by Brian Kunde
Today’s de Camp highlight is Footprints On Sand : A Literary Sampler, by L. Sprague de Camp and Catherine Crook de Camp, illustrated by C. H. Burnett (Advent: Publishers, Inc., 1981). When I began this series of reviews I didn’t think I would be covering this one because I didn’t have it. (Though I had read it, because the library in which I work has it, and I borrowed it, once upon a time.) Well, now I do have it, because online ordering is a thing. So I’m covering it after all. Incidentally, you can now have it as well, and for considerably less than I paid for it. But I’ll get to that in due course.
This was a special publication, intended as a one-time thing rather than later reissue. 1500 copies were issued, 500 of them signed (my copy’s a nice one, in practically pristine condition, but not one of the signed ones). According to the Advent:Publishers Master Archive (https://efanzines.com/EK/eI16/Advent/advent.htm) “This book was prepared as a tribute to the de Camps, on the occasion of their appearance as joints Guests of Honor at X-Con, June 1981 in Milwaukee.” Advent sponsored the book but did not produce it; unlike other Advent books, the editing, layout, and typesetting were done entirely by the Milwaukee Science Fiction Society. And the de Camps were duly appreciative, as evidenced by their dedication (for which see end of the essay).
We should all be appreciative. Footprints is a Halloween grab bag of de Campian goodies. As a sampler, it includes pieces from the full range of literary activity by both de Camps, as well as a nice assortment of tributes by other literary figures. If it weren’t already called a sampler, the best term for it might be miscellany, because the volume isn’t readily classifiable. Is it a collection? An anthology? Fiction? Non-fiction? Poetry? In a word, yes. (It’s particularly useful as a compilation of Catherine’s fiction and poetry, otherwise scattered among several other books or magazines, or just plain unavailable elsewhere.)
A few more preliminaries. The dust cover by C. H. Burnett, in black on a beige field, is adequate. Not terribly exciting, but it gets the job done. He does a creditable barbarian (presumably Conan, albeit with a mustache and beard resembling Sprague’s) on the front cover, and gives us a tree, castle and unicorn on the back. (Though not Eudoric’s rhinoceros-derived unicorn, plainly!) Burnett also provides the interior illustrations. He is best at illustrating the children’s stories. Not great on dinosaurs. I’ve not been able to find out anything more about Burnett, or anything else illustrated by this artist. I presume he was connected in some way with the Milwaukee Science Fiction Society.
The delights start with the preamble, provided by Catherine, a memoir in which she relates how she met and married Sprague, the course of their marriage and eventual literary partnership, and how she took over the business end of things. Something like Sprague’s own ponderous autobiography, Time and Chance (1996), only much more concise.
Then we get five loosely organized sections of—what’s the word? Lets call it stuff. Often with little introductory paragraphs by one or the other de Camp to provide context. And what stuff it is! First, “A Flourish of Trumpets: Tributes from Indulgent Friends.” The friends being Robert A. Heinlein, Lin Carter, Isaac Asimov, Poul Anderson, Andrew J. Offutt, Patricia Jackson, and George Scithers, and the tributes brought together from various sources that would otherwise take a fair amount of sleuthing and a fair amount of cash to bring together. But we don’t have to, because this book does it for us.
We get lots of fun insights here as to how the de Camps’ colleagues viewed them. Heinlein’s contribution is his introduction to The Glory That Was (1960); this is where his “I would class de Camp’s fiction as a very dry martini” comes from. Carter’s “Quixote with a Pen” is the capsule literary biography of Sprague from the intro to Literary Swordsmen and Sorcerers (1976). It’s a decent effort. Most of what I first knew about de Camp I got from Carter’s writings about him. Asimov’s “L. Sprague de Camp—Guest of Honor” is from remarks at Boskone IX, April 1972—it is a masterpiece of concision. His “All About Catherine” was the introduction to her The Money Tree (also 1972), and is somewhat more expansive. He jokes how Sprague used to watch him around her (based on what we’ve all learned about Asimov since, maybe he was well advised to), and is admiring of her ability to manage money. Anderson’s and Scithers’ tributes are from Loay Hall’s de Camp fanzine Pusad Revisited (1974). Offutt’s was delivered at Marcon XV, February 1980 by someone other than Offutt, who had to be at some other convention introducing some nobody named Steven King. Jackson’s is from Night Voyages (1979). All appropriately laudatory, from varied and interesting perspectives.
