"Scary scary scary scary solstice!"

(To the music of "The Carol of the Bells") 
Look to the sky, way up on high 
There in the night stars are now right. 
Eons have passed: now then at last 
Prison walls break, Old Ones awake! 
They will return: mankind will learn 
New kinds of fear when they are here. 
They will reclaim all in their name; 
Hopes turn to black when they come back. 
Ignorant fools, mankind now rules 
Where they ruled then: it's theirs again 
Stars brightly burning, boiling and churning 
Bode a returning season of doom 
Scary scary scary scary solstice 
Very very very scary solstice. 

The Carol of the Olde Ones, The H. P. Lovecraft Historical Society

My friend Chris got in touch with me about an exchange of seasonal gifts, so we met up this evening at a local pub.  Chris has an astonishing ability to select the unexpected when it comes to gifts, and this year was no exception, as he presented me (no pun intended) with a downloaded copy of An Abhorrent & Ancient Solstice, an album of H.P. Lovecraft-themed seasonal carols. The use of "seasonal" here isn't isn't political correctness -  with titles like Death to the World and Silent Night, Blasphemous Night, these are NOT Christmas songs.

I was a bit curious as to the origins of this unique gift, and after a bit of research, discovered that it had been produced by The H. P. Lovecraft Historical Society.  The HPLHS was started in 1986 by a group of friends in Boulder, Colorado, and now has over 2,000 members worldwide. The group produces a wide variety of H. P. Lovecraft-themed material, including props, fonts, and, of course, music.

 

If this album is an example of their work, they have high standards - the production values are professional, the vocals are excellent, and the lyrics are quite well written.  It's so good that it's a bit subversive - it would be very tempting to replace the standard shopping mall muzak with this album and see if anyone was actually listening to the lyrics.  All in all, a great unique gift, and, in its own way, completely appropriate for the season - thanks, Chris, and I hope you have a very scary Solstice.

-  Sid

Resolute.

I was doing some seasonal shopping on Main Street last Saturday, and decided to take a bit of a break and pay a visit to Pulp Fiction, an excellent book store that features a wide selection of both new and used books.

I wandered back and forth along the shelves of the science fiction and fantasy section, morosely straightening books as I went*, and after half an hour, I left empty-handed and a bit depressed.  Why?  Because I didn’t know which books I didn’t already own.

So, as an early New Year’s resolution, my plan for 2020 is to catalogue my library.

 

Given that I have thousands of books, this seems like a ridiculous undertaking – how bad is your OCD if you need to record the names of all your books, for heaven’s sake?

However, this isn’t about being compulsive, it’s about management. I’ve crossed some kind of threshold where I am unable to keep track of everything that I own, and as a result, what I want to buy.  I have a pretty good feel for the majority of my collection, but if someone asked me if I wanted a copy of the Ace Double edition of Planetary Agent X by Mack Reynolds, backed by Kenneth Bulmer’s Behold The Stars, I’d be a bit stuck. I own about 60 Ace Doubles, and whereas I can recognize most of them on sight, some of them I just don’t know offhand,** and those are exactly the kind of lesser-known niche purchases that I’m interested in these days.

The other side of this coin is the books that are so well known and familiar that I don’t think I own them:  this is why I ended up with two copies of Fahrenheit 451, and I actually don’t know whether or not I have paper copies of Brave New World and 1984.

I’ll also be creating a secondary list as I go: replacements. My collection has its origins in used bookstore basements, library discard boxes, dollar bins and yard sales, and as such some of my older books were more than a bit battered when I got them, not to mention the cumulative effects of time and handling – although at least I’m past the point of owning any books that are held together with elastic bands. (I think.)

There was a nice copy of Pat Frank’s cautionary post-atomic 1959 novel Alas Babylon at Pulp Fiction, and I know that I’m due to replace my Scholastic Books edition from 1970 (although, really, I’d love to get a matching copy, not just because I like to do that, but because it seems such an unexpected choice for Scholastic’s pre-teen library).

I also took a thoughtful look at some of the options for replacing my early Ace editions of Edgar Rice Burroughs, the ones with the Roy Krenkel Jr. covers and interior illustrations, with matching copies that are in better shape – but which ones?  Age isn’t the only factor, of course - I can’t imagine getting rid of my autographed copy of Ursula K. Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness, regardless of wear and tear.  (Fortunately I have a hardcover copy as well.)

And that’s the last reason for my resolution: duplicates.  In some cases, such as the one above, there are actually good reasons for owning two copies, but in others, it’s simply because I didn’t remember that I already owned that book - which takes us back to where we started.

Behind all of this looms the unthinkable possibility of actually getting rid of books that aren’t damaged or duplicates, but rather just ones that I don’t need to keep. Obviously this goes against the grain, but let’s be honest, there has to be a book or two in there that I shrugged indifferently after reading, but shelved regardless.

Oh, and I’d also like to start off 2020 by losing ten pounds, but by comparison, that seems like a much easier undertaking.  Regardless, let’s hope that both of my resolutions come to pass in the coming year.

-  Sid

* Sorry, but if someone has left a book sticking out from its fellows, decades of book ownership compel me to push it back into place.

** I carefully chose this example from an online list of Ace Doubles, and having done so, I had to get up and look to see if I do have it. As it turns out, I don't, but in the process of looking, I found three Ace Doubles that were duplicates - and so it begins...

 

"I find your lack of pivot tables...disturbing."

Another workplace Christmas potluck has come and gone, and once again, my Secret Santa has chosen to go rogue and ignore the suggestions from this year's Geekmas posting.  However, full points for staying within my area of interest, and I always like an unexpected gift - not to mention that I actually now have a collection of head-shaped mugs to which I can add this sterling example of Art Vader.

The down side is that, realistically, head-shaped mugs aren't terribly practical for actual daily use, due to the challenges of keeping their convoluted interiors clean.  (Note to mug manufacturers - I know it would involve more clay, but maybe if the inside was cylindrical?)

Regardless of practicality, let's take a step back and look at the workplace potential for a mug like this.  After all, as graphically demonstrated in A New Hope, Anakin Skywalker sets a high standard for staff etiquette - not that I'm suggested Force choking anyone during the annual budget meeting*, but maybe having Darth Vader glowering at the person across the table would have a salutary effect on their delivery.

- Sid

* Come on, admit it, you've thought about it.

UPDATE: my wife has cheerfully suggested that as different people speak during the meeting, you just rotate the mug so that Darth is looking directly at them. As previously, this is how you know you've found the right person.