past in which he’s repurposed some of his photographs in the context of vintage imaginary advertisements for various products, from Little Hailey’s Extra Large Baby Jumbo Shrimp Miniatures to Laughing Tiger Sour Citrus. Most of it is Florida-specific. He’s still adding context to the site, but the images are up there now. (For those still addicted to the meat world, you can also find them on display in the Tavares City Hall–north of Orlando–until the end of October.)

Below find a small sample of work from all three exhibits (all images copyright Steven Paul Hlavac). Steve also has prints of some of his work available.

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(A screen capture from my profile photo album on Facebook; I love how the juxtapositions form a kinda cool collage.)

I’ve got a complicated relationship with Facebook. When Matt Staggs first set up an account for me, I kind of scoffed at Facebook. Me? Wanting to interact with people using status messages on a daily basis? Not this curmudgeon.

Then I started using Facebook and became an addict. On a basic level, yes, the appeal was that I could keep up with my friends despite being frantically busy. I could actually remember their birthdays using this great external brain called “Facebook”. I started using Facebook while doing projects that didn’t require all of my brain—like editing, writing reviews, etc., so I found it a nice way of feeling connected and also of having some fun while getting stuff done.

Eventually, I began role-play using Facebook, as a lot of these profile photos should demonstrate. Role-playing is a form of storytelling, and since I had so many book projects on my plate but not much time for writing fiction, I think I used the role-playing in the guise of, say, a capybara or a giant bear or a komodo dragon as a way of fulfilling a creative urge on a micro level. This was also important because, well, after writing my novel Finch I didn’t really want to write any major fiction. It usually takes me awhile to recharge.

At one point, in the guise of an alien baby icon, I wrote the beginnings of a short story in first person—on Facebook. I know many of my friends didn’t know what the heck I was going on about, and others thought I was joking, but I found the process fascinating. As long as I stayed in character and answered the responses to my little posts of story fragments, I was advancing the narrative—and because many people didn’t realize I was telling a story, the narrative took twists and turns I wouldn’t have thought of without the prompts from my friends. In another case, I took on the persona of Mord, a giant Shardik-like bear who will figure in several future stories, and doing so gave me some idea of the parameters of the character.

Now, about eight months since I became serious about Facebook, I use it as a mini-blog as well as a source of creativity, and, still, to keep up with friends. I have almost 2,000 friends now, many of whom I don’t know, and so it really is more like a micro-blog platform than anything else. I post thoughts and content there that don’t overlap with Ecstatic Days, or I try to provide it in a different context. (If you’re not my friend on Facebook, feel free to add me—it’s a mix of close friends, colleagues, readers, fans, industry professionals at this point.) I’ve also thought about finding some graceful way to include a Facebook feed in the sidebar, since this blog and my Facebook activity are often linked in some ways (blog posts here have sometimes started as posts/responses on Facebook).

When I go on tour this fall, it’ll be interesting to see how it affects how I use Facebook. It might mean I’ll break from it and won’t come back for awhile. In part because there have been instances at which Facebook has felt cramped—as if it allows thousand of voices into a mind already crowded with information. And I’m also aware that I may simply be conditioned to the response, much as a rat in an experiment becomes conditioned to receiving a food pellet if it performs a certain function. It’s also led me to mistake it for a diary, in that I’ve posted status updates containing information I’d never divulge here on the blog, and in a couple of cases I’ve regretted it. (Other stuff is just perhaps too silly–like an updated status message at two in the morning about a flying cockroach.) And, finally, I’m sure Ann’s felt like a Facebook widow at times.

But I do know it has served a creative function for me this year as well, and three or four creative relationships that have led to projects have come about because of being on Facebook. So I may just have to accept the aspects of it that sometimes stress me to get the benefits from it . One thing’s for sure—as in all things, moderation is the key. Currently, I’m glutting myself on Facebook, but eventually I’ll have to pull back a bit.

(Full story here.)

For the past few months, Aidan Doyle, who I first met at Clarion South, has been traveling the world—countries like China, Mongolia, Russia, Estonia, Finland. He’s done more than a bit of travel writing for various places, but also keeps a blog here where he’s been posting about his experiences. Really interesting stuff.

Here’s Aidan at an undisclosed location picking up mad skillz, and a few teaser photos from his travels below the cut.

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First off, just to catch up, two new features on Amazon: an interview with Caitlin R. Kiernan about her new novel The Red Tree and a short appreciation of The Collected Stories of J.G. Ballard, complete with a selection of first lines from the book.

In addition, I’m pleased to note that I just turned in the introduction to Kiernan’s forthcoming 2010 collection The Ammonite Violin & Others, which reads in part:

Part of this authenticity—part of the reason I find them disturbing—comes from the simple fact that the people in these stories don’t really survive their encounter with the supernatural. Whether in, among others, “Madonna Littoralis” or the two “Metamorphosis” stories, this inability to survive can be literal or figurative, or both—and it occurs because the supernatural isn’t so much something terrifying in Kiernan’s view—it can be, but that’s not the true point. The supernatural to Kiernan is also something beautiful and unknowable in intent, and often wedded to the natural world. In a sense, trying to know something unknowable will always destroy the seeker.

(Also, I must mention Kristine Kathryn Rusch’s ongoing brilliant freelancer survival guide series, this time focusing on emotional setbacks.)

Now, on to books received. You want coffee table books, I’ve got coffee table books. Comics? Check. Novels. Yep. Story collections? Yessir, including two from Ramsey Campbell and the debut from Deborah Biancotti, A Book of Endings, which is presented in a sweet design from one of my new favorite publishers, Twelfth Planet Press (watch them–they’re smart, savvy, and when you get one of their books, you just know from the look-and-feel that they’ve got that extra little something that makes a publisher special). Pull back the veil and, voila! Books, for you. (And while you look at that, it’s time for me to go hike in a thunderstorm…)

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