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quercus mobile library, I'm 30 pages into Niven's Ringworld. Thus far, I have put up with clodhopping sexism, amusing one-dimensional aliens with bizarre-physiology-for-the-sake-of-it (including some cheerily stereotypical 'noble savage' types who act like Klingons but have 'learned to respect US human firepower'. Still I suppose this was written mid-Vietnam), spacecraft-porn and eugenics off-hand enough to make me consider hoofing the book through the (closed) window.
Does it get better, or should I be content in the realisation that I've become one of those annoying lit-snobs who sneer at all genre fiction, but especially the 'nude alien totty having sex with machinery' stuff?
If so, four-fifths of my books are going to have to find a better home...
(That's yer hyper-bowl, that is. No-one's getting near the Ballards or the Wyndhams without a fight. I would also imagine that the only easier targets would have been Doc Smith, Piers Anthony or Lionel Fanthorpe. Oh, and Martin Amis. Jesus. 'London fields' was just bloody grim)
quercus mobile library, I'm 30 pages into Niven's Ringworld. Thus far, I have put up with clodhopping sexism, amusing one-dimensional aliens with bizarre-physiology-for-the-sake-of-it (including some cheerily stereotypical 'noble savage' types who act like Klingons but have 'learned to respect Does it get better, or should I be content in the realisation that I've become one of those annoying lit-snobs who sneer at all genre fiction, but especially the 'nude alien totty having sex with machinery' stuff?
If so, four-fifths of my books are going to have to find a better home...
(That's yer hyper-bowl, that is. No-one's getting near the Ballards or the Wyndhams without a fight. I would also imagine that the only easier targets would have been Doc Smith, Piers Anthony or Lionel Fanthorpe. Oh, and Martin Amis. Jesus. 'London fields' was just bloody grim)
