Subterranean Press; A Book Review.

In this series I'm going to evaluate the quality of book manufacturing from various publishers. I intend only to focus on the quality of the physical book itself. For previous comments on Easton Press, Everyman's library, Franklin Library, and what I deem "The mass market Hardback" please see the respective links.

Subterranean Press is a small independent press with a strong focus on fantasy and science fiction though they publish outside those genres. All of their books are of a 'limited edition' nature with high quality paper, sewn signatures, and no heed for the cost of ink; often printing with multiple colors. They feature small print runs; many of which are signed by the author, and create instant exclusivity. Subterranean Press publishes cloth bound and leather bound books. This review will only take the cloth bound books into account. I hope to own enough of the leather bound books to offer my comments soon.

The quality of these books are on par with those from Everyman's Library: top notch. The paper is an archival off-white, and the full cloth binding is very well done. There signatures are divisible by eight and seem to be on the large side; apparently at the discretion of the printer but have proven very durable. There standard Deluxe Hardback Editions run around twenty-five dollars and are worth the money if you are a collector, have interest in the author or have previously read the book in a different edition. The company has a very strong following that sometimes gobbles up all available copies of a book via pre-orders before it is released. This can make it difficult to 'get one's toes wet' if you aren't familiar with the author and are considering a purchase.

Collector's beware: Subterranean Press's warehouse staff seems to be nothing short of epochally terrible. It is all too often that the company newsletter announces it 'found' x number of copies of a previously sold out, out-of-print book. So if you're trying to sell them second hand for a profit I'd advise looking elsewhere. (I can admit that the preceding has nothing to do with book quality, but the frequency with which it happens and the books 'limited edition' nature makes me feel it was noteworthy.)

More than any other publisher I've come across Subterranean seems to go above and beyond when it comes to illustrations. Every one of their book covers are stunning; printed on a heavy matte photo paper to show off the commissioned artist as best they can. Many of the higher priced, signed editions will have multiple full color illustrations, all based on material from the novel, of course.

None of the Deluxe Hardback Editions I own features endpapers--which I think is a shame considering the limited edition nature of the books. The one signed author edition I do own does have endpapers and perhaps the price difference (my one signed edition is The Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte listing at $125, and no I didn't pay anywhere near that for it) is the deciding factor.

My one true gripe with the quality of these books is that of every one I own there was a big glob of glue near the spine on either the tail or top edge that was so prominent and offensive to me, that it drove me to an x-acto knife, and the utmost care, to remove it. While this errant glob doesn't effect the quality, it is poor fit and finish on an otherwise excellent product.

You need to know you like the material before you buy, but should you purchase from Subterranean Press you will be assured a unique and gorgeous addition to your library.

Franklin Library; A Book Review.

In this series I'm going to evaluate the quality of book manufacturing from various publishers. I intend only to focus on the quality of the physical book itself. For previous comments on Easton Press, Everyman's library, and what I deem "The mass market Hardback" please see the respective links.

In talking about the Franklin Library a few things need to be said up front: all Franklin Library books are out-of-print, they can't be purchased, 'new.' Furthermore, there are three very distinct classes of Franklin Library books: full leather binding, faux leather also called 'leather-ette', and the quarter bound. This commentary is specifically dealing with the faux leather collection.

These books were printed as a price alternative to the Franklin Library full leather editions, which had a great deal in common with Easton Press. Franklin Library printed lots of 'classics' as well as series of pulitzer prize winners, and even some contemporary fiction (contemporary as off 2000 when the company closed) among other collections. The books are wrapped in a vibrantly colorful cloth that has the look and feel of leather. They also have a decorative etchings on the cover and spine--which I hesitate to call gold or silver, and my research has turned up nothing definitive--as well as gilt page ends for protection and visual beauty.

All come with decorative endpapers, sparse illustrations that range from 'stunning' to 'more bland than white bread.' The binding is solid, sewn not merely glued, the paper is archival quality, and there are raised bands on the spine that really set off the title and author's name--as if they were framed--when viewed on a bookcase.

The faux-leather books by Franklin Library are very easy to acquire on various second hand markets and the price point is very friendly. I'll spare you my speculation as to why these books aren't around today, all that can be said is that it's a shame that they aren't.

