Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts

Sunday, 4 January 2026

The Dark Side of the Shop (RPG All, Bookhounds, Campaign Design)

Hello! Happy New Year!

I'm going to start the year off by noodling with some campaign design notions and I thought I'd start with the Shop. 

I'm using Bookhounds as the primary example, but this concept can be used in any RPG setting where the characters have a home base of some description. It might be a clubhouse. It might be the police precinct they all work at. It might be a railway carriage on the Orient Express, speeding through the night, but whatever it is, it's home to the characters. It's the place they retreat to, the place they store stuff, the place they go to when they want to make plans or brainstorm their way to success. 

It's Home.

It has its dark side. 

In a previous post on campaign design I said:

Let's say you intend to start with a small shop at the edge of the City, in the East End but trying to pretend it isn't East End, not really. Nobody drops their haitches in this establishment. You'd want to leave a fair amount of shop design up to the players but that doesn't mean you leave everything else alone. What's on the same street? Who's the main rival? What's the trade like? Is there a secret hidden under the floorboards or up in the attic? Do the drains work and, if not, what makes up the fatberg that's blocking them?

I'm going to use this East End shop as an example, and this is where we start talking about secrets hidden under floorboards and blocked drains.

The home base is something I expect the players to help design. Each person at the table should contribute at least one thing. Think of it like an ideas potluck. That means, among other things, that you can never be sure what will be in the home base. Which suggests that the dark side, whatever it ends up being, will start life disconnected from the home base's main concepts. After all, you can't establish links to something that just doesn't exist yet. 

No, But what you can do is make sure that the dark side you design remains true to Rome and the basic principles of the setting, whatever those may be. That way, you can retro-engineer your Dark Side to fit whatever ideas the players come up with. 

I mention the basic principles of the setting because it's important to remember that all settings have their quirks. We're using Bookhounds as an example. That means we're talking about shops, trade, auctions, customers, London. It's a completely different vibe to, say, Night's Black Agents, or Cyberpunk. Even if your NBA game is still set in London - at the Bull, for instance - it's a very different vibe from a Bookhounds London. A Cyberpunk campaign can still begin in London - it can even begin at the Bull - and yet be totally different from both Bookhounds and Night's Black Agents. This will determine the basic principles of the setting, which you need to establish in the opening arc of the campaign.

OK. In this example it's Bookhounds, which means basic principles are shops, trade, auctions, customers, London. We're using the East End as a location, which in the main book is the Abyss:

Since mediaeval times, the East End has been where London put its blood, its stenches, and its death: tanneries, slaughterhouses, and fulling-yards. The docks and canals brought steady work, along with injury and ague; the ships brought crowds of foreign sailors and workmen, and crowds of British whores and thieves. Gin-houses and music-halls sprang up, as did radical politics and dissenting cults. Homes were small and streets were narrow even in Elizabethan times; with factories, gasworks, and workhouses rising in the Victorian era, things got even worse. The East End became “the Abyss.”

Further, we already know that this shop is near the divide between the East End and the City, and that it's trying to pretend to greater status than it deserves. All these things feed into basic principles, which will help you design the dark side. 

That being established, we're probably looking at something in East Smithfield near St. Katherine's Docks. Something like Tower Ward, or near as dammit to it. In fact, we're looking at Stepney, within spitting distance of Whitechapel

Ahh, Already I can see plot beginning to form. 

A quick look at the vicinity and at St Katherine's tells me it was ridden with plague back in the day, that thanks to its connection with the wharves and trade there's all kinds of overseas influences, immigration, new ideas, and that the construction of the Docks back in the early 19th century destroyed a historic part of London and forced a lot of people to move on.

Sometimes the plot fairy just hits you over the head with a great big stick.

OK, pick a street. Any street, really. Somewhere in Stepney not far from the Docks. Roundabout the border of Whitechapel South and St George in the East South.  That's where the shop is. As Keeper you could invent a street and that would be fine. God knows London has created and lost many little alleys, avenues, Mews and Courts over the years. However, it can also be handy to use a pre-existing location since that location will have a history and sometimes that can be useful for plot purposes.

Cartwright Street is right opposite Swan Lane Open Space, which in the 1920s was a disused gravel pit. Formerly Churchyard Alley, apparently. Or Cartridge Street in Rosemary Lane, presumably depending on which end of Cartwright you were standing in. The whole shebang gets reorganized in the later 1800s when London rebuilds to benefit industry and put up housing for workers. Cartwright sounds much nicer than Churchyard or Cartridge, which presumably is why someone picked it. But with all this stewing it sounds like the perfect place for the shop. Cartwright, aka Cartridge, with the gravel pits just opposite. Disused, of course. Filled with water, in some places. 

The plot fairy's stick, again.

OK, that's more than enough to be getting on with. Let's Dark Side this.

The Shop (Bare Bones)

Location: Cartwright Street, aka Cartridge Street, Stepney, East End, near Whitechapel.

Immediate area: Residential, with Industrial nearby (disused gravel pits).

Age of Building: Georgian (George III) built c 1800 as the town house of a well-to-do merchant. Somehow avoided being knocked down in the 1880s. Used as a boarding house from c. 1870 until 1908, when it fell derelict. The Hounds bought it cheap. 

Style of Building: 3 storey residential, with cellars and attic. 

This is all information the players should be given immediately. They will be expected to add to the bare bones. Name the shop. All that sort of thing. But they need something to build their hopes and dreams on. 

If you really wanted to add to the bare bones, you could include a sketch plan of the town house. I'm bad at drawing, so I shan't be doing that. At best, I'd steal something from the internet. As far as internal walls and rearrangements go, I'd keep them where they are and let the players decide which room gets used for what.

The next bit is something the Hounds don't know about their new home. It's the Dark Side of the building. 

Now, there's a temptation to make the Dark Side all Mythos and supernatural. This is a horror game, after all. I'd resist that temptation. The supernatural ought to be rare, unusual, out of the ordinary. That's what makes it interesting. If it becomes ordinary or, worse yet, mundane, that's a problem for the game as a whole. 

The Shop (Dark Side)

Bad Reputation (Murder). In the early 1900s the boarding house which is now the shop was the site of a grisly murder, which gave the place a bad reputation. This is why the boarding house eventually shut its doors in 1908. Some of the older residents in the area still remember the killing, and the story has only grown in the telling. Details of the killing can be left up to the players. Treat this as a 2-point pool Bad Reputation, which can be invoked by the Keeper at any time to create an effect that impacts Credit Rating or similar spends.

Gang Activity (Cartridge Street). Originally called Cartridge Street because of the gun manufacturing industries in the area, it's now called that because of the Rough Lads that hang around causing trouble. They mostly gather at The Gun public house on the corner, but at any time their actions can impact the shop. Treat as a 3-point pool Rough Lads, which can be invoked by the Keeper at any time to create an effect that impacts the shop or its customers as they come and go.

Unpleasant Smells (cellars). There's something down there that stinks to high heaven. It isn't always evident. You can go for days, weeks, and not notice a thing. Then it creeps into your nose and will not go away. It's especially strong in the summer months, when sometimes the smell hangs round for days, even weeks. Treat as a 1-point pool Stink, which can be invoked by the Keeper at any time to create an effect that causes a Financial Reverse or prevents a Windfall.

Plague Pits (cellars, Mythos). Before the town house was built this was, during the time of the Great Plague, a spot where many of the dead were quickly buried. In the early 1700s it became notorious as a 'damned spot inhabited by the lost and Satan's servants' and in 1752 there was an exorcism that supposedly put an end to whatever it was that was troubling the place. When the town house was built, steps were taken to ensure that 'the holy place' was kept intact, marked with a magical symbol that Mythos experts know to be an Elder Sign. All this can be found with the appropriate Investigative spends, looking at old records or documents associated with the house. However, at some point since then the Sign was damaged, which is why, among other things, there is the Unpleasant Smell. There's just enough juice left in the damaged Sign to prevent the worst from happening, but if something should make the damage worse, well ... 

Now, of those four things, three can be dealt with. The Hounds can come up with clever ways to reduce the 2-point Bad Reputation pool, or the 3-point Rough Lads pool. That provides conflict and conflict breeds plot.

The Unpleasant Smell is more difficult and the Hounds will probably try various means to get past it. However, the effect can be nullified by point spends, if the Hounds prefer to ignore the problem.

That last one, though? That's a scenario's worth of adventure, right there. Waiting to be discovered.

That's it for this week. Enjoy!


Sunday, 16 November 2025

UK Books! Brighton World Fantasy Convention 2025

I have returned! 

Frankly, half the plane was coughing, spitting and imitating the soon-to-be-deceased so I expect any minute now I'll start imitating the Exorcist.


