DAW Books

Did you ever buy a book just for the introduction? Let me tell you how pathetic I am. I bought DAW Books' 30th Anniversary Fantasy for the ten pages of introductory material by Elizabeth Wollheim and Sheila Gilbert. Sure, I could have stood at the dealer's table and read the intro, because it's almost a certainty that I won't read any of the stories, but I wanted to have it in case I felt the need to read it again.

DAW books in the 1970s were as important to me as Donald A. Wollheim's line of Ace Doubles was in the 1950s. The distinctive DAW spines and cover artwork made them stand out, and I could almost always depend on them to provide just the kind of reading I was looking for. I didn't buy the first one or two. In fact, the first one I remember buying is Dinosaur Beach by Keith Laumer (and, yes, I still have it; surely you aren't surprised).

In a way this leads me back to that generational thing I was talking about the other day. I've come to the conclusion that I don't much like change. There aren't any Ace Doubles anymore, and I've pretty much managed to accept that. But even DAW Books have changed. It's not just the spines and the logo. The books themselves are different. They look different, and they have different content. Don Wollheim is long dead, and the line is slanted toward a generation of readers who are not the same at all as the ones in the 1970s, except for the few of us old dinosaurs who are still hanging around, waiting for extinction.

And another thing I don't like is being a dinosaur, especially that extinction thing. The secret of all old men, I suppose, is that on the inside we don't feel old at all. We think we haven't changed, but we can see that the world is changing all around us. I go out to the college these days and see the kids walking around, and I don't think I'm much different from them. Meanwhile they're looking at me and thinking, Isn't it nice that the old gentleman can get around without a walker. I wonder if he was able to drive himself to the campus. Getting old sucks, folks, in more ways than one.