MemeMachineGo!

In his day, Reginald Bretnor was a huge name in science fiction. Now, he's fairly obscure. I really like his story Unknown Things, online as a free sample of a small press collection of his stories, The Timeless Tales of Reginald Bretnor.

I have met any number of collectors during my thirty years in the antique trade: greedy ones (though, of course, they're all greedy one way or another), and some with superb taste and a deep understanding of their fields, some with book knowledge and no taste at all, others who collect status symbols or security blanks, rare people with whom it is a joy to converse and many more utter bores, and others still so unbelievably eccentric that they defy classification. But Andreas Hoogstraten was the strangest of them all. Always polite, almost always smiling, he still seemed to carry with him that eerie coldness you find in haunted houses. Neither his obvious wealth nor his perfect tailoring, neither his patrician nose, sleek blond hair, and thick, impossibly yellow eyebrows, nor a voice as soft and gentle as a wooing dove's could conceal it, at least from me.