[brief follow-up: I did indeed catch the flibble or whatever it was flying across the friendly skies and spent the week following my return coughing, sniveling and otherwise illing. Che sera, sera. But I did play Dispatch three times, soo ...] 

While I have the energy to type, let me tell you about books, and about the one that got away.

Bought at World Fantasy Con 2025, Brighton, from various vendors:

The Dagon Collection: An Auction Catalogue of Items Recovered in the Federal Raid on Innsmouth, Mass (ed. Nate Pedersen.2024 PS Publishing)

The Starry Wisdom Library: the Catalogue of the Greatest Occult Book Auction of All Time (ed. Nate Pedersen, 2014 PS Publishing).

No prizes for guessing why these two appealed to me. I haven't read either yet and expect to data mine these for interesting ideas rather than fall prone in ecstasy at the prose, but you never know your luck. I look forward to having items from both catalogues appear in subsequent campaigns I might run.

Night's Black Agents, (Fritz Leiber short story collection, Sphere 1977)

Uncle Silas (Sheridan LeFanu, Transworld 1966). 

You can't beat the gothics, and while Leiber's more of a modern I can't help but think of him in the gothic class. There's something about his word choice, his stylfgfsdse, that makes me put him in that group. I look forward to reading them both; I tried to get into Uncle Silas on the plane but that was a mistake. You can't concentrate on a long haul flight. I watched Mr. Vampire: Vampire vs Vampire instead.



The Go-To Guy (Neal Hardin, 2018 Stairwell Books)

Both bought on a whim and I haven't read either yet, though I have started Go-To Guy. It's a laugh, but I don't take it seriously, which is probably why I haven't finished it yet.

Audition for the Fox (Martin Cahill, 2025 Tachyon). 

Bought on a whim, and I haven't started it yet. I like the idea, but by God the vendor made it difficult to spend money. I think the Americans were hoping that the buyers at a World conference were all going to be English and planned accordingly. That was silly of them.

Korean Folk & Fairy Tales (ed. JK Jackston, 2025 Flame Tree).

A very pretty little thing. K-Pop Demon Hunters made me realize I don't know as much about Korean folklore as I ought, so I figured I'd rectify that omission. 

Cold Steel: Book II Fire Heart (Joyce Ch'ng, 2025 Snowy Wings).

Bought from the author. Again, I haven't had chance to more than glance at it. I look forward to it.

Now, for a few things I didn't buy at the con, some of which I've actually read:

Strange Houses (Uketsu, translated Jim Rion, 2025 Pushkin Press)

The Samurai Detectives (Shotaro Ikenami, translated Yui Kajita, originally 1973, Penguin 2025).

Both bought at Waterstones. Samurai Detectives is vol 1; vol 2 isn't due until Feb 2026. This is the first time Ikenami-san's work has appeared in English. I've read both and highly recommend them to anyone who likes action, swordplay, historical drama (Samurai Detectives) and peculiar, terrible horrors (Strange Houses). 

Soldiers Three/Under the Deodars/Phantom Rickshaw (Rudyard Kipling, publisher unknown, publication date unknown, hardback rebound edition of works originally published at the turn of the century).

I don't know what to make of this one. It must be a reproduction but I've no idea who put it together or when. The only clue I have is a notation on the inner cover: bound by W.J. Askew, Plymouth. It's a hardbound version collecting three shorter paperbound volumes. Each paperbound is a faithful copy of books that would have been sold for One Rupee via the Indian Railway Library. I can't help but think this must be one volume from a larger Kipling repro collection of some kind, though it's not labeled as such and there's no indication on the frontispiece or back pages. It's a completely faithful copy right down to the advertisements, so if ever you wanted to know what was on offer back in 1890-whatsit, now you can. Probably very useful for those of you who like to mock-up props; a scanner and better Photoshop skills than mine will serve you well. Not sure when the reproduction was issued. Guessing by quality of hardcover, paper and spotting I'd say probably 1970s, but honestly it's a complete guess. Bought at Oxfam, Greenwich.

More Penguin Science Fiction; Yet More Penguin Science Fiction (ed. Brian Aldiss, Penguin 1964 & 1966).

Classic science fiction which means there shall be all sorts of unintended comedy, but I look forward to it. Various authors, of course. Bought at Just Vintage, Greenwich Market.

A brief word on the one that got away. 

Just Vintage has in its collection a first edition of an M.R. James publication, 1911, More Ghost Stories of an Antiquary. Selling for a little under 700 quid. Now, I'm a huge fan, as you know. I was greatly tempted. But our climate is death to books of that sort, never mind the roaches, and I'd be heartbroken if I was indirectly responsible for destroying such a thing as this, after a hundred years. So I left it on the shelf and am still gnashing teeth. 

Murder at the Black Cat Cafe includes Why Did The Well Wheel Creak (Seishi Yokomizo, translation Brian Karetnyk, 2025 Pushkin Press)

Suddenly At His Residence (Christianna Brand, British Library edition 2023, first published 1946)

Tour de Force (Christianna Brand, Library edition 2024, first published 1955)

All bought at Foyles.

I've a lot of respect for Brand as a plotter of mysteries. She plays fair. You know going in that you've as much information as you need to identify the culprit. You also know that your odds of doing so are next to nil. I've read both and can recommend to period mystery lovers. No, I didn't solve the crimes. 

Yokomizo-san is someone I've read before and enjoyed. He's basically pulp mystery; strange corpses, lashings of blood, peculiar and horrific events. Like Brand, Yokomiso-san plays fair. Also like Brand, odds are you won't work out who did it. Read this in the airport going home, can thoroughly recommend. 

The Sutra of Pale Leaves, (various authors/artists, Chaosium 2025)

Alien Clay, (Adrian Tchaikovsky, Subterranean Press 2025)

Both gifts, and I'm incredibly grateful.

I haven't had time to more than glance at Sutra, but from what little I've seen it's exactly the kind of campaign I'd enjoy. The Yellow King is one of those entities that deserves an artistic touch and by the looks of things that's exactly what it gets. I particularly like Chapter 4: the Pallid Masks of Tokyo - such an interesting idea!

What did I think of the convention? I liked it a lot. It lacks the go-to and busyiness of an American convention. It's less focused, less well organized. But it has a heart that some American conventions lack. I confess to a little bias in that I like Brighton very much and thoroughly enjoy visiting there. I had a little time to wander round and, if you find yourself in Brighton, I think you should visit Snoopers Paradise, the all-for-all flea market. Also, Coho is a great way to start the day with coffee and danish. 

Would I go again? I'm thinking about it. I'm told the 2027 con is in Canada and that's a hell of a lot easier to get to, from my perspective. I am in absolutely no hurry to make it to California in 2026. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening. But Canada? Canada's doable. 

Finally, uncle Kevin.

I stopped by Raining Books. It's as I remember. Shut up, of course. Lord knows what's going to happen to the place and I dread to think what the condition of the books in there is now. Never mind that leaky roof.  It's been nearly a year, and I doubt the builders have been in to patch anything up. But I was grateful to have the chance to stop by and say farewell. His ex-wife left a lovely tribute to his memory up on the door, and there were other posts as well.

See you later, mate.   
 


 


Sunday, 11 May 2025

Insects (Bookhounds)

 


Behold its antique glory.

First purchased in the early 1900s by a retiring Military officer who was coming to Bermuda to take up a Colonial job, later to live out his days in the subtropics, it has been in the same family ever since. Until now. The owners are going to the UK to be closer to their kids, the cost of shipping was exorbitant, the kids didn't want it, and I said that if their choice was between taking it to the dump or giving it to me, give it to me.

They did.

See, down here, antiques are not prized. Ironically, we have too many of them. Not that the island's a hotbed of things that would make the antiques roadshow crew weep with joy, no no. These are the midlevel items. The decent repair stuff, the slightly dinged, the much-loved. The local National Trust, which looks after old homes and heritage, is always overwhelmed with 'gifts' from people who can't bear to see granny's old whatsit go to the great furniture repository in the sky but who don't want to keep it themselves. The Trust hasn't the heart to tell them that granny's old whatsit is a fairly mediocre example of the brand.

However, I've wanted one of these for a while, because of our insect problem.

I like books. I think you know that by now. I do not like cockroaches, but I have them anyway - not by choice, mark you. Other insects too, for that matter. Some of whom are really far too fond of antiquated binding. Many's the time I've brought home something from the Argosy, put it down somewhere for a day or two, and found a hole chewed in it. See, the little beggars love them some leathery or leather-adjacent goodness, particularly if it's seasoned with dried-out bookbinding glue or old sinews.

