Heh. My prejudice against science fiction came from simple ignorance. All I knew of the field was based on those shlocky low-budget movies Hollywood ground out in the pre-2001: A Space Odyssey days. In bookstores I'd look at the lurid cover art on the SF novels and the trashy magazine covers and think, "Oh, puh-leeze." So I'd never actually read any of the stuff; although I should have known better, I was judging the book by its cover.

It was a collection of short stories by Robert Sheckley that my son handed me. A good choice; Sheckley's low-tech approach was just right for someone like me. Back before he lost his gifts, Sheckley was writing a wry, knowing sort of fiction -- and I just ate it up. I read everything of his I could get my hands on, and that eventually led me to other (and even better) writers. Once I realized what I'd been missing, I did a lot of catch-up reading -- and I mean a lot.

Never could stomach Heinlein, though.