I will never fully understand people who don’t enjoy reading.
I just finished “For the Win,” and, once again, I feel as though I just got off a ride: breathless, a little shaky, exhilarated, inspired to do superhuman feats, high. I don’t know how he does it, again, and again, and again. How does he know so much? How does he make it so much fun to learn? How does he stay on top of all these leading-edge trends in – not just “the Internet”, whatever that means anymore – but with economics and inter-cultural relations and labor and technology? How does he manage to predict and create the future?
I’m a little bit in love with him. And Rudy Rucker. And Octavia E. Butler. There’s this longing in me that their stories create, this feeling that I will never get enough. I worry that I’ll become some kind of Mycroft Ward if I can’t stop consuming, making these stories a part of my being. But the beauty of fantastic fiction is that it will never subsume your own personality, only enhance it and your understanding of the world. These people are world-changers, and they do it through story, one reader at a time. That is amazing.