OK, so I purchased my hardback copy of Night Shift from eBay, a first edition (1978), or so it was advertised, and in near mint condition, or so it was advertised. Not a signed book, as I promised myself I wouldn’t (ever) buy a book signed by Stephen King from eBay, so I’m cool there.
As I hold the book and look at it, indeed it is near mint. The dust jacket lies flat, with hardly a crease or a smudge on it, and the pages are crisp, tight and have that lovely tan “certificate paper” color I so love.
The ink on the pages looks pristine as well. But what gets me is the smell. The book actually smells new, unused, as if recently just off the press. Apparently—and I’m guessing here—either the previous owner bought it and never read it (not even once), or, if she did, she read it with utmost loving care. Even with gloves on.
I am considering rereading some of the stories, and even read the Foreword (with care, prufrock, with care), but go no further. The book is in such fine condition I’m afraid (more about fear later) my eager and naturally oily hands will mar, stain and otherwise corrupt the pristine pages. I think (do that sometimes): What I can do is read the stories in paperback, or get the Kindle edition, which is (hello) electronic.
Sadly my original paperback copy of Night Shift was destroyed (devoured, a better word) by termites long ago. (Ironic, isn’t it? SK devoured by termites.) And I’m loathed to read an electronic version because I’m a romantic who likes the look, feel and smell of a new book. So it’s a quandary, which I will probably resolve buy buying another paperback (not necessarily from eBay this time).
Which brings me to fear. (Please stay with me as I will conclude soon.)
In the Foreword of Night Shift, SK gives a sort of exegesis on fear. Brilliantly done, as is much of his early work, fiction or nonfiction. Not that his later work is any less brilliant. But, hey, I just happen to admire more his “just out of the chute” early work.
His essay on fear, and why he writes about fear aside, there is a striking metaphor on p. xv of the Foreword I was much taken with (tortured syntax, I know, but bear with me). It is so apropos, so descriptive of what SK does in short fiction that it would make a wonderful title for his next collection of short stories. The Bazaar of Bad Dreams is cool, and Night Shift is the coolest title (in my view), but this title I am proposing would be a killer (no pun), I’m sure.
Naughty me, I won’t say what the title is (just two words), since you can look it up for yourself. I would respectfully suggest, however, one caveat for the proposed book of short stories. That it be dedicated to me (kidding!), and that each story be 2000 words or less. Why?
The title will suggest as much. And it would be a challenge: SK writing short, dark and sweet.
Thanks for listening.
As I hold the book and look at it, indeed it is near mint. The dust jacket lies flat, with hardly a crease or a smudge on it, and the pages are crisp, tight and have that lovely tan “certificate paper” color I so love.
The ink on the pages looks pristine as well. But what gets me is the smell. The book actually smells new, unused, as if recently just off the press. Apparently—and I’m guessing here—either the previous owner bought it and never read it (not even once), or, if she did, she read it with utmost loving care. Even with gloves on.
I am considering rereading some of the stories, and even read the Foreword (with care, prufrock, with care), but go no further. The book is in such fine condition I’m afraid (more about fear later) my eager and naturally oily hands will mar, stain and otherwise corrupt the pristine pages. I think (do that sometimes): What I can do is read the stories in paperback, or get the Kindle edition, which is (hello) electronic.
Sadly my original paperback copy of Night Shift was destroyed (devoured, a better word) by termites long ago. (Ironic, isn’t it? SK devoured by termites.) And I’m loathed to read an electronic version because I’m a romantic who likes the look, feel and smell of a new book. So it’s a quandary, which I will probably resolve buy buying another paperback (not necessarily from eBay this time).
Which brings me to fear. (Please stay with me as I will conclude soon.)
In the Foreword of Night Shift, SK gives a sort of exegesis on fear. Brilliantly done, as is much of his early work, fiction or nonfiction. Not that his later work is any less brilliant. But, hey, I just happen to admire more his “just out of the chute” early work.
His essay on fear, and why he writes about fear aside, there is a striking metaphor on p. xv of the Foreword I was much taken with (tortured syntax, I know, but bear with me). It is so apropos, so descriptive of what SK does in short fiction that it would make a wonderful title for his next collection of short stories. The Bazaar of Bad Dreams is cool, and Night Shift is the coolest title (in my view), but this title I am proposing would be a killer (no pun), I’m sure.
Naughty me, I won’t say what the title is (just two words), since you can look it up for yourself. I would respectfully suggest, however, one caveat for the proposed book of short stories. That it be dedicated to me (kidding!), and that each story be 2000 words or less. Why?
The title will suggest as much. And it would be a challenge: SK writing short, dark and sweet.
Thanks for listening.
Last edited: