I've come to realize that, no matter how much I've read in my life, it hasn't been enough.

My youth was consumed by Clive Barker, Stephen King, Anne Rice, H.P. Lovecraft, Dean Koontz, Peter Straub, Richard Layman, and the like.  Pretty much, I dedicated myself to "genre fiction", and didn't stray too far outside that realm.

Later on, I discovered new (to me) arena's of fiction.  Walter Mosley - love him.  John Banville - ditto.  Carl Hiaasen - fantastic.  Michael Swanwick - Yum.  Neil Gaiman - modern-day goodness.  It was so fantastic to read these stories by these authors who, in my prejudiced, I would have written off as "uncool".

Now, I have jumped into the fray with Philip K. Dick - he of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, which is the novel that the movie Blade Runner is loosely based on.  I am currently reading The Man in the High Castle, which is widely considered to be the seminal work of speculative alt-history fiction.  It is such a fantastic book, and I would suggest that anyone who wishes to broaden their horizons when it comes to literature should start up with him.  Dick writes from a dangerous place, and it is through this paranoia and preternatural understanding of human frailty and faults that makes (at least the novel I'm reading right now)  him great.

I will write a review of this book when I'm finished with it.  Until then, pick it up for yourself.  You'll be glad you did.

-RJD