The writing life is surreal, a fact brought dramatically home to me when I wrote my first novel in the early 1990’s. The book was about the Grateful Dead — or about the deadheads in the parking lots, more specifically — and in my tale the Jerry Garcia-figure in the band died unexpectedly, and the rest of the band’s season turned into massive existential memorials. The book came out in 1994. A year later the real Garcia died unexpectedly, and the rest of the real band’s season turned into massive existential memorials.

Long story short: the deadhead community found something eerily prescient in that novel, The Millennium Shows, and it’s become something of a cult book for that reason, with collectible copies trading at about $125. But that market is soon to be dramatically undercut: Kearney Street Books will be bringing out a new edition of the book later this month.

Is it, as with any good first novel, over the top in every imaginable way? Yes. But has a single solitary line been changed from the original 1994 edition? Absolutely not.

Why? Because that way lies madness. Link to the new text forthcoming, if this is your sort of thing.