Monday, March 27, 2006
Crap, Not Another One

The simple fact is, I don't really care much for science fiction. I never took to either Heinlein or Asimov, I never read Clark, and while I admire Dick and Gibson I've read only a little of their work. Which isn't to say that I never read anything in the genre, just that my favorite sf writers tended to use science fiction as a means rather than an end. For instance, I adored Douglas Adams, whom I discovered when I was about 11. A year or so later I began to read Harlan Ellison voraciously. And during high school I was stunned into silence by Stanislaw Lem. I remember reading Gigamesh when I was about fifteen and thinking, "what the fuck?" A few years later, reading Ulysses in college, I got the joke. And it was a goddamn funny joke. The thing they all have in common -- the thing that attracted me to them -- is an eagerness to fuck their own genre. There is nobody in this world I admire more than an inveterate genre-fucker. (I admit it, my mind is so postmodern I can no longer easily think in a straight line, and don't want to anyway.)

Douglas Adams was cruelly taken from us a long time ago; and yesterday Stanislaw Lem followed. Please, please can we keep Harlan just a little while longer?
9:53 PM ::
Amy :: permalink
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