Scudder’s back? What about his back? Is it bothering him? Well, he’s a little long in the tooth to be a spring chicken, so—
You know, I could spend a thousand words clueing you in, but this is way easier:
That’s Patrick Faricy’s cover for the brand-new Matthew Scudder novella, coming fom Subterranean Press in January 2019. I’m rushing this newsletter because I want to give all of y’all the earliest possible heads-up. Subterranean’s gorgeous editions are apt to sell out in a hurry, especially the signed-and-numbered limited editions. Even for the trade hardcover editions, the books are often sold by the time they’re off press, and it’s very rare for Subterranean to go back for a second printing. So if you want to catch up with Scudder, I’d advise you to click here and place your pre-order.
I suppose the limited edition is prohibitively expensive.
It’s limited to 500 signed-and-numbered copies, and the price is $45. The trade edition is $25. Given the production quality of Subterranean’s books, and the tendency of the limited editions in particular to appreciate in the aftermarket, I’d say it’s a pretty good deal.
But then I’m hardly an unbiased reporter. I’m happy with the way the novella turned out, and delighted that Subterranean is publishing it. I had a good time writing A Time to Scatter Stones, and it was satisfying to be once again seeing the world through Scudder’s eyes and speaking in his voice.
Just between us, I never expected to write more about Matt Scudder after A Drop of the Hard Stuff. I surprised myself once, with a final short story (“One Last Night at Grogan’s”), which closed out The Night and the Music, and in a way that certainly suggested there’d be no more.
And, really, how could there be? Matt’s the same age I am, and just as he’s way too old to leap tall buildings in a single bound, so am I a little old myself to be hunched over a keyboard, trying to coax cogent thoughts out of what remains of my mind.
I guess you had enough brain cells left to do the job.
And precious few to spare. I think it’s highly unlikely that I’ll be able to recount further Scudder adventures, though one never knows. But I wouldn’t be hugely surprised if I find other stories to tell about other characters.
Really? Bernie? Keller? Somebody brand new?
I don’t have a clue. Time will tell—or it won’t. Whatever. But let’s stay with Mr. Scudder for now, because this is definitely his moment. And once again I’m going to provide you with a picture rather than grind out a thousand words:
There you have it, John K. Snyder III’s brilliant graphic novel adaptation of Eight Million Ways to Die. And if you think this looks good wait until you turn the pages and see the art. And then, when you get around to reading it, you’ll find JKS3 somehow managed to be faithful to the story and character and mood of the book, even to getting the look and fee of 1982 New York on the page. I don’t know much about graphic novels, but I know what I like, and this is it.
It was just about two weeks ago that I first met John. We had joint signings on consecutive days at The Mysterious Bookshop and Midtown Comics, and we met a lot of nice people and signed a slew of books. The Mysterious Bookshop sold out of the twice-signed books in a hurry; they’ve reordered, and when the new books arrive I’ll go sign them, but I don’t know how many they’ve ordered or how long they’ll be around. If you want one, I suggest a call to Tom at (800) 352-2840.
Midtown Comics have a few double-signed copies left—or did when they last updated their website. I can’t find a phone number for them, and recommend ordering on line at their website. As you’ll see, they have a one-copy limit on the signed books. No limit on the unsigned ones.
The signings were fun for me, but the real joy was spending some time with John. We connected for dinner one night, and hit it off wonderfully. We agreed that we’d love to see more of Matthew Scudder in this format, and we’re hoping sales of this book will be strong enough to move IDW to greenlight a sequel. (And no, I don’t know which book we’ll do next.)
You say you enjoyed the signings?
Very much—and it’s a good thing, as I’ve got a couple of appearances coming up. In a few days—Friday and Saturday, July 13 and 14, I’ll be at Thrillerfest, held as usual at the Grand Hyatt in New York. I’m on panels each day—one on film and tv Friday at 2:40, one on location-location-location Saturday at 4:20, with signings scheduled after the panels.
And I’ll be at Bouchercon in early September, in St. Petersburg. (That’s Florida, not Russia.)
And what else? Don’t tell me there’s a new Scudder movie coming up.
Not to worry. I’ll tell you no such thing. But I do want to direct your attention to a new page on my website. It’s all about film and TV—my own writing for the two media and various adaptations of my prose work.
Let me give you a taste with a few lines about two films with which I had nothing to do, although they keep turning up in lists of my work. The man involved was an actor named Lawrence Joel Block, who got a pair of writing credits, one as Larry Block and the other as Lawrence J. Block. For years we sort of disliked one another from a distance, and then I actually met him face to face once—although he never knew it:
“I was walking with a writer friend, Thomas Cook. We’d been at a group dinner in midtown, and I was walking Tom home to his apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, and would then walk myself home to my place in the Village. Tom had previously mentioned that he had a friend with the same name as I, actor Larry Block, and as we walked west on 46th Street he said, ‘Oh, there he is now.’
“I forget what LJB was doing. Lugging garbage cans to the curb, I think, or lugging them back. Never mind.
“’I’ll introduce you,’ Tom said. And, as we drew up to where my namesake was lugging something or other, he said brightly, ‘Larry Block, meet Larry Block.’ Larry Block the actor assumed Tom had just said his name twice, and had not bothered saying the name of his companion, and I don’t think he cared a whole lot anyway. Whereupon Tom and I continued our walk, and Tom clearly thought he’d successfully introduced the two of us, and I didn’t care enough to let him know what had happened.
“Then a couple of years later Larry Block died.
“But his work lives on, at least to the extent that it keeps turning up in lists of my work. I don’t believe for a moment that this blog post will straighten things out. But, you know. We do what we can.”
If you’d like to read more, a simple click will get you there.
And what else is keeping me busy? Well, I’m compiling two anthologies, one for Pegasus in the mode of In Sunlight or in Shadow and Alive in Shape and Color, the other more in the vein of Dark City Lights. I’ve mastered the most important trick of an anthologist, which is to enlist superb writers and get out of their way, and I think you’ll be happy with the results. I’ll tell you more when there’s more to tell.
But first, if you’ve no objection (or even if you do), I’m gonna get out of everybody’s way—on a Holland America cruise of the North Atlantic. Can’t wait!
Cheers,
Coming to Australian bookshops in January 2019. This little duck can’t wait!!!