There's a couple ways of combating this. A dedicated extermination campaign, for example. More difficult than you'd think, even with the off-brand and probably illegal insecticides you can get in the islands. Some form of internal climate control to reduce humidity and discourage insect activity, which does work but tends only to be available to the ungodly rich, since electricity on that scale costs a bundle.

Or one of these bad boys. 

Removing the books to a place where the insects can't get at them is great. Traditionally I've moved books that might be vulnerable to a place in the house I don't use for anything else; roaches tend to prefer living close to humans, probably because we leave crumbs and other goodies lying around. Now I can start putting the vulnerable items behind a thick glass door. 

It's not a perfect system. There's still risk involved. But it does work, or at least it works better than leaving things out in the open on an uncovered shelf.

There are all kinds of insects that eat books. I'm personally fond of the deathwatch beetle, that beloved staple of old homes and old ghost stories. Their distinctive tapping or ticking noise used to attract mates is what gives them their name. Ghost tradition has it that the knocking is a harbinger of death, and in old books like Bluenose Ghosts you can find ghastly tales of soft knocking on the door from hands that aren't hands - three of those, and you're sure to die within the year. 

Ironically there is biological precedent. The deathwatch beetle has a three-tap rhythm. Males usually tap first, and females tap only in response to males. A female responds within 2 seconds of a male tap. After the female responds, a male will tap again from 2 to 30 seconds later. 

Three ghost knocks.

When I was still in the building surveying trade I was assured that the deathwatch was on its way down the dodo's path, due to lack of available foodstuff. They like wooden wainscoting and similar things, which were prevalent in housing before the second world war but which died out with the modern building boom. Whether that's true or not I couldn't tell you, but that's what we were told.

Bookhounds touches on the subject of insect attacks but doesn't go that far. However, if worms which gnaw on wizards' corpses grow to become wizard themselves, it stands to reason that insects which gnaw on Mythos texts grow to be something hidjeous and vile. 

From which:

Deathwatch

Your store's staff are about to go on strike.

They claim to be terrified of the ghost knocks. Some maleficent entity must have come in the shop after the last big book-buying spree, they say, and ever since it's been haunting the place. Its knocking noise is causing a furor. 

That's not all it's causing. The Hounds notice that some of their most important texts are suffering insect damage. It's getting pretty bad, enough that the shop may suffer a Reverse. You can't advertise a copy of the King In Yellow as calf-bound first edition excellent condition if some little swine has nibbled chunks out of that binding. That brings it down to Reading Copy level pretty damn quick, with consequent knock-on to the price. 

Something Must Be Done.

What?

Option One: Crawling Chaos. It's not deathwatch, though it certainly sounds like deathwatch. It's actually Brood of Ehiort, which came in on the back of a house clearance in which texts beloved of the Severn Valley Cult were purchased. There aren't enough of them to constitute a simulacrum but more and more are breeding all the time. Left unchecked, eventually a pale man will form. Once that pale man forms it will start constructing a Fane in some forgotten part of the shop or basement, and soon after that it will start to contact other Brood in the area. A vast swarm could eventually gather ...

Option Two: Roach Swarm. A peculiar kind of revenant haunts the shop. It can only act through roaches, and it attracts roaches by the dozen. There are only a few of them for now, but they're forming peculiar patterns when they're on the march, and their blood leaves stains on the walls that are uncomfortable to look on. Time to start scrubbing the walls down and getting out the Blast-It bug repellent. Otherwise those roaches will take over the place, and that peculiar chant the staff are repeating will become more than just an earworm ...

Option Three: Enemy Action. This isn't an insect problem. It's a rival bookstore problem. Someone from a competing shop is dealing with its insect issues by making them march across to the Hound's shop. Every so often a staff member from the rival comes to the Hound's place and discreetly disgorges another batch. Perhaps they do this Great-Escape style by having the bugs hid up their trouser cuffs, or perhaps they leave a tainted book on the shelf like a calf-bound Trojan Horse. Either way, that shop's problem will soon become the Hound's problem, unless they take action.

That's it for this week. Enjoy!



Sunday, 24 December 2023

NYC Book Loot

Still a bit on the stuffy side but I have returned with spoils, so it's only fitting I talk about those spoils. I'm not going to discuss anything bought as a present; this is just for me. 

Head-Hunting in the Solomon Islands Caroline Mytinger, 1942, McMillan. Bought at the Argosy.

... we were unencumbered by the usual equipment of expeditions: by endowments funds, by precedents, doubts, supplies, an expedition yacht or airplane, by even the blessings or belief of our friends and families, who said we couldn't do it. We especially lacked that 'body of persons' listed for expeditions by the dictionary. We were a staff of two rather young women: myself, the portrait painter, and Margaret Warner, the bedeviled handyman, who was expected to cope with situations like God - if machinery was lacking, then by levitation. Her expedition equipment was a ukelele.

If that opening sentence does not tell you why I bought this book you have no soul. 

I'll only add that, once upon a time I was part of a team that worked on Pelgrane's Expeditions book. We spent such a lot of time calculating what an expedition might need, how best to simulate that in play.

Two middle class white kids and a ukelele. Jaysus H. 

They'd stop in a place for a while, earn a crust by painting portraits, and when they had enough in their pocket they set out for the next stop. Eventually they reached their destination, which they only knew about from books. It's pretty Trail-friendly; it covers an interesting part of the world in the right time period. But seriously, how could I pass this up?

The Pyrates George MacDonald Fraser, 1983, Knopf. Bought at the Argosy.

MacDonald Fraser is best known for his Flashman series, and those never seem to go out of print. His other books have vanished into the ether, for the most part. I got a copy of Black Ajax and Mr. American while I was in the UK, and I strongly suspect that those two remain in print only because Flashman or his antecedents appear briefly in them. His MacAuslan wartime comedy stories are still in print, but his own war memoir is more difficult to find. Pyrates, and his Hollywood memoirs, have eluded me. Now I have Pyrates. Can the memoirs be far behind?

Murder at the Manor, Final Acts: Theatrical Mysteries, Death on the Down Beat, all British Library Crime Classics, bought at the Mysterious Book Shop. 

Again, how could I not? Death on the Down Beat has a particularly interesting premise: a conductor is shot dead, and the shot can only have come from the orchestra. But which player could it have been? This one's a bit gimmicky but it's saved by brilliant writing, and the location - fictional UK town Maningpool - is worth stealing for your campaign, if only for its eponymous Lumps. 

Scandinavian Ghost Stories, edited by Joanne Asala, 1995 Penfield Press, bought at the Strand.

The Strand's mythology section isn't up to much but occasionally you find gold. Bought and read in the same day, which should tell you how much fun I found it. 

Dictionary of City of London Street Names Al Smith, 1970 Arco Publishing, bought at the Argosy

Well, that's the budget blown, I thought. I honestly wanted to only spend about a hundred at the Argosy. Silly me and my haughty airs. It is literally what you think it is: the title does not lie. Every so often there's a gem, and even if there isn't one on every page it's packed with information about Baghdad-on-the-Thames.

The Mafia is not an Equal Opportunity Employer, Nicholas Gage, 1971 McGraw-Hill, bought at the Argosy.

A useful little bridge between Prohibition and the 1960s, which means it's Noir Country. Based on investigative reporting by the author, who I presume is the same Nicholas Gage who was involved in Watergate's reporting though this book isn't listed among his published works. Which may mean Wikipedia got it wrong. 

Forgotten News: The Crime of the Century, Jack Finney, 1983, Doubleday, bought at the Argosy.

An investigation - more of a histori-fiction retelling, really - into the 1857 murder of Harvey Burdell in New York, and a half-dozen other 1800s-era misdeeds. Finney, the mind behind the Bodysnatchers, has a talent for this kind of work. 

The World And The 20s: The Best From New York's Legendary Newspaper, edited by James Boylan, published Dial Books 1973, bought at the Argosy. 

I mentioned this last week, but it's worth repeating: if you want to write historical fiction it is useful to know what they thought, said and worried about. You can't do better than by reading their news.

That's it for this week! Enjoy.


Sunday, 17 December 2023

2022

I have returned from New York and, while my journey was trouble free, not long after returning home some doorknob-licker passed on their head cold. I'm not dead but I'm a little stuffy so, rather than do a whole post on the loot - that will be a later post - I want to talk about one purchase:

The World And The 20s: The Best From New York's Legendary Newspaper, edited by James Boylan, published Dial Books 1973, bought at the Argosy. 

I trust you can work out why I bought this one. For a CoC & ToC enthusiast this is a no-brainer. History as talked about by the folks who were there to witness it, and to publish same in the New York World, Joe Pulitzer's paper. At this point in its run Joseph's sons Ralph, Joseph and Herbert run the show, with famed Herbert Bayard Swope as its editor. 

