But OH the Shame!

[grammarwoman]

seperis, pundit vixen that she is, pointed out brown_betty's Oh My God, I Can See Your Id!, a discussion of books "where an author appears to be exposing her id, and doesn't know it."

Most of my favorite authors from my pre-adolescent through teen years are mentioned in the comments, from Anne McCaffrey and Mercedes Lackey to David Eddings and Robert Heinlein, with special mentions of Marion Zimmer Bradley and other fixtures.

I was already feeling embarrassed by some of those just by the way they have not aged well at all, or that I have. Now I don't even know if there will be anything left in our library to steer the Emperor towards the Good Stuff. "Um, well, there's Jim Butcher and Glen Cook and Kage Baker and...Crap. Lemme get back to you."

Comments

[sapphireone.livejournal.com]

Now I have spent *way too long* reading that post.

My great-uncle was John W. Campbell, a no-longer so well-known early SF author. In all of whose books, the blond and blue-eyed men win the day, and beautiful women come flocking to them, longing to clean for them and bear their children. Even if it requires wearing a full-body stocking to conceal the fact that they have *three breasts* instead of the normal two.

[grammarwoman]

OK, that's just awesome. I don't know that I've read much Campbell, but I've definitely heard of him. To give them credit, early SF authors were the ground-breakers, so we can't exactly hold them to the same standards.

(I'm a sucker for people talking about books, what can I say?)