The Sam Sale at Subterranean: Good Books, Good Cause

This is Sam, and he’s a really cute kid. Sam has also been diagnosed with pontine glioma, a pernicious sort of brain cancer which requires specialized treatment. Sam’s getting that treatment, but it’s far away from his home and his parents have to run two households — one at home and one at his treatment site — and they’re feeling some of the strain of this.

This is where Subterranean Press comes in. Today (January 22), Subterranean is having a special sale to help out Sam and his family. Today, every book Subterranean current has in print is 25% off — and for every book that Subterranean sells, it will contribute 25% of the retail price to Sam and his family. Subterranean has promised a minimum $2,000 no matter what, but clearly it would be nice to if more could be added to the sum.

So: If you’ve been looking longingly at the current stock of Subterranean Press, which includes books from Poppy Z. Brite, Orson Scott Card, Joe Lansdale, Jonathan Lethem, Charlie Stross, Connie Willis and lots of others, today is a fine time to make an order. You’ll get some great special editions at a great price, and you’ll be supporting a good cause as well.

Bill Schafer of Subterranean Press says: “Please mention 25% off when ordering. Your shopping cart total and automatic email confirmation won’t reflect the sale price. We’ll take care of that when processing your order. If you use PayPal, please don’t go through our online store. Instead, email us and we’ll send you a PayPal invoice for your order.”

Please note that this sale applies to current stock — preorders are not eligible for the sale. Don’t worry, there’s lots of excellent stuff available now.

Feel free to let people know about this.

4 Comments on “The Sam Sale at Subterranean: Good Books, Good Cause”

  1. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, father of pangolins

    I just bought yet another of your books (Questions for a Soldier) and another of Chucky Stross’ books (Missile Gap). Why does Daddy add to the guilt stack???

    I hope my contribution helps lil’ Sam. Pernicious diseases in little kids is just frigging awful.

    Incidentally, my wife – who reads mostly non-fiction philosophy or religious books – said to me last night, “What’s a good science fiction book to read?” Without hesitation I gave her OMW. It’s a great sf entry book, even for a woman who’s read her share of Ballard and Neal Stephenson.

  2. Good golly, 5 hours and NOBODY has posted in this thread yet?

    Most of us who are regulars here on “Whatever” are probably going to buy ~something~ from Subterranean in the next few months. So why wait until then?

    Go buy a book today. I don’t even HAVE kids, but I think we should all give a boost to Sam and his family.

  3. Damn you for catching me on Blue Monday. I’m feely especially funked and this nearly brought me to tears.

    When I get home — and closer to my credit cards — I’ll order. Meanwhile, I sent a sappy e-mail to all of my friends begging them to buy a frickin’ book.

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