As longtime readers surely know, Pulp Fantasy Library is one of the oldest and most enduring features on Grognardia. The very first installment appeared on January 5, 2009 and, over time, the series grew to encompass more than 300 entries. Few things I’ve written for this blog have generated as much interest, commentary, and sheer staying power as this series, which continues to attract readers old and new, even though, until fairly recently, I had stopped writing new Pulp Fantasy Library posts.
The roots of the series go back to an earlier feature, Pulp Fantasy Gallery, in which I showcased the cover art that adorned so many fantasy and science fiction paperbacks of the 1950s, ‘60s, and ‘70s. These covers were vibrant, often lurid, and impossible to ignore, filled with sword-swinging heroes, sinister sorcerers, and alien landscapes. For a generation of readers, including, I have no doubt, Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson, they were the gateway into the strange worlds of pulp fantasy and science fiction. The Gallery was my way of celebrating that visual legacy.
Pulp Fantasy Library was the natural next step. Where the Gallery focused on the imagery, the new series delved into the stories themselves: the novels, short stories, and anthologies that had shaped fantasy and science fiction from the 1920s through the 1970s. These were the texts that seeded the ground from which roleplaying games would eventually sprout. If the Gallery was a tour through the museum of fantasy’s esthetic memory, the Library became a guided exploration of its literary canon.
When I launched the series in 2009, this was not as common a project as it might seem now. The early days of the Old School Renaissance were filled with a hunger for origins. Many of us felt that Dungeons & Dragons, with the then-imminent release of its fourth edition, had strayed so far from its roots that it was nearly unrecognizable. The OSR was not just a revival of old rulesets; it was a kind of intellectual archeology. We wanted to uncover where D&D had truly come from, not only by examining its immediate history but also by tracing its literary, artistic, and cultural ancestry.
Naturally, much of that discussion turned toward Appendix N, the short but famous list tucked into the back of the AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide, where Gary Gygax had named the books and authors that inspired him. Appendix N was, in hindsight, almost too tempting: a ready-made treasure map pointing back to the sources of the hobby. But in 2008–2009, it had not yet been mined in depth and the conversations surrounding it felt fresh and exciting. I wasn’t the only one who noticed its importance. Indeed, I’ve often credited Erik Mona of Paizo (ironically, the publisher of Pathfinder, itself a child of Fourth Edition’s upheaval) with nudging me toward a closer examination. Soon enough, Appendix N became a touchstone of the OSR blogosphere, spawning countless posts, reading lists, and discussions.
Pulp Fantasy Library was my own contribution to this wider project of rediscovery. My aim was never to be exhaustive or definitive, though after more than 300 entries, it sometimes felt that way. Instead, my goal was threefold. First, to point readers toward stories that had shaped our hobby. Second, to comment on their strengths, weaknesses, and quirks, offering some critical perspective. And third, to suggest how these works might still serve as sources of inspiration for our games today.
Along the way, the series introduced many readers to authors they had never encountered before, whether forgotten pulpsters, mid-century fantasists, or one-hit wonders who nonetheless left a mark on the genre. It also revisited better-known figures, like Robert E. Howard, H.P. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, and Fritz Leiber but always with an eye toward what made them relevant to the evolution of roleplaying. In this way, Pulp Fantasy Library became both a reading guide and a kind of informal syllabus for anyone curious about the literary roots of the hobby.
Looking back, I think Pulp Fantasy Library accomplished far more than I ever intended. What began as a personal project quickly became a resource that other bloggers, writers, and even publishers could draw upon. It provided a shared foundation, a common vocabulary, for OSR discussions about inspiration and influence. More than that, it reminded us that roleplaying games are not closed systems sealed off from the wider world. They are part of a much larger cultural conversation, one that stretches back through decades of the popular fiction that preceded the hobby and gave it shape.
Of course, not everyone agreed with that perspective. Believe it or not, emphasizing pulp fantasy and its formative role in the creation of Dungeons & Dragons was sometimes controversial. More than a few younger gamers, many of whom had entered the hobby well after OD&D or AD&D, when those literary roots were less visible, found my focus unnecessary or even off-putting. Some accused me of being a retrograde “fundamentalist,” unwilling to accept that the hobby had “evolved” beyond the so-called “bad old days” of its infancy. These voices were ultimately a minority, but I’d be lying if I said they didn’t sting at times.
Even so, I pressed on. The series grew steadily, post by post, until it numbered in the hundreds. Eventually, though, the sheer effort required to maintain that pace began to take its toll. After years of regular contributions, I stepped away from the project. I’ve written elsewhere about why I let it lapse, so I won’t belabor the point here. Suffice it to say that Pulp Fantasy Library was always a labor of love, but one that demanded more time and energy than I could sustain indefinitely.
Yet even in its dormancy, I never doubted the value of what the series set out to do. If anything, I believe its mission is even more pressing today than it was in 2009. The hobby has grown larger, broader, and more diffuse and, in that growth, it is easy to lose sight of the traditions and ideas that first made Dungeons & Dragons (and roleplaying games more generally) possible. Returning to the sources isn’t about nostalgia or gatekeeping, despite what some detractors might claim. It’s about acknowledging that the roots of our hobby are deep, tangled, and endlessly fascinating, offering insights and inspirations that remain relevant no matter how much the games themselves change.
In the end, Pulp Fantasy Library was my attempt to tend those roots and keep them alive. That so many readers have found the series useful, entertaining, and thought-provoking remains one of the most gratifying outcomes of my time writing Grognardia.