Includes, among others, correspondence with George Sterling, H.P. Lovecraft, Donald Wandrei, and August Derleth.

A Clark Ashton Smith Single. Set the in the Land of Averoigne a narrative by written by the young Christophe Morand about his unaccountable disappearance in 1798.

Clark Ashton Smith came in touch with August Derleth in 1930, when, following H. P. Lovecraft's instruction, Smith forwarded to Derleth the manuscript of Lovecraft's tale, "The Whisperer in Darkness." Derleth replied immediately and included without preliminaries several stories of his own. Thus began a correspondence, a friendship, and ultimately a business relationship that extended more than thirty years. The letters of Clark Ashton Smith and August Derleth afford an intimate glimpse into the lives of two working writers. They offer a rare opportunity to see how Derleth managed his writing and also his growing publishing company, Arkham House, even to the particulars of content selection, royalty payments, and so on. Derleth's concern for Smith's well-being is manifestly evident, as is the commitment of Derleth and Donald Wandrei to publishing Smith's greatest book--even if it meant twenty-two years of enduring patience to do so. For his part, Smith clearly regarded Derleth as a friend, colleague, and financial lifeline. Even if their interests somewhat diverged in their later years, they both cherished each other's association and worked together where they feasibly could. These letters chronicle the heyday and then the demise of Weird Tales and other pulp magazines; the establishment of what long remained the leading small press in the weird fiction field; and many other personal and literary issues that illuminate the minds and personalities of their authors.

The Miscellaneous Fictions of Clark Ashton Smith gathers together the adventure, juvenilia and other non-fantastic fiction of Smith. While he is known best for his fantastic work, these adventure and mainstream stories shed light on the development of Smith's writing and his constantly evolving style. The Miscellaneous Fictions is a perfect companion to the five volume Collected Fantasies set. As with that set, editors Scott Connors and Ron Hilger have prepared this volume by comparing original manuscripts, various typescripts, published editions, and Smith's notes and letters, in order to prepare a definitive set of texts. Contents of The Miscellaneous Fictions include "The Animated Sword," "The Malay Crise," "The Ghost of Mohammed Din," "The Mahout," "The Rajah and the Tiger," "Something New," "The Flirt," "The Perfect Woman," "A Platonic Entanglement," "The Expert Lover," "The Parrot," "A Copy of Burns," "Checkmate," "The Infernal Star," "The Dead will Cuckold You," "House of the Monoceros," "Dawn of Discord," and many others.

The object had the form of a great jar, with a tapering neck and a deep, round, abdomens body. It was wholly encrusted with shells and corals that had gathered upon it as if through many ages in the ocean deeps, and was festooned with weeds and sea-flowers such as we had never before beheld; so that we could not determine the substance of which it was made.Excerpt I thank you, friend, but I am no drinker of wine, not even if it be the rarest Canary or the oldest Amontillado. Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging . . . and more than others, I have reason to know the truth that was writ by Solomon the Jewish king. Give ear, if ye will, and I shall tell you a story such as would halt the half-drained cup on the lips of the hardiest bibber.We were seven-and-thirty buccaneers, who raked the Spanish Main under Barnaby Dwale, he that was called Red Barnaby for the spilling of blood that attended him everywhere. Our ship, the Black Falcon, could outfly and outstrike all other craft that flew the Jolly Roger. Full often, Captain Dwale was wont to seek a remote isle on the eastward verge of the West Indies, and lighten the vessel of its weight of ingots and doubloons.The isle was far from the common course of maritime traffic, and was not known to maps or other mariners; so it suited our purpose well. It was a place of palms and sand and cuffs, with a small harbor sheltered by the curving outstretched arms of rugged reefs, on which the dark ocean climbed and gnashed its fangs of white foam without troubling the tranquil waters beyond. I know not how many times we had visited the isle; but the soil beneath many a coco tree was heavy with our hidden trove. There we had stored the loot of bullion-laden ships, the massy plate and jewels of cathedral towns.Even as to all mortal things, an ending came at last to our visits. We had gathered a goodly cargo, but might have stayed longer on the open main where the Spaniards passed, if a tempest had not impended. We were near the secret isle, as it chanced, when the skies began to blacken; and wallowing heavily in the rising seas we fled to our placid harbor, reaching it by night-fall. Before dawn the hurricane had blown by; and the sun came up in cloudless amber and blue. We proceeded with the landing and burying of our chests of coin and gems and ingots, which was a task of some length; and afterward we refilled our water-casks at a cool sweet spring that ran from beneath the palmy hill not far inland.