I was delighted this week.

I’m delighted most weeks, to be honest, for one thing or another—to get a call from Ramsey Campbell asking if I’d be up for interviewing him in the Liverpool branch of Waterstones on 5 December.

Heh, how could I refuse, not least because (as Nicky and I would stay with Ramsey and Jenny overnight) it would afford another opportunity for me to prowl the multiple shelved rooms while negotiating the haphazard piles of DVDs, magazines, hardcovers and paperbacks stocked double and occasionally triple thickness totally covering entire walls. I tell you this, I’m tempted to say that if a book doesn’t appear in either Ramsey’s or my own nest of volumes then that volume may well not exist at all. I’m exaggerating, of course, but the point is there.

“Of course,” I said, “count me in.”

And so I set about coming up with something novel, some unusual way to tickle the interests of those folks visiting Waterstones on 5 December. And then, as these things happen every once in a while, the answer presented itself. This would be no mere interview—of which, to be fair, there have been many forebears. No, this would be Ramsey in conversation . . . and not just in conversation with Pete Crowther. Nossir. This would be Britain’s Finest in conversation with Horror Fandom at ITS finest.

I checked with Nicky, Mike and Tamsin at this week’s meeting—thumbs were in an upright position—and I just called Ramsey himself to check with him (after all, as Nicky would tell you, I have no shortage of ideas and not every one of ‘em is a winner).

So here’s the lowdown.

The questions to Ramsey, whose trilogy is causing much excitement here at PS Towers, will come both from the audience members PLUS from fans from around the world. All you have to do to take part is send your question to me at:

editor@pspublishing.co.uk

I’ll give a namecheck to the questioner (either in person or via email). And as something truly extra special, each person who asks a question will receive a book, either in person at the event or in the post to wherever they live.
So folks, be there.
Or be square.
Your choice, Joyce.

Now over to Nicky for this week’s update.

Thank you to all of the customers who have placed orders over the past month.

We have almost wrapped and posted them out to lands near and far so keep an eye out for the postman. One of the key titles, of course, is Stephen King’s deluxe NIGHT SHIFT. We've heard back from half a dozen recipients so far and the response has been tremendous. You folks make life a pure joy. We’re hoping to send more later today.

But it’s all a matter of juggling and there have been a few stragglers. The books we haven’t been able to post yet are the signed editions of most of the new titles that we launched at the convention in Chester.

THE WAY OF THE WORM (Ramsey Campbell) is waiting for a slipcase to be completed as is BY THE LIGHT OF MY SKULL. Talking of which, we had a small hiccup with the signing sheet so the sheets have had to be signed again.

OCTOBERLAND (Thana Niveau) and RIME (Tim Lebbon) are still having their signing sheets tipped in. The same goes for THE DARK MASTERS TRILOGY (by Stephen Volk) which has received well deserved praise from Folkhorror Revival:

"The Dark Masters Trilogy is a triumph, a beautifully written volume that takes the Twentieth Century’s most infamous practitioners of horror and the dark arts and places them into new scenarios."

folkhorrorrevival.com/the-dark-masters-trilogy

The signing sheet for Paul Kane’s DARK MIRAGES has to be signed by a few more people before they can be tipped in. We’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime here's what the British Fantasy Society had to say in this glowing review: 

"Whether you’re an avid fan of horror movies, or just enjoy the occasional bit of terrifying cinematic blood-letting, this excellent and eclectic collection won’t disappoint. It’ll thrill, it’ll chill and you’ll want to read it with the lights on."

bfs/reviews/dark-mirages-edited-by-paul-kane

We’re all of us really sorry that it’s taken such a long time to get the orders out. The whole team hasn’t stopped since we got back to PS Towers after FantasyCon and we had to put in numerous orders for more wrapping/packing materials—bubble wrap, tape, boxes and the like.

The deluxe edition of FLIGHT OR FRIGHT have not been sent by CD yet. Please check their website for a delivery update.

THE LONG WAY HOME by Richard Chizmar is with the printers. We expect copies of the unsigned edition by 13 November. The deluxe edition will be at least another month after that, as we wait for a slipcase and the signing sheets to be tipped in.

That’s all for now. Hopefully next week there will be more deliveries to tell you about.

Back to Pete.

And now, the big news

A few years back we discovered a small batch of signature sheets signed by Ray Bradbury—enough to accommodate, we decided, a lettered edition of 26 copies (A thru Z, Montgomery—it’s a lettered edition! Sheesh!), a single volume comprising the wonderful R IS FOR ROCKET and S IS FOR SPACE . . . and we’d also do a handful of numbered copies to go out to those folks who worked on the titles, now contained in just one single volume.

We did a three-book signed slipcased set of ROCKET, SPACE and FOREVER AND THE EARTH a few years ago, our first, and the forerunner of our three-book sets of ’SALEM’S LOT and THE TOMMYKNOCKERS but we thought we could do it all over again, only this time it would be even better!

