One winter I lived in the woods in Maine with 4 other people, in a one-room A-frame with a divided, doorless loft. One by one the others read Dune, by Frank Herbert, and one by one they went into a depression (not in the least exacerbated by the fact that we were living on top of each other 24/7). When it was my turn, I had the brains to skip it. It's like reading Lord of the Flies on a camping trip, Anula explained. She also clued me in that there's a bar on Avenue B called Lovecraft. Did he drink? she wondered.
I do like time travel: Jack Finney's Time and Again and Connie Willis's series where people from the present are whisked to WWII–era London, but I think that's because they're really history and full of humans. In so much sci fi, it seems like the characters are at the service of the plot, which is already unfairly wriggled by the author.
I do like time travel: Jack Finney's Time and Again and Connie Willis's series where people from the present are whisked to WWII–era London, but I think that's because they're really history and full of humans. In so much sci fi, it seems like the characters are at the service of the plot, which is already unfairly wriggled by the author.