I shan't do a potted history - again, head cold - but at one point the boys in the print room decided to pontificate. What would life be like, they wondered, a hundred years hence? What would the United States be like in the year of our Lord 2022?

Well.

Shame to pass that up, really.

To begin: 

David Wark Griffith (yes, the fella who directed The Birth of a Nation) thinks we'll do our reading on the screen. Talking pictures will have been perfected (remember, this is published early 1923) and perhaps have been forgotten again. For the world will have become picture-trained, so that words are not as important as they are now. All pictures will be in natural colors, the theatres will have special audiences, that is, there will be specialty theatres

Absolutely spot on so far as it goes. However, he goes on to say that I do not foresee the possibility of instantaneous transmission of living action to the screen within 100 years. There must be a medium upon which the dramatic coherence can be worked out and the perfected result set firmly ...

He didn't anticipate reality TV, streaming or news broadcasts, and he has a writer's eye for content. Writers aren't always the best judge of what makes a good performance. Otherwise, very perspicacious.

Henry L. Mencken thinks the United States will become a British colony. Its chief function will be to supply imbeciles to read the current British novels and docile cannon fodder for the British army. Mind you, he also thinks that Woodrow Wilson will be a talking point in 2022. Sarcasm detected.

William H. Anderson thinks that Prohibition will still be in place. The beverage use of [alcohol] will be utterly unknown except among the abnormal, subnormal, vicious and depraved, which classes will largely have been bred out of the race in America.

Oops. 

Mind, this is the fella who did two years in Sing Sing for fraud, over the Anti Saloon League's bogus financials. That would happen about two years after this article was published.

Cordell Hull thinks that The principles of democracy being eternal, they will necessarily exist a hundred years from now, and the achievements of government through the application of those principles to changing conditions will logically be greater than they have been in the last 100 years. That there will be two political parties then as now seems almost inevitable ...

He's not wrong, exactly, but recent events seem about to make him a liar.  

Margaret Sanger thinks that Birth control will have become part of education in health and hygiene. Women especially will be keen in demanding it. They will realize that it is a foundation of freedom and intellectual development for them. Women cannot make real progress today so long as they are haunted by the fear of undesired pregnancy. The results, in much shorter time than four or five generations, will be happier homes, greater mutual respect between husband and wife, honeymoons lasting two to three years before children arrive, with husband and wife thoroughly equilibriated to each other, because there has been time for mutual understanding ...

Another one with their finger on the pulse. Ms. Sanger is a bit more optimistic about the end result than perhaps she ought to have been, but she nailed the details.

Mary Garrett Hay thinks that Women's drudgery in the household will be eliminated, her care of the family will be lessened, as new inventions come in and new methods of work. Broadly true. Keeping house is certainly easier than it would have been in 1922. Politically, women will be powerful. They will share with men the real constructive work of government. Many will hold office. If there is not a woman President, the thought of one will shock no-one. That last bit isn't 100% accurate but it's getting closer to 90%. Co-operation will be the magic word in 2022.  Oh dear. The thought bubble burst. Still, it was a good run.

John S. Sumner thinks there will be no censorship. I do not foresee a censorship over books in this country, nor any official censorship of the stage. Um. I mean, compared to the censorship that existed in 1922 he's not wrong, but ...

James Weldon Johnson thinks there will be no lynching or racial antagonism. The Negro problem will probably be reduced to a thin and wavering line of opposition to social recognition and intercourse. Long before 2022 such a primitive manifestation of racial antagonism as lynching will be unknown, for the reason that the Negro will be in a position not to tolerate it and the country will be sufficiently civilized not to want to indulge in it.

Again, compared to the situation as it existed in 1922 he's not wrong. He's a bit starry-eyed and optimistic, but he's not wrong.

What strikes me about all of these articles is how optimistic they are. Admittedly, the World wouldn't have printed doom & gloom. The bits here are only a selection of what was actually printed in 1923 but I suspect, for example, that anything which predicted a second world war or some kind of jeremiad against the future would have been toned down or cut.

The only exception is Mencken, and I wish he'd taken the assignment seriously. It would have been more interesting, even if he was flat wrong, to read his actual thoughts, not his scattershot attempt at humor. 

That said, consider: these are people who just came out of a catastrophic military conflict. Who just survived a global pandemic. Economic conditions aren't exactly rosy, not in 1923 at least (it would get better). Yet they are full of optimism about the future a hundred years hence. Not one of them predicts disaster, yet it won't be long before a global depression seems to threaten global anarchy, and fascism at home and abroad threatens the roots of democratic government. 

They think they can survive. Thrive.

It would be interesting to see a similar article written today. I wonder what thought leaders would say about the United States, and the future, a hundred years from now?

Sunday, 3 December 2023

The Gambler (Bookhounds of London)

First, housekeeping: I shall be in New York for a few days and so will not post on Sunday. It’s my Christmas trip. I’m hoping to see the Boy & the Heron while I’m there. 

On to the subject!  

Taken from Adventures in American Bookshops, Antique Stores and Auction Rooms by Guido Bruno, published 1922. 

The Gambler 

On Thirty-fourth, near Lexington Avenue, Jerome Duke has opened a bookshop of a peculiar sort. It is not exactly a book shop because there are antiques and curiosities all over the place. The books are thrown together topsy-turvy, Latin authors, modern novelists, theological books, old French tomes and German philosophers. I asked the proprietor about his books and his answer was: 

“I don’t know anything about them. I never read books and would not be bothered with them. I buy them at a certain price and I try to sell them at a profit. In fact, I intend to buy anything I can get cheap enough, no matter what it is. I went into the book game in order to gamble and I am going to gamble on anything that people bring in here. 

“There is one thing I have just refused to buy because the man wanted too much for it. He said that he had recently returned from Europe, had been a soldier, and wanted to sell me the embalmed finger of a German general. I forget the name of the general, but the man said that it was authentic and that he would sign a document before a notary public, swearing that he had been present at the time the finger was cut off of the general’s hand. Now, if he had asked fifty cents or a dollar, I would have been willing to take a chance, because it would make a good window display in this time of war; but he wanted five dollars, and I couldn’t see my way clear. That’s too much of a chance, to stake a five-spot on an embalmed finger of a German general. So I bought a slipper instead. It belonged to a Madame Jumel, and she is supposed to have worn it on the day that she got her divorce from Aaron Burr. I paid a dollar for it and I consider it a pretty sound gamble.” 

“How so?” I asked. 

“Well,” he answered, “because Aaron Burr was the second Vice-President of the United States.” Of course that argument was final, and I wished him luck with his purchase. 

Gutenberg can be a useful source of inspiration.  

They’re not all winners, but you can find some historical oddments and useful architectural drawings. The great thing is, even if it’s nonsense, it’s period nonsense told by the folks who were there, in their own words.  

Take that German general’s finger. I have absolutely no idea if any World War One generals lost a finger. Or, for that matter, two fingers. I couldn’t tell you which generals fought in the war. Not even Wikipedia can tell you that, though it does have a list of colonel generals if you’re at all interested. 

As a rule generals don’t die on the battlefield; they tend to succumb of some disease or other, safely behind the lines. At least, that’s the case for modern generals, and World War One is sufficiently modern for death by ouchie to be less of a risk. Lord alone knows how that finger came to be severed. Odds are pretty decent that it belonged to someone of less consequence than a general officer.  

However, as a period souvenir it ticks all the boxes. War plunder? Sure, why not. There might even be a little testimonial from someone who was there when the finger took flight. Trench art flourished during the war; I have a couple ashtrays made of artillery shells, for instance. People did make trench art out of body parts, and it’s within the realm of reason that someone might have made a reliquary out of bits of shrapnel. 

Plus, there’s the enterprising Jerome, who strikes me as a perfectly good foil for any Bookhounds game.

With all that in mind: 

The Duke’s Mess

Duke’s Head is the informal name for a bookshop in [pick a district] recently opened and getting a reputation. It’s a bit of a catch-all place; you can find anything there. About one step above a junk shop, really. No organization, no method. Some book scouts favor it as a hunting ground because the owner, Jerome Duke, apparently has no head for books – though some scouts say this is all a ruse, and Jerome knows more than he’s telling. 

Jerome Duke is an American, a former serviceman settled in London after the war. He says his people used to be Cockneys and he’s just reclaiming his roots, but his Noo Yawk accent is as thick as boot leather. He’s a manic gambler, card sharp and risk-taker. Cop Talk knows his shop is a well-known gambler’s house, with all kinds of illicit games in the back room after hours. It’s a regular shebeen, but so far Duke has avoided any consequences.  