A Binding Quandary

My copy--a first edition hardback--of Jerusalem Poker has fallen apart: page by page. Something with the storage of this book, I bought it used, went horribly wrong. I don't think the book was ever opened before I read it, however the glue that held the pages to the spine went dry and yellow long ago… and shattered into many little pieces.

Ever since I started my monthly book review concerning manufacturing, I have had an interest in binding my own books. I still do, but now realize that I'd never bind enough to justify the cost that it would take to get into such a hobby. But that doesn't help me right now.

I still have a copy of an out of print novel; perhaps the finest novel my eyes have come across (review of the novel and the series forthcoming) in four-hundred and five leaves plus the cover. Needless to say, I'll buy another copy for posterity, but I'd love to have this one re-bound 'a la' Easton Press and truly make it, "mine."

Quite a conundrum I should say.

The Mass Market Hardback; a Book Review.

In this series I'm going to evaluate the quality of book manufacturing from various publishers. I intend only to focus on the quality of the physical book itself. For previous comments on Easton Press and Everyman's library please see the respective links.

This review will be the biggest undertaking yet and one I've struggled with for quite some time. My self imposed minimum of book ownership for a review has been three--a low number all things considered, but one I think fair, considering the price and high consistency of the higher end publishers. This review encompasses more than twenty-six books from Bloomsbury; Warner Books; Doubleday; Tom Doherty Associates; Harcourt; Berkley; ACE; Little, Brown; Penguin Group; Farrar, Straus and Giroux; Bantam Spectra; Harper Collins; Putnam; The Dial Press; Knopf; and Houghton Mifflin Company. While I'd like to give each their fifteen seconds of fame, there is little to distinguish one from another in the realm of mass market of hardback books.

In considering such a large spectrum of materials consistent inconsistency is the common thread. Paper quality ranges from stark white office copy paper, ecru with speckled color marks (a sign of recycled paper) with that 'soft' insubstantial texture, to the standard fair one would expect from a 'regular old hardback book.' By and large most of the paper used from the major publishers and their multiple imprints is acid free (for greater flexibility) and all-around really good.

Tor has a penchant for decorative endpapers which is a small measure of class from from an unexpected source. The endpapers usually comprise of a random color, heavy card stock in the front and back with minimal texture. They add nothing to quality but are a nice nod to the past when book binding was more of an art.

The covers, not dust jackets, of all these books tend to be standard cardboard though some have cloth bindings. Very few seem to have full cloth coverings and there is something new out there that looks like cloth but is in fact not; a faux cloth if you will. There really doesn't seem to be rhyme or reason as to what book gets what binding other than publishers whims. A sad fact when considering the varying size of books.

Door stoppers get no special treatment and their added girth isn't expected to hold up as long. Indeed after a single reading some will seem to have incurred substantial wear. Little, Brown and Knopf seem to be publishers of "Giant f------ Books" among other things, and they would be wise to take special measures to ensure the pages don't separate from the cloth strip on the spine and the cover itself. However, I'm not sure there is much they can do. I do own several of their copies where the only thing holding the cover on are the end pages (not a good sign). In the case of the big boys, I think the trade paper back editions are all around better: you get the hardback formatting without the threat of the spine breaking or covers wearing out (off?) assuming the book is treated with due respect of course.

Publishing head scratchers persist in book manufacturing as they do in marketing. By and large, books that are expected to sell less get some special treatment while those writers who sell in great quantity receive only standard fair. Susanna Clarke's "The Ladies of Grace Adieu" is fully cloth bound with beautiful artwork and print on the cloth complete with endpaper and deckled edges. I can't imagine this collection of short stories (from one I wouldn't consider a short story writer) sold very well but, the production values are extremely high. Meanwhile, eternal best sellers such as Frank Hurbert's Dune or The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova receive little more attention that a mass market paperback. I'm sure it all makes sense to someone but, it seems that the books that sell are very far from the books that are made to last. Speaking of deckled edges…

I hate them. Yes they look nice and have a appearance of antiquity, but we have paper cutters for a reason; I call said reason progress. Combine deckled edges with the super 'soft' recycled tissure paper feel that seems to absorb moisture from my fingers and you have an actual page turning issues. As with most issues in this review, which ever way the wind blows seems to be the deciding factor on whether or not a book receives deckled edges.

