Last post, I showed a picture of some books from my early reading days that I found in my parents’ basement. They’re only a smattering–the ones that never were lost/loaned/stolen like many others. They represent the tip of my sci-fi/fantasy boyhood iceberg.
Then there are the books that were never stored in my parents’ garage because I hung onto them. They’re on my bookshelf now, either because I still read them or because I’m too nostalgic to let them go:
- Edgar Rice Burroughs Mars stories. A Princess of Mars through Master Mind of Mars. Massively wonderful adventure yarns with a surprisingly postmodern narrative frame. When I read a late ’90s Gabriel García Márquez interview where he mentioned loving Burroughs, it validated my ongoing love for something that had become a guilty pleasure.
- Tim Powers’s The Anubis Gates. Hasn’t left my shelf since I bought it from a grocery store book rack. I’ve read it more times than I can count on fingers. Love the way he treats magic. Has my favorite plot reversal and my favorite use of a pop song in a novel.
- The Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy trilogy. Loved these, and the radio show, and the TV series. First book I remember laughing out loud while reading.
- Doc Savage #101/102: The Pharaoh’s Ghost and The Time Terror. They were still publishing these as two-for-one paperbacks when I was a little kid. Glad I had this when I rediscovered Doc as an adult.
- H. P. Lovecraft. Those 1980s Del Ray paperbacks with the eerie black-and-white covers ruled. Still, there’s something appropriately werid about them–they look very ordinary and very unnerving at the same time.
There are more. Just not enough space/time. And, what the hell, here’s a picture…