Duke’s Head is best known for its collection of History, foreign Languages, and Craft. He does have some Occult texts but he doesn’t specialize in that stuff. He just picks up whatever’s on offer.  

The other thing Duke’s is famous for is trench art. He brought in a few things from his time in the trenches but after a while his collection grew and grew. If you want some odd bit from the war made of bullet casings and shrapnel, Duke is the fellow to see. He’s also the fellow to see if you want to offload trench art, and even ten years after the war there’s a plenitude of the stuff to get rid of. 

Duke’s collection includes an odd reliquary with a crucifix made entirely out of bullet casings. Inside the home-made reliquary is a mummified finger. Duke made this one himself and he won’t tell a soul how he got the finger, or why he thought it was a good idea to seal it up in this peculiar little artwork. 

Option One: Ghoulish Tendencies. Duke is a ghoul, made such by his experiences in the war. His American persona is one he adopted early on, and it stuck with him. He has other disguises, but Duke is the one he comes back to again and again – out of habit more than anything else. The finger is a memorial to his first official meal as a ghoul. 

Option Two: Megapolisomantic Guru. Duke speaks the language of cities and listens to their secrets. He settled in London because this is the best place to practice his craft. He may be willing to teach the art, or other Magick techniques, to people willing to devote themselves to London and its story. The finger is an artefact he’s crafted, which holds 4 points of Magick he can call on to help his castings. The pool can be refreshed every full moon, if he leaves the reliquary out in the moonlight. 

Option Three: Things Just Happen. Duke is one of those people who attracts problems. Occult problems. Mysterious problems. Maybe he just has one of those faces, or maybe he has a Drive that points him in the wrong direction. Take that finger, for instance. He cut it off himself, from a monster he says he encountered in the trenches. The monster – a vampire – would like it back but, so far, the vampire hasn’t been able to track Duke down. So far … 

Jerome Duke: Health 6, Scuffling 6, Fleeing 8, Firearms 4. Honest face, complete with Abraham Lincoln chinstrap beard; does not like loud noises; a friend to horses everywhere.  

Sunday, 13 August 2023

Books! Help! Books!

 Oh, dear God. 

I spent rather a lot of money on books. Also DVDs, but mainly books.



I don’t know what kind of stress tests they do on carrier bags to make sure the handles can handle it, but they clearly had me in mind when they designed them.

A couple random thoughts before I go over the purchases: it is always worth sticking your nose into a charity shop; ditto those odd little places that describe themselves as antiquarian shops; Guernsey is a lot of fun; never pass by a London street market without poking your nose in; good things come in messy packages.

To begin.

The Mystery of the Blue Train and The Secret Adversary, both Agatha Christie, republished collectables in the style of the original publishing. I remember picking up a copy of Murder on the Orient Express a while ago in a similar format, but this is the first time I’ve seen anything quite like it.  I originally thought this was a new series, but having researched a bit I think this must be an old boxed set that someone broke up and started selling in second-hand shops. Possibly more than one boxed set. I saw these for sale in at least two different London stores.



Very, very pretty. Worth picking up as props for a Bookhounds game. Moderately pricy at 25 quid a pop, but not insane money. The set is 26 novels and I don't know which ones were picked for the collection - Christie published 74 novels, after all - but it's a pretty broad group, including folks like Parker Pyne as well as Poirot. If they're available in second-hand shops, they must be on ebay and similar. Picked up at Boom Cat Books, Camden Market.

The Tao of Igor, collected Dork Tower by John Kovalic. I already had most of these in comic form but never knew how it ended. Now I do! Picked up at Orc’s Nest.



Black Chrome (Cyberpunk) and Cthulhu City (Trail) both picked up at North London’s shining star, Leisure Games. I haven't had a chance to read either yet but Cthulhu City is just my cup of arsenic. Looking forward to it!

Death of Mr. Dodsley, one of the British Library’s crime collection. These are usually fun but there’s an added bonus: the victim is a bookseller and the story involves a lot of book lore. Bookhounds players/keepers, take note. I read this within a day or so of purchase and highly recommend. Picked up at the Lexicon in Guernsey.

Fracture, picked up at Blackwell’s, Oxford. Quick word about Blackwells: they have outposts all over the country but, for my money, if you want anything interesting or academic you need to go to the Oxford shop. That's easier to do now the Elizabeth Line is working, which wasn't the case when I was last in the UK. This is a history of the 1920s-30s and it covers absolutely everything. I really do mean everything. Ordinarily this sort of thing focuses on, say, the UK, or US, and has one particular topic in mind. This covers the whole schmeer, from astrophysics to Marlene Deitrich, across Europe and North America. Anyone who wants to know more about the world according to Call or Trail of Cthulhu needs this book in their library.

The Saint Sees It Through, Leslie Charteris, 2nd edition with the original jacket. I have a weakness for this sort of thing (see also the Agatha Christies mentioned above). I’m not a huge Saint fan but if you want to know how to write pulp, this is a great starting point. Beware period views on race and sexuality. Picked up at my uncle’s second-hand place in Brighton, Raining Books on Trafalgar Street, within easy walking distance of the train station. My uncle’s a great bloke; organization is not his strong suit. 

The Ingoldsby Legends. Picked up at Curiosities, an antiquarian shop in Guernsey. It’s often worth your while poking your nose in that sort of place, particularly in somewhere not often frequented like Guernsey. You never know what might be hanging around. This is the 1898 Richard Bentley edition, with illustrations, and is a collection of all three books. The originals would have been published in the 1840s as single volumes. Comic ghost stories and verse. I'm not a huge fan of comic verse - it goes on a little long and I find it wearisome - but the stories are entertaining Gothic and might give you inspiration for your own tales.

The Bailiwick of Guernsey by CP Le Huray. part of the King's England series, published 1952. Picked up in a Guernsey charity shop. Interesting, detailed, a little dry. Since it's immediately post-war it does cover the German invasion but not to a great degree. Judging by the frontispiece this was one of a series that covered the whole of the UK; if you have a particular interest, it may be worth seeking out some of the others. 

Down and Out in Paris and London, George Orwell. I used to have a copy of this but I’ve no idea where it went. Very pretty edition with what looks like a period-ish cover. Again, the sort of thing worth using as a prop in a Bookhounds game. Picked up at Boom Cat Books, Camden Market.

The Warriors, Sol Yurick. Bet you didn’t know there was a book on which the film was based! The film bears almost no relation to the book bar the central premise, but that doesn’t mean the book isn’t fun. It’s gritty and reality-based, rather than the knockabout free-for-all the film becomes. Picked up at Foyles.

The Cliff House, by Christopher Brookmyre. I’m a huge fan and have pretty much all of his stuff. This is a new one on me. Picked up at Foyles.

I Am Not A Number by Alex Cox.  The Prisoner: an explanation; pretty detailed. An interesting piece. Workmanlike writing style but he covers all the bases and gives the reader a clear idea of what happened and why. Not a must-have, but if you enjoy the Prisoner it's worth considering. Picked up at Blackwell’s, Oxford.

Occult London, by Merlin Coverly.  Picked up at Foyles. I haven't read it yet so I can't say how good it is, but it has some strong selling points. First, it covers a broad timeline from the Elizabethan period to the modern day. Second, one of its appendixes is all about occult bookstores in London. Bookhounds players/keepers should at least consider this one; whether or not you purchase is up to you.

Quatermass II, Nigel Kneale. This right here is why you should always pay attention to London street markets. I’m sure this needs no introduction. Found on my last day, Rare Books and Curios, Greenwich Market. On a side note, if you want a decent pint and don’t want to end up in a tourist pub, I recommend the Plume of Feathers on Park Vista. It’s a short stroll from the market proper, near Greenwich Park. Atmosphere’s good.



DVDs: as you ought to have learned by now, streaming only works so long as the service provider is willing to let you keep streaming. Things you thought you bought vanish in a heartbeat. Picked up mostly at Fopp, Timeslip in Brighton, and Music & Video Exchange in Greenwich. I’m basically filling in gaps in my collection at this point.

Among them:

Conan the Barbarian

28 Days Later

The Crazies (remake of the Romero original, picked up because it has Timothy Olyphant)

The Day of the Triffids

Prince of Darkness I first saw this on the big screen at the Greenwich Picturehouse years ago, before COVID. Definitely worth seeing on the big screen if you can manage it - but I'd say the same for all Carpenter films.

An American Werewolf In London

The Haunting (I used to have a copy of this but it died, so here's a replacement)

Snatch

Full Metal Jacket

That's it for this week. Enjoy!

Sunday, 2 July 2023

Books! Glorious Books.