My biggest complaint with all books of this quality from these types of manufacturers is that of cost. 'Mass market hardbacks' cost marginally more to produce that paper back books, yet at retail they are substantially more for what is essentially the same quality. Hence the reason I do the vast majority of my hardback book shopping in the bargain bins and from selections of publishers remainders; at those prices I feel I actually get what I pay for.

We all know these books. We all have many of them. There are exceptions; the previously mentioned "Ladies of Grace Adieu," Houghton Mifflin collector's edition of The Lord of the Rings (finally a lasting piece of 'literature' printed in a lasting format!) and Doubleday's unique--though by no means better quality--cover to The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon (and I'd love to hear exceptions from your collection!) but for the most part blah…

If I were giving grades in school I'd probably appoint a "C" as far as quality goes; they could be much better or much worse, but with no expectation of quality from such books it's hard to judge them.

Everyman's Library; a Book Review.

In this series I'm going to evaluate the quality of book manufacturing from various publishers. I intend only to focus on the quality of the physical book itself.

Everyman's Library, by Knopf, is Random House's high-end book press; specializing in reprints of classics works of fiction, philosophy, poetry, history and much more. The catalogue, so far as contemporary fiction is concerned, seems to focus on 'literary fiction.' Authors like Toni Morrison, John Updike, and Margaret Attwood (and a huge handful of others) are what you can expect in terms of recent additions. Everyman's Library has an emphasis on acquiring what they deem to be the very best fiction and publishing it in the very best of conditions. In terms of the physical book, they succeed quite admirably.

The high production values are evident if you look for them: cloth binding, silk page markers, off-white heavy paper, and sewn signatures. Yet there is nothing in the host of details Everyman's Library presents that would draw attention to itself. One of the primary things I like about Everyman's Library is the consistency in size of their books. There are, of course, no universal specs on book dimensions, but not all publishers manufacture books to the same dimensions and while it doesn't affect quality in the least bit it is a visual aesthetic that I'm sensitive to when viewing a bookcase. There is, however, a small intentional inconsistency in the print of Everyman's Library's books: the color of the cloth binding.

Each color represents a different designation of genre as defined by the publisher. Poetry is one color, while 19th century works are another. Not a issue or even a point of interest unless you remove the dust jackets; whose standard bar codes are the only thing that can really be said to mar an other wise timeless and universally appealing edition.

In reading the ten-fifteen or so books I own from this collection I have seen great differences in the font sizes used and spacing of the words on the pages. Perhaps it's my poor eye sight (or perhaps it is page count of certain books) but some volumes require a bit more squinting to read than others. That being said it is an issue I can't really fault the publisher for; it's a battle to elegantly publish the mammoth works of Dostoevsky and others and keep the amount of paper used at a reasonable quantity, and it's a task I would say they, overall, manage very well.

Everyman's Library should be standard fair in hardback book publishing. At the cost they sell for new, I can't believe that their extra efforts add that much to the cost of production. Sadly, their quality is not the industry's bar. Everyman's Library is nothing so special as to make one say, 'ohhhh, and ahhh.' Much as I said about Mount Gay Eclipse Rum Everyman's Library is merely everything done right yet nothing stands out: an exceptionally well-made book built to last, and by that virtue alone they are a cut above the rest.

Easton Press; a book Review.

In this series I'm going to evaluate the quality of book manufacturing from various publishers. I intend only to focus on the quality of the physical book itself.

Easton Press is to books what Bösendorfors are to pianos: perfection. No expense is spared, nothing is left wanting, and long after the novelty of initial acquisition has faded appreciation can still be wrought. Many books in the Easton Press Library composes of public domain works and "the classics," but they also publish newer fiction; works they feel will be classics in years to come. In terms of contemporary fiction it's nice to see Gene Wolfe, Toni Morrison, and Gabriel García Márquez given the same treatment and held in equal regard as Fitzgerald, Proust, and Faulkner.