There’ll be two states.

This time, close to 500 pages, with each story prefaced with some of the best b&w artwork we’ve ever seen from Glenn Chadbourne and the very best colour pieces from PS fave, Tomislav Tikulin.

The trade edition will be housed in a full colour illustrated slipcase and will be limited to 1000 copies signed by Tomislav and Glenn.

Also, as announced last week, there'll be a deluxe oversized edition in an illustrated traycase—think of FEARIE TALES and SOMETHING WICKED and you'll get the picture. This edition is limited to 26 lettered copies signed by the artists and the man himself. As you can imagine we've already had significant interest in this edition and are duty bound to honour the letter requests from those who purchased the SOMETHING WICKED edition. There will be some spare copies and you can register your interest by writing directly to me at editor@pospublishing.co.uk.

‘I dedicate these stories to all boys who wonder about the Past, run swiftly in the Present, and have high hopes for our Future.’

—Ray Bradbury

From his introduction to R Is For Rocket

From 'The Fog Horn'

Out there in the cold water, far from land, we waited every night for the coming of the fog, and it came, and we oiled the brass machinery and lit the fog light up in the stone tower. Feeling like two birds in the grey sky, McDunn and I sent the light touching out, red, then white, then red again, to eye the lonely ships. And if they did not see our light, then there was always our Voice, the great deep cry of our Fog Horn shuddering through the rags of mist to startle the gulls away like decks of scattered cards and make the waves turn high and foam.

From 'The Long Rain'

The rain continued. It was a hard rain, a perpetual rain, a sweating and steaming rain; it was a mizzle, a downpour, a fountain, a whipping at the eyes, an undertow at the ankles; it was a rain to drown all rains and the memory of rains. It came by the pound and the ton, it hacked at the jungle and cut the trees like scissors and shaved the grass and tunneled the soil and molted the bushes. It shrank men’s hands into the hands of wrinkled apes; it rained a solid glassy rain, and it never stopped.

From 'The Dragon'

The night blew in the short grass on the moor: there was no other motion. It had been years since a single bird had flown by in the great blind shell of sky. Long ago a few small stones had simulated life when they crumbled and fell into dust. Now only the night moved in the souls of the two men bent by their lonely fire in the wilderness; darkness pumped quietly in their veins and ticked silently in their temples and their wrists.

   Firelight fled up and down their wild faces and welled in their eyes in orange tatters. They listened to each other’s faint, cool breathing and the lizard blink of their eyelids. At last, one man poked the fire with his sword.

From 'The End of the Begging'

He stopped the lawnmower in the middle of the yard because he felt that the sun at just that moment had gone down and the stars come out. The fresh-cut grass that had showered his face and body died softly away. Yes, the stars were there, faint at first, but brightening in the clear desert sky. He heard the porch screen-door tap shut and felt his wife watching him as he watched the night.

   ‘Almost time,’ she said.

   He nodded; he did not have to check his watch. In the passing moments he felt very old, then very young, very cold, then very warm, now this, now that. Suddenly, he was miles away. He was his own son talking steadily, moving briskly to cover his pounding heart and the resurgent panics as he felt himself slip into fresh uniform, check food supplies, oxygen-flasks, pressure helmet, space-suiting and turn, as every man on earth tonight turned, to gaze at the swiftly filling sky.

From 'The Rocket'

Many nights Fiorello Bodoni would awaken to hear the rockets sighing in the dark sky. He would tiptoe from bed, certain that his kind wife was dreaming, to let himself out into the night air. For a few moments he would be free of the smells of old food in the small house by the river. For a silent moment he would let his heart soar alone into space, following the rockets.

   Now, this very night, he stood half naked in the darkness, watching the fire fountains murmuring in the air. The rockets on their long wild way to Mars and Saturn and Venus!

Nobody draws you in like Bradbury!

It's fair to say that this newsletter would have reached you so much sooner but for the great man's ability to suspend all around you and take you on journeys of the imagination. And yes, I know, like many of us, you've probably read these tales over and over—and if you haven't, well what can I say . . .

Take Mike Marshall Smith's closing remark in his foreword to R IS IS FOR ROCKET:

There are famous stories in this collection. Stories that would make anyone’s Greatest Hits compilation. There are slightly less well-known ones, too, the neglected B-sides. All the tales with the power to make boys and girls of us once more, and wonder is cheap at any price. Take my advice and turn the page quickly, because something else Bradbury teaches you is this: The world will not always be the same. Not everything lasts. People die, and things change and the river will not always run. So love this life while it lasts. Be here while you can. And enjoy.

Enjoy.

Enjoy.

That’s pretty much it this week . . .

. . . save to say that I had planned a brief music interlude but that’ll have to be held over until next week. But the wait’ll be worth it. (Sorry, Paul.)

Big hugs to everyone out there in PS Land. Have a great weekend, look after each other . . . and, of course, happy reading.

Pete