 I arrived home poorer financially, but not poor in spirit. I brought home a cargo of books, as you can see. But what, you ask, was the result?

Well!

David Wellington, 99 Coffins and Vampire Zero. If you remember Wellington, that’s because you read his Monster Island series of zombie apocalypse novels. I think I may have mentioned him in a Bookshelf, lo, these many moons past. In Monster Island, followed by Monster Nation and Monster Planet, he started off with a great idea: dude from UN shanghaied during zombie apocalypse is sent to NYC to pick up meds for a Somali warlord afflicted by AIDs, since the UN building is the only place anyone can think of where someone can reliably get said meds. Sold. Job done. Problem being, that plot didn’t quite sustain the novel, never mind the following two books. Here we have a situation where reluctant modern-day vampire hunter is, first, sent off to deal with Civil-War era shenanigans, and then, in the next novel, has to deal with her former mentor who’s gone rogue and joined the fang gang. I admit, this was a gamble purchase. I'll have to see whether it was worth the $7 or so the Strand charged me for them. [spoiler alert: ehhhhhh ... *shrug*]

Christianna Brand, Green For Danger. Classic crime from the British Library. I’ve already seen the film so I kinda know whodunit, but that shan’t stop me enjoying this one. World War Two drama in which a mysterious person is unceremoniously offed on the operating table. The person who says she knows what happened is stabbed to death moments later …

Agatha Christie Mallowan, Come, Show Me How You Lived. Period archaeology, and yes, it is that Agatha Christie. If nothing else this will be excellent research material, but Dame Agatha is always readable so I’m expecting great things.

Arthur Machen, The Three Impostors. I’m going to delve deeper into this in a separate post. Briefly, excellent horror fiction that GUMSHOE Directors should be poaching ideas from left, right and center. A group of disparate acquaintances discover that they’ve all had close encounters with mysterious forces, apparently led, coordinated or otherwise involved by the young man with spectacles – whoever or whatever he may be …Even if you've never read the novel you have almost certainly read The Novel of the Black Seal and The Novel of the White Powder, both of which are part of the Three Impostors and both of which have been anthologized in many publications since.

William Hope Hodgson, The House on the Borderland. Often called a classic of the genre, this is one I actually wouldn’t recommend to most people. It has a strong premise but no follow-through: two friends on a fishing expedition discover a mysterious house, and a diary written by the man who lived there. Expect much luminous and hallucinogenic imagery and almost no plot whatsoever. Worth picking up if you enjoy delving into the history of horror.

Bartholomew Gill, The Death of an Ardent Bibliophile. A policeman pays what amounts to a welfare check on a notorious bibliophile only to find him dead and naked. Or naked and dead, whichever way you’d prefer to read that sentence.

C. Daly King, Obelists at Sea. Another classic crime novel, with the added bonus that this is set on a classic cruise liner. Neatly involving two of my personal obsessions in one package. Job done.

Paul Halter, The Mask of the Vampire. A locked room mystery master tackles supernatural murder. This is a translation of the French original. Vampires and a Frenchman’s interpretation of the English countryside murder mystery? Oho!

Seishi Yokomizo, The Village of Eight Graves. I’ve mentioned his work before. Yokomizo-san struggled to find a market before the War and very nearly starved to death during it, but post-War found fame with his series of historical mystery novels. Once upon a time greedy villagers murdered eight samurai for the stolen gold the samurai were supposedly guarding. Nobody ever found the money; many died from the samurai curse. Now, it seems, the bloody work of vengeance is to begin anew as unlucky heir BLANK comes back to his birthplace, a village he has never seen in his life.

Ken Weber, Maximum Entertainment 2.0. Bought at Tannen’s Magic Shop, a place I thoroughly recommend to all visitors to NYC with even a passing interest in stage magic. I bought this for research purposes; I couldn’t card trick my way out of a rabbit’s hat. However, if you’re going to write about something – say, if you intend to write a novel with a magician as a main or major character – you need to know the business of performance. You need to know what it is to put on a show. That’s what Weber does, and he does it very well.

Lafcadio Hearn, Chita. I admit without shame that I'd buy/read anything Hearn ever wrote and I await the day when someone gathers all his newspaper columns in one anthology. This is his account of the hurricane of 1856 and, speaking as someone who lived through hurricanes: 110%, no error. Horror writers ought to at least read the first chapter, if you read nothing else. 

Radley Balko, Rise of the Warrior Cop If you want to understand how the US became what it is today, you need to read books like these. Balko charts the militarization of America's police, from its earliest days to the no-knock present. The downfall of the Castle Doctrine, one coffin nail at a time.


Sunday, 7 August 2022

Books, Glorious Books


via the Mercatus Center

I have returned from New York City and now know what Brunch is. 

I was sitting in my usual coffee shop about a week or so back building up the mental strength to go to work and someone sat next to me asked if I was a local. She went on to ask if I could recommend a good place to eat brunch, which puzzled the hell out of me. We don’t eat brunch down here. We don’t have a brunch culture. The hotels offer something like, but that’s a purely tourist thing so it’s not something I can comment about intelligently. 

It’s different in New York. 

Very different. 

I fried myself in NYC. I always forget just how hot it is in the summer. It’s so tempting to walk everywhere; after all, it’s only a few blocks from here to there, it won’t be that bad. Followed swiftly by repentance and heat prostration. Mind, some of the subway cars are air conditioned now, which I don’t remember being an option the last time I was in town. 

I got to see some people. Hello, people! It was fun. 

I spent a ton of money on books. Shocking, I know. The Strand was my first visit, and I was slightly taken aback by how gentrified it’s become compared to the version I knew when I first began visiting NYC. Tote bags and coffee mugs must be a significant part of its bottom line, these days.  

I went to the Mysterious Bookshop down on Warren Street, which I highly recommend to anyone who enjoys whodunnits, whatdunnits and howonearthdidyoudunnits. Also, Dracula puzzles. Very pretty looking Dracula puzzles.  

However, the prize was, as always, the Americana section of the Argosy, where I blew the budget and also my suitcase; as I was disembarking the plane on the way home the case handle gave up on life. ‘Alas, cruel fate!’ it wailed, as it snapped forever.  Today I bought its replacement. Here's hoping the replacement lasts at least as long as its predecessor; I had that one since Uni.

The Argosy was the only place in NY to insist on mask wearing. Theoretically you were supposed to wear a mask on the subway but very few people did. Pretty much everywhere else was mask optional, which meant no masks at all. Despite NY’s best efforts I avoided COVID, continuing my streak of testing negative. I attribute this to blind luck, mask wearing at the airport and other public areas, and the 2oz bottle of hand sanitizer I bought before the flight. Thanks, Handy; you did me proud. 

Seriously, Handy, good job. I've lost track of the number of people I know in Bermuda who've come down with COVID these past few weeks. Meanwhile I stroll through 42nd Street Station many times over the course of a few days without so much as a sniffle.

I’ll spare you the full list of purchases but thought it would be fun to talk about the Argosy haul. 

Lafcadio Hearn, Two Years in the French West Indies (1890). You’ve heard me mention Hearn before. Believe me when I say I laughed for joy when I saw this and immediately snapped it up. Anything Hearn wrote is worth your time. 

The Iron Gate of Jack & Charlie's, various authors, anniversary edition detailing the 21 Club’s history up to publication. God alone knows what will happen to the Club post-COVID; Jack and Charlie would weep to see it. However, if you have any interest in Prohibition or NYC club life you ought to know something about the 21. I’ve read this book before but never had the chance to own it. I’ve also visited the Club, once, and saw the fabled secret cellar. Fond memories! 

Critical Years at the Yard, 1860-89, (1956) Belton Cobb. True crime, and this paired with the title below were my two true crime purchases of the trip. I often go a bit nutty for this sort of thing. This one's about Scotland Yard's early years, shot through with bribery scandals and botched investigations.

The Newgate Noose, (1957) Howard Culpin. A collection of the hanged and their many, many crimes. As with a lot of true crime there's a strong risk of picking up something you already know or have read before. However, no matter how much you know about the luckless pickpockets, murderers and highwaymen who fed the hanging tree there's always a new story. I've just finished the tale of Jenny Diver, a new one on me. Industrious, clever, lucky for a long while, she and her fellow pickpockets ran riot for a long time before she was sentenced to transportation. Not liking America very much she returned to England and for a while avoided notice, but it was death to return from transportation. She swung in 1740 leaving a three-year-old child behind her - at least, according to the Newgate Noose, which may or may not have the right of it. Probably not, since the Noose says she was 'all but a child herself' when she died and Wikipedia puts her actual age at early 40s, which - let's be honest - isn't youth's first bloom.