Full disclaimer: I own three works from Easton Press; all of which were bought from Atlanta Vintage Books, in 'mint' condition as defined by a book antiquarian. All have full genuine leather binding, 22 karat gold lettering and art on the front and back covers as well as guilt pages, thread sewn pages--not merely glue, raised bands on the spine that add a visual interest and an antique look, and a silk page-marker sewn into the binding. Think of Easton Press as the Henle Edition of literature: these books aren't going to fall apart, unless you try to take them apart.

While the books are expertly made, ironically the end result is that of a really old looking book. The gold trim, and cracked leather binding instantly give off the vibe of a much older product. The nicety of these products is that they are brand new, have the antique feel, and are heirloom quality.

There are discrepancies though. Oddly enough paper is the issue when most in publishing bemoan the cost of ink. Not all books come with the moiré silk pages in the front and back. (And if you've never experienced a silk 'page' it really is something to see. It's as decadent as it sounds.) The paper quality--texture and thickness--varies. All of the paper Easton Press uses is phenomenal and head-and-shoulders above other publishers, but it isn't consistent from book to book. Again, the 'poorest' of their paper is far better than most; the issue is only noticeable when multiple volumes are compared.

The price of these books will knock a casual book buyers on their ass, but for a collector or those who really appreciate a job done to the highest degree of quality Easton Press is worth the money. The summary is easy: There is no better book being made today.

No new acquisitions

So I went back to Atlanta Vintage Books yesterday hoping to trade in the last pile of craptastic books in my collection; it's a meager stack of eight. It's hard to describe what seventy-thousand books in one place that isn't a library look like. Apparently they had reached something close to maxium capacity and were not purchasing books at the present (or at least not my books).

I was disheartened for a moment and put my stack back in the car. Then I went back inside to browse. I skimmed the Easton Press bookcase looking for gems that arrived since my first visit or ones I had previously missed. I resisted the Proust and Flaubert and kept looking elsewhere until toward the back of the building I came across a stack of books about three feet tall that comprised of Easton Press, Heritage Edition, and Franklin Library books.

Yeah, there was an offering of books--on the floor--from the three best quality book manufactures in the world; on the floor. Once I was able to put that into context it was easy to understand why they didn't have need for my stash. Retail space in that part of town is too high for what I was offering. Even the literal space on the floor.

Captain Alatriste by Arturo Pérez-Reverte

Considering the millions of copies the author has sold, it’s a bit absurd to say but, ‘Why aren’t more people reading his work?’ For me, Captain Alatriste is a unique, obvious labor of love and displays an innate gift for cinematic presentation due, no doubt, in small part to the author’s background as a war journalist.

I recall David Fulmer saying at one of his writing workshops, “Make your setting a character. The primary character. If not, it will be boring.” Like the best of advice it’s simple, but rarely adhered to. Historical fiction set in seventeenth-century Spain has been done before, but rarely—if ever—has it been done this well.

The plot is straightforward, perhaps even simplistic: an ex-soldier turned sword-for-hire discovers his conscious has limits to what it will suffer after accepting money for murder. Many of the characters feel familiar, and due to the sheer quantity of them I’d expect further development in later installments. What sets characters and events apart is the world that has shaped Madrid of the time. The setting makes characters what they are, and at times seems to define them and even force their hands. Unlike most writer’s characters the cast of Captain Alatrise couldn’t be picked up and placed in a derivative world or even Paris of the same time; they would be completely different as would the story. This is Spain as portrayed by one who loves its history and isn’t merely content to tell you about Madrid, but wants to take you there and give you a tour. There is an authentic layer of grit to this book that I don’t think I’ve encountered before with any other writer.

“When (Spain was) good, it was very good, but when bad, far worse than bad. It was the era of quixotic, sterile deeds that determined reason and right at the imperious tip of a sword."

The above is such a general statement in comparison to the minutiae of everyday life given in the novel. I’m always hesitant to quote an author’s prose in my commentary, and to do any more would be to deprive a potential reader a real treat in experiencing it for the first time. Pérez-Reverte’s prose alternates between succinct clarity, and being as florid as the naming structure of the times he is writing about, e.g. Álvaro Luis Gonzaga de la Marca y Álvarez di Sidonia, Conde de Guadalmedina. However, the writing is far from tedious; it yields credibility and style, the latter of which Pérez-Reverte has in abundance.

