Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 192: I bought a stack of Ed Wood books. So how did I do?

Yes, I bought this stack of books. Did I overpay? Underpay? Let's find out together.

Way back in the spring of 2015, there was a massive auction of Ed Wood memorabilia in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I knew I couldn't afford anything pricy, like Eddie's actual suitcase, but I felt like I wanted to get something. I settled for a poster advertising Glen or Glenda (1953) under one of its many alternate titles, I Led 2 Lives, and a collection of Mexican lobby cards for Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957) aka Espectros del espacio. The poster I had framed; it now hangs in my kitchen and greets me every morning. The lobby cards I keep in a binder and rarely look at. 

All in all, this set me back about $400—then and now a huge sum of money for me. When things got particularly lean a few years ago, I even considered selling these items at a loss before deciding that it was more trouble than it was worth. Not to mention depressing. So I kept them as stern reminders of what not to do with my money.

Because of that experience, I vowed I would never make another major and totally unnecessary Ed Wood-related purchase again.  I also knew that, someday, I would more than likely do it again. I bravely (?) held out for nearly a decade. Then, in the spring of 2024, I saw on Facebook that a fan was selling off some of his collection, including a stack of Wood (and Wood-adjacent) books. Since I rely mostly on e-books and PDF files in my research for this series, I own very few paperback and hardcover editions of Ed's work. So I was tempted.

After a couple of weeks of hemming and hawing and exchanging a few direct messages with the seller, we eventually settled on a deal: nine books for $350, including shipping. For you non-mathematicians out there, that's about $38 or $39 a book. Was I cheated? Did I do pretty okay for myself? Let's break it down, book by book, and find out.

When interviewing 'Star Wars' superfans goes very wrong

Amanda Avery shoots the camera a look during her interview with this model builder.

I don't know why, exactly, but I've been watching a lot of YouTube videos about Star Wars toys and the people who collect them lately. I don't collect Star Wars memorabilia myself; in fact, I try not to collect anything these days. It eats up money, and I don't have the space for it anyway. I'm not even a Star Wars fanatic. I grew up with the movies and still enjoy them, but they're not essential to my life. I even waited a whole week before seeing The Force Awakens. In recent years, I've become deeply ambivalent towards so-called "geek" or "fanboy" culture in general. I don't go to conventions or do any sort of model making or cosplay. I've been called a nerd many times in my life, but I don't identify with real nerds, the ones who know all the trivia and have pristine collections of mint-on-card action figures. I can't keep up with those guys and don't want to try.

So why do I watch Star Wars toy videos? For one, I love to hear people patiently explain things to me, as long as it's not about anything serious. Nothing about the news or health or finances. Just silly stuff. That's why I frequently watch product reviews for as-seen-on-TV gadgets I would never think of purchasing. It doesn't matter if I really care about the subject, just as long as the host or narrator cares about it. And that's what you get with Star Wars collectors. They can talk on and on, usually in a very calm and zen-like manner, about the various figures, playsets, and vehicles in their possession. A particular favorite of mine is Micahc6v8, who seems to have gone AWOL a couple of years ago. Those videos were my gateway drug into the world of Star Wars fandom on YouTube. Another great channel is The Budget Jedi, where the host only collects less-expensive, more-recent figures and builds homemade dioramas to display them. These clips are extremely soothing to me.

But sometimes, it can all go wrong. As proof, I just discovered a video in which a young woman named Amanda Avery interviews a Star Wars superfan who has built a gigantic, movie-accurate model of the Death Star in his North Carolina garage. To say the least, there is a profound disconnect between these two people. This plays like an extremely subtle but devastating Saturday Night Live skit, something that cringe-loving weirdo Kyle Mooney might have cooked up for the coveted "ten to one" slot. I can find no evidence that this was staged or scripted. For all I know, it's genuine. The model builder seems to take no joy whatsoever in his creation, and the hostess cannot help but roll her eyes at the camera throughout the conversation. What's more amazing is that this was the second attempt at filming a conversation between these two people. I repeat: This was Take 2. Amanda Avery is pilloried in the comments, but I think some viewers will sympathize with her. In a way, I sympathize with both of these people.

Anyway, I don't want to oversell this. Just watch. Thanks.