Ah yes, fans of a moan and a mumble, something life affirming happened today. My grouchiness, eagerness to pick holes in the way things are done and wholehearted sense of what is right and what is wrong about laying out a bookshop by genre all collided in a moment of realisation. An epiphany.
I am not alone.
There are more people than just this prematurely embittered reader/ writer/ caustic slacker who cannot fathom or abide the fact that book stores are more and more frequently taking dragons and magic swords and confusing them with the way engines could soon work in a vaccuum, and how AI may evolve. That's right.
It's not just me who can distinguish between science-fiction and fantasy. Warlocks vs genetic experiments. Talking trees vs self sustaining echo forests. And so on. And no, Messrs Waterstone, Library and Internet, they are not exactly the same thing at all.
And no, it isn't a case of "they won't notice or care." People will, have and do.
Two ladies came in asking for a copy of Gregory Maguire's "Wicked". When I pointed them to Science Fiction they turned to me in confusion and just said "But... it's not science fiction."
Thank you, whatever gods of dog-eared, yellowing pages you were, looking down on me.
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