If you're playing along at home and you're trying to guess the number of copies of HoHH I possess, you can start counting the hardcovers. Many of them are gifts from my friend Angie (the blue British edition in the top left hand corner; the gorgeous embossed copy from Easton Press; the blue and yellow hardcover on the bottom row). The two with the creepy yellow flowers and the house lurking in the background were Holy Grails for me; one I found on Etsy for a bit of a price, and the yellow copy (with the jacket attached), which was rebranded in 1968, three years after Shirley's death, I found for a song on Abe Books, I believe (check 'em out). I am not, however, a huge fan of the copy from Guillermo Del Toro on the bottom left. The copy displayed on its spine is the Reader's Digest Condensed version I found in a thrift shop in Glasgow the summer of 1994, when I discovered Shirley initially; it has stunning illustrations that perfectly encapsulate the characters for me, exactly as I pictured them. I'll post those below as well.
Here are the paperback copies. It's amazing to me how many different editions exist, especially in softcover; as I've said before on the podcast, if I like a book I will buy as many different editions asI can get my paws on (which explains why I have sixty billion copies of The Wizard of Oz, Dracula, and King's 'Salem's Lot). The two copies in the bottom right corner are the two I referred to during the episode: the one with the gingham-looking border, featuring Luke glaring at the audience, was the first copy I ever owned, and the one beside it is the first copy I actually ever read, donated to me by the librarians of Hellgate High School.
An excellent British paperback edition I do not possess (yet).
A closeup of the Penguin edition from 1984, and the first I ever owned: there's Luke, looking directly at us, and Eleanor, huddled in the corner; headless Dr. Montague; and Theo, tucked neatly into the chair with her legs over the arm. I have been known to attack a chair myself in just that manner. While I enjoy it, it certainly doesn't seem to proclaim that this is a horror novel, or even a ghost story. (Although I do enjoy the "fatuous little cupid" statue Jackson describes perched up on the mantle.)
Summer of 2010, showing Ryan my (as-of-yet unowned) Holy Grail (in the Glasgow library).
A closeup of the first edition dustjacket. Powell's Bookstore in Portland, Oregon, has a signed first edition for $2000.
The illustrations by Ben Stahl from the 1959 Reader's Digest Condensed version.
Eleanor tries to run over Dudley-at-the-gate.
Theo tempts the statue of Hugh Crain.
Eleanor and Theo clutch each other as something unseen bangs on the door. What was it? Stephen King insists that the door be opened; I disagree.
Eleanor, going higher and higher ...