That's the risk with collections like these. They often talk a load of old bollocks. However, even rubbish can be useful material if you're looking for inspiration for a character in a novel - or an RPG.

This Was New York! A Nostalgic Picture of Gotham in the Gaslight Era, (1969) Maxwell F. Marcuse. This, like the next one, is research material. New York in the misty far-off days when it was building itself into the metropolis we now know. 

The Boss and the Machine, Samuel P. Orth (1919, Yale Uni Press) volume number [something or other] in the [I don't care] collection of American history. For every great fortune there is a great crime. Or, put slightly more accurately, the secret of a great success for which you are at a loss to account is a crime that has never been found out, because it was properly executed. By that definition this is a crime that was found out and therefore not a great success for which we are at a loss to account - but it was a great success, nonetheless.

Now, enough! Hence! I have reading to do. 

Sunday, 20 December 2020

Seven Kinds of Fruit Loops (Bookhounds of London)

Seven Kinds of People You Find In Bookshops (Shaun Bythell, Profile Books hardback, 2020 ed) is something I'm going to talk about in detail for a YSDC Bookshelf, but I also want to recommend it here for Bookhounds of London players and Directors. It is exactly what you'd expect from the title; a slightly misanthropic take on the kinds of customers often found infesting bookshops, antiquarian or otherwise. 

It reminds me of a similar book, An Innkeeper's Diary (John Fothergill, Chatto and Windus, 1931). Fothergill's a snooty crosspatch who, in 1922, 'found that I must do something for a living' and so became an Innkeeper. 'Here at last I thought I might still be myself and give to others something of what I had acquired before making this clean-cut departure from my past.'  Thoroughly miserable old fool that he was, he persisted, and became friend to the literary greats of the period. Every page turned I couldn't help but wonder why the hell Fothergill, who by any standard seems to have been a prime candidate for an atomic wedgie, stayed in a profession he obviously felt was beneath him. Shaun Bythell seems cut from the same cloth.

Understand, I'm not saying Bythell's a bad man, or, worse yet, a bad writer. I'm saying he exudes the kind of scruffy pomposity you often find in a university lecturer, and I'm not sure how much of that is his professional persona intended for public consumption, and how much natural tendency. Frankly, I doubt even he knows, with any certainty.


Video sourced from David R Godine

Yet Bythell persists, and has won fame and plaudits. Seven Kinds is the third he's published; the others are Diary of a Bookseller and Confessions of a Bookseller

You can probably guess the kind of people Bythell's talking about but I wanted to bring this to your attention because of one chapter among the seven: Genus: Homo qui maleficas amat (Occultist). This is why I bought the book: I wanted to mine it for Bookhounds of London

Boy howdy, can you ever.

I'm not going to go through the whole thing. Technically I don't suppose it counts as spoilers, but it's much more fun if you read it for yourself. That said, what I do intend to do is use those descriptions as a stepping stone to create an NPC which you might use in the game. 

Let's begin.

Type one. Species: artifex maleficus (dark artist)

Always dressed completely in black, usually a bit overweight and invariably on a quest for books by Aleister Crowley, or something antiquarian with which they believe they can summon Mephistopheles.

The always dressed in black bit is a modern conceit. In the 1930s people didn't know what Goths were, unless they were sacking Rome, or claiming all the best spots by the pool with carefully placed towels. In game, Bohemian with a touch of Count Dracula is the better way to go. A bit of the fictional gypsy, all ribbons, bright colors and crystals.  

Martyn Bower

Description: gender a bit of a mystery, always wears red and often too tight over an ample front, never without jade cigarette holder, probably in their 20s though is the type who will look 16 forever.

Auction 4, Fleeing 6, Magic 4

You could set your clock by Martyn. On the second of the month, without fail, in they trot with a new list of wants. Somehow Martyn's always on the cusp; there's meant to be a maiden aunt out there somewhere who will drop off the twig any minute and leave Martyn all her money. Not that anyone's ever met this mystery aunt, mind. Until then Martyn lives off credit and great expectations. Martyn's pet subject is Demonology; give Martyn the slightest opportunity and Martyn will talk your ear off. To Martyn Demonology is a soap opera; Mephistophilis might be some rake cutting a broad swathe through the swooning females of Tartarus, Beelzebub the wicked uncle lording it over his downtrodden extended family. And you wouldn't believe what that crafty tart Lilith's been up to!

Type two. Species: homo qui conjurationes fervet (conspiracy theorist)

Although not strictly speaking an occultist, the conspiracy theorist shares with the dark artist the characteristic of credulously believing in something for which there is an overwhelming body of evidence to the contrary.

Robin Lea

Description: wiry, mop of sandy hair, charming polite goofball who, without ever intending to, creates chaos all around. If there's an open bucket of paint on the floor, Robin's about to step in it.

Driving 4, Explosives 1, Firearms 2, Mechanical Repair 3.

Robin's the radical's radical, the red sheep of an otherwise solidly middle class family. He dreams of making a difference, of striking a blow for the downtrodden. He's convinced the enemy outside will destroy the nation, the enemy within will destroy the nation, the enemy above will destroy the nation, the enemy below haven't the slightest idea what's going on, and Robin is the only benevolent conspirator in London - if not the country. He's remarkably well informed on police procedure and if he was a character he'd have a high Cop Talk rating, so it should come as no surprise that his father's a chief inspector at Scotland Yard who devoutly wishes Robin would grow up and take life seriously. If you want to find Robin, look in someone else's bed; he's usually in it or hiding under it.

Type three. Species: homo qui cartas providas legit (tarot reader)

Gazing into crystal balls and predicting the futures of complete strangers on the basis of precisely nothing has traditionally been the exclusive preserve of bearded - or at least heavily mustachioed - middle-aged types of either gender.

Lucy Garland

Description: forbidding stick insect, forever prodding with her umbrella as if it were some form of proboscis. Avid collector of any and every variant of Tarot de Marseille and is never without at least one deck.

Auction 4, Filch 2, Magic 2

Lucy knows. Nobody's quite sure what she knows, but she knows. She has that ineffable air of mystery that comes with being a fortune teller, and her client list is really quite stunning. Not just the great and good, but also the peculiar and the downright criminal consult her. She's as well known in the East End as she is the West, and her boast is she never judges anyone's behavior, sexual habits or larcenous tendencies. A client is a client, and their confidence is treated with the utmost respect. Many people wonder what this Victorian remnant does for fun. She's never been seen to drink, smoke, or indulge in any vice, nor has she ever been married - as far as anyone knows. Rumors abound. If every story's to be believed she's actually led a debauched life with six husbands, four wives (including a Duke's daughter), and currently sleeps in a coffin in an East End opium den - but you shouldn't put your stock in stories.  

Type four. Species: venator umbrorum (ghost hunter)

A YouGov survey in 2014 revealed that more people in the UK believe in ghosts than describe themselves as religious (34% and 26%, respectively).

Jacob D'Aster

Description: Craggy with a touch of aristocratic frost, full crimson vampiric lips, eyes that cut like razors. Particularly interested in anything to do with ghosts or Enochian practice. Never without his bag of tricks, which is full of odds and sods - it always seems to contain what he needs when he needs it.

Auction 2, Fleeing 4, Magic 2, Scuffling 6, Weapons 4

It's funny how D'Aster can become Astor at a moment's notice. Not that Jacob's a member of the illustrious banking and political clan, heavens no. He would never trade on anyone's mistaken belief that he's worth thousands, if not millions. That would be beneath him. Yet for whatever reason all sorts of people think he's minted, absolutely rolling in the spondoolicks, and Jacob never troubles to correct them. He might live in a drafty East End garret, but he'll never be anything less than the Lord of the Manor. He's even fought a duel, they say, defending a lady's honor. That was before the vampire incident in Highgate Cemetery. Ever since, Jacob's had almost a monomania about the place. If ever you want him, that's where you're most likely to find him.   

Type five. Species: homo artificii studiosus (craft enthusiast)

Although not technically an occultist, the craft enthusiast shares many of the characteristics of some of the subsets, most notably the tarot reader's dress sense.

Larry Tinston

Description: Your five-year-old younger brother, except he's twenty four and twice as annoying. His day job's at St Bart's and somehow his clothes are always spotted with gore or chemical burns, never mind that odd antiseptic smell that follows on his heels, more faithful than any hound. People always forget he was a boxing blue (Fist +0 damage).

