GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #331: I BLAME GRADY HENDRIX

[Dedicated to Alicia and Chris. Thanks for the excellent conversation tonight.]

I remember when I was a kid. I worked at the library for minimum wage, which was $4.75/hr. at the time. So I couldn't afford to buy new books. I haunted used book stores, and what a veritable feast they were back then! Most of my personal library I owe to those used book stores. My God, what beautiful covers! Even if the book sucked, those covers were worth the price of admission.

And then something happened. Now I can afford new books, but I always loved the used book stores, like Ye Olde Bookworm from the last entry. There was another good one in Berkeley, but it died when the old man who ran it died. I try to stick to indie used book stores, but Half Price took over. But! There's still the Frugal Muse in Darien.

But the thing that happened? Suddenly these used book stores dried up in the horror section. They only had King, Koontz, Rice, Saul and, occasionally, Barker. It got to the point where I wondered why I went into these places anymore. It depressed me, and I tried to figure out why this had happened.

And then I realized that this thing coincided with the publication of PAPERBACKS FROM HELL by Grady Hendrix. Damn you!

(Just kidding. I've never met him, but he seems like a pretty cool guy.)

Horror fans around here descended on these used book stores looking for lurid and astonishing horror books with excellent covers. More like vampires in From Dusk Till Dawn and Vampyrrihic than Lestat and his ilk. And I couldn't find jack shit in any of my usual places. Not even in that one Christian used books place, and that's where I got Stephen King's coffee table book about the gargoyles.

Grady Hendrix's book took so much of that magic away from me hunting for used horror books in the wild. Again, no offense to him. But I missed that world where I could find weird shit that would probably illicit gasps from my fellow train commuters. I will never forget when I had JF Gonzalez's Survivor on the train. I was on the second level, which I never liked being on. It was a crowded day. I was reading the book, and I got the sensation of someone watching me. I looked down to see a commuter standing in the aisle starring up at me in horror. It's the Leisure edition.

But maybe all those people who bought the books with the lurid covers hit the plague and realized they needed to sell them off. Like the ghoul that I am (not a Brian Keene reference, more of an old school Boris Karloff reference), I picked up the books they sold back to the used bookstores recently.

But still. I blame Grady Hendrix for putting me in this position in the first place. *sigh*

EVERYONE'S GOT ONE #33: USED BOOKS AND THE PEOPLE WHO OWNED THEM BEFORE YOU DID

Many of the books in my library were bought from used bookstores or library sales. A lot of them contain notes in the margins from the previous owner. Sometimes, the notes are better than the book. But my favorite thing to do is to figure out as much as I can about the person who used to own the book.

As I write this, I am reading THE WAY OF ALL FLESH by Samuel Butler. I like the message, but it's a book I just can't seem to get into. I also don't think I'd be able to get along with the person who left his or her notes for me to find. Let me tell you what I can gather from this person.

This book was read for class by a person who went to college in the late 'Sixties. I know this because on the inside cover of the book, it says SEMESTER 1 67-68. I'm going to deduce that it was college reading because I don't see this book being assigned to a high school student.

The previous owner was probably a man, since the handwriting is a bit spidery, and he was probably right-handed, due to the slant of the writing.

He did not like this book at all. After some chapters, he has written the word STOP, to remind him that he doesn't have to read any further for the next class discussion. He also takes very few notes. The passages he underlines aren't particularly interesting, indicating that he might have underlined them just to show he actually opened the book.

I am certain that a fellow student helped him with this book, because later on I see someone else's handwriting, and the insight is a lot more interesting than earlier in the book. I also believe that this person was a woman, considering the enlarged, sweeping lettering.

Lastly, the previous owner had no respect for books. On the very last page of this book, he has written down a math problem, clearly regarding the pages as nothing more than scratch paper.

Am I the only one who has this habit? I can't be. There are a lot of readers who follow my posts. Anyone else want to share their own Sherlock Holmes-like investigations?