The SF Book Club remains on my mind. I’ve spoken to some people over the past day or two (no-one immediately connected with the Club), and read some of the reports being posted elsewhere on the net, and I’m coming round to the view that the Club isn’t going to close or be amalgamated. If that does prove to be the case, and it would be welcome, I’m guessing (and only guessing) that the Club would pretty much stop publishing its omnibuses and unique editions, and focus on simply reprinting existing trade editions. While I think that would be a pity, and make it less interesting to me, it would mean it would remain an economical option for many readers, which is an ok thing.
In the meantime, I’m thinking about working up something for this space on the Best Short Novels series. I’ve definitely NOT given up on the series, and hope to continue it in some way next year. With that in mind, I will be talking to the Bookspan people about next year’s volume, while also looking to other options. One thing that lovers of the BSN series might want to consider doing, in the meantime, is picking up a copy of the Prime edition this September. It’ll be in all good bookshops, so it’s a good way to support the series.
It’s a little after ten o’clock on Sunday morning and I’m sitting quietly in the living room, nursing a mild hangover and listening to Neil Young. I picked up his Live at Massey Hall 1971 a while ago, and didn’t really get a chance to listen to it right away. I ripped it for the iPod, but that never means much, shuffle being what it is. Anyhow, I listened to it through a couple times last night, and it’s extraordinary. Young sits down, solo, in a hall and plays a bunch of songs he’s just written (as most everyone would know, songs that would become Harvest), and holds the audience in the palm of his hand. I saw him play live in 1997 and I know realise that his voice was already shot, and he was half way to being the self-parody that he’s become, but for a while there he was magnificent.
Marianne and I are going to take the girls out for dim sum and maybe a quiet wander through a bookshop, which is a pleasant enough way to spend a rainy Sunday. For the moment, though, the house is surrounded by kids. We have a bunch of young ones who live next door, and they usually end up running round and round out place, chasing each other, and playing. It’s loud, but they usually enjoy it. I’m also getting ready to read a new Michael Swanwick story, which seems like a good thing to do. I do need to get ON with my reading, though. It’s not long till the year’s best has to be handed in.