“One Night Stands and Lost Weekends” (HarperCollins, 384 pages, $14.95), by Lawrence Block: Beware the book whose author admits in the introduction he’s afraid to read the stories that follow:

“I’m scared I’ll decide not to publish them after all, and it’s too late for that. So an uncharacteristic attack of honesty compels me to advise you that I am in the curious position of introducing you to a couple of dozen short stories which I myself haven’t read in forty years.”

That’s from one of three introductions Block writes in “One Night Stands and Lost Weekends,” a fun if warmed over collection of the author’s early work, which had already been published in separate collectors’ volumes at the turn of the century.

The stories are just what the title suggests. Quickies sold to pulps and their descendants in the late 1950s and early 1960s in the first part of the book and easily digestible hard-boiled novellas in the second. They’re all easily forgettable — Block, in fact, forgot about a few — but curiously compelling.

Though they mirrored the dreck of the day — full of rapists, murders with semi-plausible twists and an unending line of bombshell blondes pulling a double-cross — Block shows the early promise that would lead him to Grand Master status with the Mystery Writers of America and four Edgar and Shamus awards.

His Matthew Scudder and Bernie Rhodenbarr characters are the gold standard. “One Night Stands and Lost Weekends” gives fans of Block’s work an early look at the flamboyant fun of the Rhodenbarr mysteries and the wry humor and violence of the Scudder noirs.

The first part of the book is populated with stories whose titles are self-explanatory: “Murder Is My Business,” “The Bad Night,” “Bargain in Blood” and “Hate Goes Courting.” They appeared in such forgettable magazines as Manhunt, Trapped and Two-Fisted.

The second part of the book contains three novellas first collected as “The Lost Cases of Ed London.” London is more anti-Scudder than proto-Scudder with an uncomplicated life — if you ignore the bullets flying — full of clients, drink and nubile young women looking to throw a suave Manhattan P.I. off the trail.

Both sets of stories are tasty like candy and a little addictive. But like Block acknowledges in his introductions, this book is really for those fans who’ve read the author’s contemporary work.

For those who want to introduce themselves to the author, skip this book and head directly to “When the Sacred Ginmill Closes” or “Burglars Can’t Be Choosers.”

You won’t be sorry.

We went over and waited on a not too long line. I was surprised on how far some people came out for this event. A couple in front of me came all the way from Pennsylvania just for this. We were let into the church around 7:00 PM, got our tickets and book and chose what we thought to be pretty good seats.

We spent our time making small talk with the people around us or reading the book we were given. I was bummed to learn no photographs were allowed and that since there were a thousand people in attendance they were only going to sign the book that was given us and no other.

The meeting started almost twenty minutes late, but finally the panel of speakers arrived. Stephen King was dressed in a light weave black sweater and jeans. He led a group of four other people who we were to learn are Jim Shepard, Karen Russell, Richard Russo and Heidi Pitlor. All were wearing some sort of black shirt or sweater – must be some sort of published writer ‘thang’.

Stephen gave a short talk, with his typical Down East wit and accent, on the health of the American short story and what it took to come up with the 20 stories selected out of the 4,000 he and Heidi Pitlor read. Next, each of the guest writers read a 5-minute excerpt of their story out of the book, then the panel spent some time answering questions – in which they elaborated on some in great detail.

One young woman asked “What advice you would give to a young writer that wants to get published.” I know Stephen King hears this same question thousands of times a year and it showed. He seemed put-off and bored with the question and just answered curtly, “Read a lot, write a lot.” I know the young woman was hoping for some sort of gem, but King cut right to the bone and told her what she needed to hear.

Being a complete noob to this sort of forum, what happened next took me by surprise. Here I am thinking, I am in a good spot, I am pretty close to the panel of writers and therefore, when they start calling rows for the book signing, it won’t be too long before I get to meet Mr. King up close and personal. I even had a quick couple of lines rehearsed to say to Mr. King that would sound new and refreshing to him and not the same old, “I’m your biggest fan, I’ve read everything you ever wrote…blah, blah, blah”.

While the questioning went on, I noticed people begin to get up and leave the church. The coordinator of the event said they were running short on time and the next person would have the last question. As soon as she said that I noticed a lot of people drift down the aisle to my left and begin to line up. I’m still thinking, “Hey, they’re not from the rows in front of me.” I began to realize this was to be a free for all line up. What happened next looked like it came right out of a movie or sitcom. As the last question was asked, I looked down to gather my things and tell my brother-in-law that I think we better line up, when I heard a rumbling as though from herd cattle with padded hooves. I looked up and saw the line, that had just seconds before held only about a dozen people, now extended to the back of the church and out the open front door.

I was so pissed at myself for not acting sooner. The panel discussion ended, we got up and followed the crowd outside. The line extended down the front stairs and extended down the walkway. Right there and then we decided we were not going to wait around on this line for a couple of hours to get the book signed.

I may not have been able to meet Steve King up close and personal or get the book signed, but I definitely know what to expect and look for when I go back next week to see Bill Bryson talk about his nostalgically funny The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid: A Memoir