Auction 1, Fleeing 3, First Aid 4, Scuffling 8

Everybody knows Larry. It's impossible not to know the man - he barges into every conversation, whether he knows who's talking or not. He assumes you're the best of friends, despite any evidence to the contrary. Which can be unfortunate, as Larry's true love is trains. He's a member in very good standing of the MRC (Modern Railway Club) King's Cross and his modelling skills are second to none (effective Craft 4). He will talk the hind legs off two donkeys and a nun, if given the slightest encouragement. Some do. Those with Megapolisomatic interests have noticed Larry's models can give magical bonuses to any working involving trains. Nobody knows why, least of all Larry, to whom any esoteric discussion is so much piffle. People have been known to pay Larry good money for his models, just to help them carry out some mystic scheme or other. Funny thing; nobody ever tries it twice. They say Larry's models give them peculiar dreams ...

Enjoy! 


Sunday, 23 August 2020

The Booksellers (2019 documentary)

 


I became aware of this when YouTube trailers popped up early in the year. I can't remember whether I first saw them before the lockdown, or just as it was starting. Either way, I was intrigued. I love bookstores. I love New York. I love Bookhounds of London. This was an obvious buy - but was it worth it?

Oh yes. Definitely yes.

Directed by D.W. Young, whose documentary credits stretch back twenty years, this could almost be called New York Booksellers since its framing device is the New York Antiquarian Book Fair, most of its faces are New Yorkers, and its big documentary subjects (the Strand, the Argosy) are all New York icons. Even Rebecca Romney, who you may recall from Las Vegas' Pawn Stars, has relocated to the East Coast. You'd think there were no booksellers west of the Alleghenies. Possibly there aren't. I've never travelled west of the Alleghenies myself, so I can't comment. Been to New York at least thirty or forty times, and lived there for four months back in 1999, so ... 

If you're a Director looking for inspiration for your Bookhounds campaign, this is exactly the kind of thing you want to watch. If you're a player looking for inspiration for your next Hound, this is also exactly the kind of thing you want to watch. It's punchy, well-paced - I mean, look at the subject material, this could have been as dry as a bone - filled with brilliant characters and never beats you to death with information or statistics, the two bugbears of a documentary feature. 

There's one moment that, for me, encapsulates the Bookseller's appeal. An expert (Adam Weinberger) has been told a noted scholar has died, the spouse of an academic, and her collection has to be sold off. He knows she might have some treasures, so he has a look inside "the detritus of their lives." "My ears pick up," says Weinberger. "I think there's potential ... you always take a peek." 

My thoughts first are for those shelves and what might be on them, but then they wander to the apartment itself, which is a wreck. It's a New York wreck so it costs more than I could afford, but ... my God. I can only imagine that broken ruin in winter, with Jack Frost getting out the garden shears to nip off your toes and other extremities. Weinberger goes so far as to put on a mask (remember, this is all pre-COVID), which is probably wise. The person who lived there cared about books and nothing else. Absolutely nothing else. 

That scene in and of itself is an entire Bookhounds adventure, and it takes maybe five minutes of an hour thirty total. It almost writes itself. The Hounds have to catalogue a collector's entire library but a Cold One's lurking outside their wrecked apartment. It becomes a race against time; do they keep the Cold One out long enough for them to scoop up some unconsidered trifles?

If you're looking for a reason to watch this and aren't convinced yet (you monster!) let me put it this way: it's a remarkable, watchable glimpse into a book world that only exists right this minute. Twenty years ago it was completely different. Twenty years from now it will be completely different. The book business is one of the few that seems to thrive on change, despite the jeremiads from the old-timers convinced that nothing new is ever good.

A short while back I talked to YSDC about Bookhounds, and said I wished the game paid more attention to the book business. It sometimes feels as if the bookstore is just a framing device for the usual Scooby Doo action. Booksellers is here to remind you that buying and selling books is its own unique thrill, with all the joys and terrors of the carnival to entertain you. 

After all, it's retail. Anything can happen in retail. 

Enjoy!

Sunday, 7 June 2020

Bookmarks of London (and Eversink)

Bookmarks have been with us since the earliest days. There's evidence that they were being used as long ago as the 1st Century AD, but we don't see what we think of as bookmarks - ie detachable, ephemeral, mass-produced - until the mid 19th Century, when books themselves become ephemeral and mass-produced. Up until that point, and even with the invention of the printing press, books are relatively rare and expensive to obtain. You had to be upper class or of similar status to be able to afford, never mind read, books. Once the middle and lower classes get in on the racket you start seeing changes in the trade. Less porn, for one thing. Well, not that much less. But they were slightly more discreet.

By this point booksellers and marketers alike are seeing potential in the humble bookmark. You can put your brand on them. You can put advertising on them. If you want to be very fancy you can embroider them, stud them with beads or semiprecious stones, design them with special rotating discs or tongues so they can mark not just the page but the very line you last read. Want to spread word of your hotel? Put free bookmarks in every room with your hotel's branding. Want to sell chocolates? Here, have a bookmark. Want people to know where this book was purchased? Here, have a bookmark.

I'm going to discuss this with an eye to Bookhounds of London and also Eversink (because why not). Much the same techniques could be used in Yellow King, but as I haven't read the Yellow King books yet I shan't comment. Heck, I've barely had chance to skim the post-playtest version of Serpentine.

First point: you can make bookmarks out of almost anything. Silk, paper, leather, cardboard, silver - whatever you like, which means in a fantasy or horror setting whatever you like. In a world where books can be bound in human skin, you can bet some charmer's tried to make bookmarks out of human leather. Moreover that charmer's almost certainly a medical professional, and probably someone working in the early to mid 19th Century, when interest in anthropodermic leather peaked. There's a certain macabre satisfaction in having a memento made from the skin of a condemned man. Murderabilia has become a recognized phenomenon in recent years, but as a tradition it goes back a very long way - after all, what's a hand of glory if not the ultimate collector's item? Of course in a fantasy setting this can run the gamut. A bookmark made of ghost? Why not? Leather tanned from the corpse of a dead God? Certainly sir - will that be letter of credit, or hard cash?

Second point: you can make bookmarks for almost any purpose. I've mentioned advertising and branding because those are the obvious uses, but you can spread any message. Religious or charitable groups make bookmarks to spread the Word, or perhaps just the word. It follows that any other organization spreading its word may do the same. Back in the 1970s, a Golden Dawn group issued 'magical' bookmarks to spread its creed. In a world where curses can be spread by bits of paper with runes writ on them, a bookmark could be a weapon. In a world where mind or dream control is a thing, a bookmark could be an infection vector.

Third point: bookmarks are transitory. People collect them inadvertently. I must have at least a score spread around the place, picked up in bookstores or on my travels. I've no idea where they all are or what they all are. Some came to me without my knowledge, stuck in the leaves of a book I bought second-hand. That's just the ones made to be bookmarks, mind - I'm not counting bits of used envelopes or old newspaper clippings shoved inside a forgotten tome. So there's any number of reasons you might find a bookmark somewhere in your house, your luggage, your hotel room. These things happen …

With all that, some seeds:

Graveyard Shift (Bookhounds): Your Shop decided it was time to spend a little on advertising, and bookmarks seemed the best way to go. A few hundred were ordered and you've been giving them away to favored clients. These aren't your standard bit of tat; you paid good money for best quality. You know the vendor; she's reliable, and a customer interested in Egyptology. Which would have been fine, except now all the Shop's best customers complain their dreams are awful. Some go on extended vacation - doctor's orders. Some customers just vanish ... Turns out that interest in Egyptology wasn't just academic. The vendor wanted to boost her luck and incised all kinds of charms in her printing machine. Charms invoking old Gods, meant to summon protective spirits. They attracted the attention of Rat Things, who decided to manipulate the vendors' interest for their own amusement. The Rat Things use the bookmarks as an infection vector, spreading dream control (nightmare fuel) with each bookmark. The bookmarks cause Egypt-themed nightmares which sap the owners' Sanity. This only works for a short period, perhaps two weeks, but it's long enough to cause the holder serious problems. Soon the Rat Things will get bored and move on, but not before causing as much chaos as possible.

Precious Memories (Eversink):  The designer Cestino once created a number of collectable cameos for adolescents wealthy enough to afford them. Several generations later those cameos are sought-after among the aristocracy, and anything rare and valuable attracts forgeries. The Cestino Bookmark is a particular kind of forgery, created as an attack on a particular aristo. Though it is made in Cestino's style (ceramic embossed in silver, with a little wheel attached to mark the exact line the owner was reading) it is actually marked with a discreet Rune of Humiliation, targeting the owner of the bookmark. Its creator intends to pass it on to someone they really don't like. The characters are either employed to deliver it to the target (a gift from an admirer) or to find out who made it (so the admirer can get their own back). Or both, as in 'find out who hired you to deliver this or I'll make sure your throats are slit one dirty night ...'

Enjoy!