SFBC edition PiN

...I think this is the last of the multiples. At least for now.

Sitting on my living room floor are seven copies of the SFBC edition of Partners in Necessity. These are hard-bound, but are different from the Meisha Merlin hardcovers in several subtle, but important, ways.

One -- as I said, SFBC edition, which means it is slightly smaller all around than the Meisha Merlin edition.

Two -- The pages are glued to the spine, rather than sewn.

Three -- Because SFBC used Meisha Merlin's plates for a smaller overall form, the margins are thin and the book is bound tight.

Four -- The leaf copy is different from the copy on the Meisha Merlin editions, which was. . .idiosyncratic.

Five -- The back cover lacks copy and pricing information that is present on the MM edition, allowing Mr. Herring's artwork to be seen.

Six -- The case is black with gold lettering on the spine; the Meisha Merlin edition is cased in lavender with purple lettering on the spine.

Strange Things that you Need to Know -- There is nothing obvious on any of these books to indicate that they are the SFBC edition (this is why you need to be Justly Wary of the kind folks over at ABEbooks). The copyright page states: "First MM Publishing edition: February 2000". The ISBN is: O-7394-1441-0 The bar code is a simple EAN, not the Bookland-style code with internal pricing information, which is what Meisha Merlin used.

Steve's shelf has not been as kind to these editions as it might have been -- a couple of the covers are a little worse for the wear. Nothing is torn; all books are brand-new, never been read.

* * *

We can't remember how much SFBC was asking for these books, so we Got Arbitrary.

These seven books are up for adoption at $25 each, plus $5 Media Mail postage, which includes a tracking slip. If the buyer desires insurance and/or other shipping arrangements, we can talk. If you are out of the country, we will likewise need to talk. We will sign and personalize the book to the buyer's instruction.

As before: If you want to adopt, sing out in comments. The first seven folks* who speak up, with an email address where I can write to you and work out delivery details, win!

Please Note: There may be a delay in receiving a confirming email, on account of it's Tuesday and the folks at the day-job expect me to labor in the Fields of Academe (or at least, in the Secretarial Fields, right next to the Fields of Academe) during work hours. What's up with that?

In any case, let the games begin -- and thank you all for your patience while we get our house in order.

---------
*In the interests of getting as many books to as many eager readers as possible, we are only placing one book to a family.

Updatery and a Call to Action

There are still three SFBC editions of Partners in Necessity wanting homes. This mentioned because there are now 8 comments, and a fast scan might mislead.

Also! A week or so ago, we had a lot of fun doing an interview with Geek Speak Magazine. The interview is scheduled for the issue coming out later this month, and the editor is commissioning a companion piece -- "Love Letters to Liad" -- and she's asking you (yes, you) to contribute. Here's her letter:

Greetings!

Geek Speak Magazine are delighted to be running an interview (a wonderful, comprehensive and – we think, anyway – fascinating interview) with Sharon Lee and Steve Miller in our May issue.

As a companion piece, we are also offering up a piece entitled “Love Letters to Liad,” which will basically be a collection of nice things people have to say about the Liaden Universe (R) – and, by extension, Sharon and Steve. Now, that doesn’t mean that the comments have to be exclusively, overwhelmingly sappy – we’re quite partial to a little loving snark, and will certainly have no objections to hearing a balanced point of view. That said, however, the title of the article should perhaps be borne in mind when framing your responses.

What we’re seeking is approximately 50-250 words on why you love the Liaden Universe (R). In addition, a short 1-2 sentence bio on each respondent would be appreciated. For example, my bio:

Rachel Hyland is the Editor in Chief of Geek Speak Magazine. She is entirely lacking in pilot reflexes.

Also, if you’d like us to link to your blog or other website, we are, of course, happy to do so.

If you're interested in particpating, then we'd love to have your responses as soon as possible. (The new issue goes live on May 17.) And if you should happen to know of any Liaden fans whom you feel would be a valuable addition to this enterprise, please feel free to forward them this information.

Please send responses to rachel@geekspeakmagazine.com.

Thank you!

Rachel Hyland
Editor in Chief
Geek Speak Magazine - Do you speak geek?
www.geekspeakmagazine.com


...I trust you all know what to do.

Man, is it pretty out today!

Here’s your problem, right here

The background to today’s adventure is that I have a day-job as a secretary in a private college. Dorm damage is something of a hot topic among the students of said college, since the cost of repairing any damage done to a dorm is shared equally among the residents of that dorm, whether or not they had anything to do with the breakage. This is, I gather, supposed to teach people to “police themselves.”

For the last couple weeks, as graduation — and the semester damage invoices loom — there has been an increasingly frantic discussion on the student list about damage, the people who do it, why people do it, and how people go about “policing themselves.” These are useful questions, and following this afternoon, I am in the position to provide some insights.

I work inside a library building. Normally, it’s a quiet place. There are occasional loud noises and the acoustics of the stairwell are really interesting, so that some conversations kind of waft up three flights and directly into my office, but, hey, it’s an old building and I like the stairwell, which is kind of Escher-esque. You can stand on the landing of the third floor and have a (loud) discussion with someone standing on the ground floor, aka The Street.

So, my office, around about 2:30. It’s quiet on my hall, with a slight buzz of voices rising from The Street, where many students are studying for exams.

Suddenly! A metallic bang rang out!

Followed by more bangs, and laughter, and even more bangs. This goes on for a couple minutes before I decide to see what the devil’s going on and walk down two flights of stairs to the point where I can overlook the vending machines.

As I’m walking down the stairs — two flights, now, and I’m walking briskly, but not running — I see students coming out of the library, looking over the rail to the vending area, obviously curious about the noise, and move on. There is from time to time still some laughter at the banging, which is continuing at a goodly pace.

I arrive at last at the proper landing, and look down into the vending area, where one young man is whaling the hell out of vending machine, while another young man is calmly purchasing a drink from the machine beside it.

Since I’m obviously the only adult in range, I lean over the rail and ask a leading question: “What the hotel are you doin’?”

The boy — I’m supposed to refer to students as “students” “men” “women,” but in this case I’m making an exception for truth in reporting — the boy who’s whaling on the machine looks up at me.

“What?”

Since I now have his attention, I decide to cut to the chase.

“Leave,” I tell him.

He blinks and pulls the sound plugs out of his ears.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. Leave.”

“No — wait, just listen. I swiped my card twice and the machine deducted the money and my Doritos are still stuck in there!”

“Leave,” I said.

“You’re really serious.” Said with a look of utter disbelief that I could find his explanation anything but reasonable and his actions objectionable in any way.

“Yes, I am really serious. Leave.”

At which point the guy who had been buying the drink, and who had remained by that machine, muttered, “She said leave, man,” and so the boy did that.

I went back up to my office and fumed.

But I promised an insight, and here it is: The way to police yourselves is not to laugh when some fool is breaking something. The way to police yourselves is not to walk away, because it’s somebody else’s problem. The way to police yourselves is to do something, to speak up. If you’re little and they’re big, or you’re sober and they’re drunk, take a friend or three to help your present your case. Call Security for ghod’s sake! But don’t do nothing.

That’s it. No, that’s not it. One more thing — If that vending machine is broken, every person sitting in The Street, laughing, or pretending not to notice, has earned a piece of the repair bill.

Originally published at Sharon Lee, Writer. You can comment here or there.