Most enjoyable of Pérez-Reverte’s writing is his resolution of tension. Considering the story and the characters, it would be easy to think that all points of conflict are concluded in a hackneyed, fantasy-like sword fight, but this is drama of a theatrical sort. Despite all of Pérez-Revere’s organic cinematic flair this is not the action movie-book you’ve been waiting for, rather the ass-kicking is inconsequential gravy.

There are some questions concerning the translation: clichés are occasionally used where perhaps idioms were lost; and due to the historic—archaic, by today’s standards—prose style and language, some of the word usage is either phenomenal by even Nabokov’s standards or a loose/poor approximation of what was intended by the Spanish. (Me and my modest use of the English language; I was sent reeling for a dictionary a few times.) There is also a good bit a poetry that naturally suffers from merely being translated, but not so much as to lose its meaning or not be enjoyable. I’ve been too lazy to read the Spanish text though I own it, but I may spot check a passage here and there. The book is eminently ‘readable.’

Background comfort with a romance language may impart slightly further understanding (Fray Emilio Bocanegra ‘black mouth’ and Gualterio Malatesta an Italian name meaning something akin to ‘not-right-in-the-head’ and all connotations that go with such a names) and knowing the subtle differences between ‘chevalier,’ ‘hidalgo,’ and ‘caballero’ are helpful, but the fact that this is a translated work shouldn’t scare anyone off.

Perhaps the most obvious question concerning the writing is also the easiest to overlook: the narration. Captain Diego Alatriste’s page, Iñigo, tells the events of the story at least twenty years after they happen. He was thirteen and only learning to write when the story takes place, so not even to question his recollection and memory I did wonder how he gained much of the information that was given to the reader when he was not immediately present—which Iñigo admits, was more often than not. It becomes a difficult detail to ignore as we are shown Alatriste’s taciturn nature and utter inability to brag or even mention his exploits. Iñigo has an odd place in the story; he is part of it, yet concurrently very detached. Pérez-Reverte easily diverts reader attention from this issue by way of being an exceptional story teller and the answers possibly lie in forthcoming installments.

As if I already didn’t want to keep reading…

It’s a good looking book too. The authors name, with its near symmetrical location of the letter ‘R’ through three names, hyphens and accent mark looks fabulous and even slightly exotic in print on the cover. These are the first hardback books from Putman I can recall owning. They are nothing exceptional but the little things are done well: a nice typeset, great spacing, and a unique but easy-on-the-eye font.

While it is the first book in a series, of which the first five are available in English and hopefully the others coming soon, this entry stands alone. I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that I’ll follow Captain Alatrise as long as Pérez-Reverte keeps writing about him. This work falls into a very particular genre: books-you-should-be-reading.

As to whether or not I’ll have commentary on the other works concerning Diego Alatriste that depends solely on Pérez-Reverte. If he merely copies the mold set down in the first installment, I doubt I’ll say anything further, but I have a feeling he won’t. It is evident that he has too much skill and creativity to rehash material. At the moment, I am more than content to find out for myself by reading the next book.

Atlanta Vintage Books

With used book stores I find it best to go inside without an agenda. If there is something specific you want, sure look for it but don't be surprised with what end up purchasing.

This is a store I had to tear myself away. A prior dinner engagement on the other side of town hastened me away and probably saved me a good bit of money as well. I need to dedicate a Saturday morning to going here in an effort to take it all in. I would also need a second job to shop here with regularity. (Actually, I need a full-time job, right now...)

I've already failed in my effort to not buy any books in the month of March so I didn't feel bad about the two I picked up today. The Dispossessed by Ursula K. LeGuin and Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgenev as translated by Constance Garret. (I usually limit my Russian translations to Richard Peaver and Larissa Volokhonsky but I seem to recall an interview where they greatly endorsed Garrent's work and haven't seen the need to do their own translation.) I've been wanting to read LeGuin for a long time, and I have been without any nineteenth century Russian literature longer than I would like.

Now to make you jealous. These are Easton Press Editions I purchased. In mint condition as defined by book antiquarians. I had never seen, or heard of these wonders of print until today, and I'm still blown away. The amazingly thick and textured paper, binding, and type surpass even what I had previously thought to be the pentacle of modern printing, the Everyman's Library. The ornate leather binding, and gold gilt edges combined to make you think of a brand new, really old book.