Next, “Ink Blots from Two Pens: Selections from Our Writings.” The most substantial of these are chapters from their earlier books, including “One Day in the Cretaceous,” from The Day of the Dinosaur (1968), “Preface to the Necronomicon,” from Al Azif (1973), the Scithers spoof version of that fictitious Lovecraft tome, “The Great Glass Jewel,” from Spirits, Stars, and Spells (1966), “The Coming of the Engineers,” from The Ancient Engineers (1963), and “Atlantis and the City of Silver,” from Ancient Ruins and Archaeology (1964). If you don’t have any of these but wonder if you would like them, this is a great place to get a taste. Other pieces include a letter by Sprague to Savage Sword of Conan, his essay on “Range” from Amra, and a speech on “Should Your Child Read Science Fiction?” by Catherine. It shows some of the rationale behind her editing of those SF anthologies for kids.
The following section is “Wind Chimes at Twilight: Some Thoughts in Verse.” Eight poems by Catherine, which you’re unlikely to find anywhere else, and eight by Sprague, also obtainable in his various poetry collections. Catherine’s verse tends to be serious and contemplative, Sprague’s bouncy and wry. Both favor traditional verse forms. Everyone will have their favorites among these; mine, by Sprague, are “Xeroxing the Necronomicon” and “A Tale of Two John Carters.”
“Strange Happenings: Stories for the Very Young” comes next; three short stories by Catherine, all from the anthologies she edited or co-edited. “The Boy Who Could Fly” appeared (as “Icarus”) in Tales Beyond Time (1973), and “The Horse Show” and “The Million Dollar Pup” debuted in Creatures of the Cosmos (1977). As I’ve noted elsewhere, they’re somewhat perfunctory examples of science fiction, but engaging as stories. Aside from the tributes section, this is the only one that lacks a Sprague contribution; fiction for kids was Catherine’s thing. (Though Sprague did write non-fiction directed at children.)
“Dreams and Surmises: Stories for the Not So Young” follows, with five short stories from both authors. The first two, “The Space Clause,” by Sprague, and “Windfall,” by Catherine, are again hard to find elsewhere; the former was collected in L. Sprague de Camp’s New Anthology of Science Fiction (1953), but that, as just stated, is hard to find; the latter is a story for which John Campbell handed the idea to Sprague, but the latter punted to Catherine after giving up on it. Essentially their first collaboration, it was published under Catherine’s name in the July 1951 issue of Astounding, and nowhere else. Except here. It has a feel at once both de Campian and oddly un-de Campian. The remaining tales, Sprague’s “Eudoric’s Unicorn, “The Emperor’s Fan,” and “Algy,” are not hard to find at all. But they’re good stories, and they read as well here as elsewhere. One is a segment of the later novel The Incorporated Knight (1987), the next an ironic entry in the Novarian series (and the one short story therein), and the third a typical Willy Newbury story.
A postscript by Sprague concludes the book. It consists of his oft-told tale of how he became a writer by losing his job. You’ve likely seen it elsewhere, but it’s fine here, too. And with this, alas, the fun ends. Still, along the way, the reader has likely gotten some good notions of what de Camp books to look into going foreword.
The volume is dedicated “To Jeff Ford and all the other members of the Milwaukee Science Fiction Society, whose interest and hospitality made this book a reality.” In an earlier version of this review I speculated whether this Jeff Ford might be the author Jeffrey Ford, but Darrell Schweitzer, on seeing that version, but the kibosh on the idea, writing “I think it is a very different Jeff Ford. Jeffrey Ford the writer is from New Jersey and has a distinct North Jersey/New York accent which indicates he has lived most his life in those parts.” Which leaves me with nothing more to report on this dedicatee than the de Camps say. Oh, well.
One more thing. I noted early on that others might find this book easier to obtain than I did, and more cheaply. That’s because, all expectation to the contrary, there has since been a new edition, and I do mean new; it was published in February, 2021, and in three forms, at that. The whole Advent catalog has been acquired by ReAnimus Press, which has been issuing exact reproductions. Footprints on Sand, previously available solely in the Advent hardcover, can now be obtained from ReAnimus in hardcover ($20.00), paperback ($14.99), or ebook ($3.99). Given inflation, any of these would be cheaper than the original was in its day—$12.00, in 1981 currency, which works out (by the reckoning of one net-based inflation calculator) to $37.95 at the time of this writing (May 7, 2022). All the ReAnimus versions retain the illustrative material of the Advent first edition, including the original cover art (slightly adapted for the ebook version by moving a reduced version of the back cover onto the front, and for the print version by adding a barcode to the back).
Steve Replogle, on the L. Sprague de Camp- Enchanter of the Quill facebook group, where this review first appeared, paid it this complement: “Thank you very much for presenting this book to us—in some ways, it seems like the best de Camp anthology of them all. Except it’s not quite an anthology, as you write. Whatever it is called, I desperately want to read it now!” If he didn’t manage to find a copy to read then, he can today. And so can you! So what in Crom’s name are you waiting for?
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