If you have the cash, and really like the book you are considering, they are well worth the price. If you find them as I did--in a used, second hand store-- in mint condition for twenty bucks a piece, you have to buy them. I'm here to tell ya, you may find no nicer book ever assembled than the Easton Press Editions.

These purchases bring to mind and interesting quandary and one I'd never thought to entertain before. Being these books are collectors editions, and perfect, should I got to the library and check out copies I want to read? I know myself too well. I'll read these, and enjoy them for the literature they are and the appreciate the art of the physical book, themselves. The illustrations rock something fierce for the record. Talk about, 'bringing the awesome...' Happily they are both short, so I won't have to worry about taking them around with me while reading. They look to be manageable in a small amount of reading time.

Now that you know how awesome I am because of what I bought today, I'm going to tell you why you should stop by Atlanta Vintage Books should you be in the metro area: it is a giant treasure box of stuff you didn't know you wanted, but upon entering you realize you can't do without.

Non-fiction is their staple, as is true with any book store, and they do a good bit of business with old books, like William Shakespeare's complete works in twenty volumes as published by blah blah and blah. As much as I loathe (and yes there is a difference between loath and loathe) the idea of people buying sets of books solely for looks, I do have to admit: those old books, look really cool. As do the 'new old' books I bought.

I was able to hold back and not go all out on the first edition, signed copies of Gone with the Wind or Atlas Shrugged simply because I've never made as much money as those books sell for let alone had as much expendable cash.

It's not Borders, or Barnes and Nobles, and things aren't filed or shelved as neatly as Amazon… but they do have a kick-ass espresso machine and pastry--both at no charge--in addition to providing a wonderfully unique and altogether pleasant book buying experience.

A terrible book

I want to be absolutely clear that when I say terrible I am referring to the book’s manufacturing: the construction of the book. As for the words on the page, I haven’t read them yet.

If you go to amazon and search for Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrlees you will find a few results. The first to come up is the one I purchased. Printed by CreateSpace, which is, as best as I can tell from their website a POD/self-publishing subsidiary of amazon.

I have nothing against such presses but this does raise some questions, least of all how they acquired the rights to print the book. The cover has a zoomed in pixelated picture that looks to be an extreme close up of the cover art from a previous Del Ray mass market paper back and is without doubt a copyright violation of some sort. (As Del Ray is more than creditable, for three dollars a used copy of that edition is probably preferable to the Createspace edition.) When the book is opened there is no library of congress catalogue listing, nor copyright information of any sort. All that is said before the table of contents is the title, the author and, “First published in 1926,” which combine to make for a very poor title page. Perhaps public domain is in effect, but even so that does not explain the reproduction of the cover art--no matter how altered it may be--without permission or accreditation.

The paper is standard office stock, the binding is laughable. I think it would be apparent to the untrained eye that this book was made in someone’s basement. I have seen many and own a few self-published books. All of them were more professionally done than this. If you are a lover of books and enjoy creating your own library I have no doubt that my complaints will become your own should you purchase this edition. The alternatives are an edition by the now defunct BORGO PRESS, Cold Springs Press (which amazon reviewers have also bashed in terms of quality of book construction) and the apparent diamond-in-the-rough Wildside Press.

I do not own any books printed by Wildside but judging from their website and the authors they represent I think they are legitimate, though I would welcome any feedback from any who know. I searched for this book on amazon’s Canada site to seek alternatives after seeing what arrived in the mail and was fortunate enough to stumble across Wildside. For whatever reason, they do not appear on any page of the amazon US site. Sadly, they do not have a “look inside” option to check out the formating. Should you be interested in Lud-in-the-Mist, THIS, is the edition you should purchase. Without seeing it, I have full confidence it can't any worse than the competition and judging from the books they publish I have a feeling it will be infinitely better.

I don’t expect all the books I buy to posses the master craftsmanship of Random House’s Everyman’s Library, but I do expect a lot more than this for my hard earned money. Having only gleaned the first few pages I have no doubt that I will have better things to say concerning the content of the book than the quality of it’s construction and I look forward to saying those things shortly.