in re piers anthony

It was in 9th grade, reading the second-to-last (I think; years of substance abuse have served their intended purpose and muddled these memories a bit, thank fuck) Space Tyrant novel, wherein the main character finally gets to have space-sex with his brain-damaged 14-year-old adopted daughter (yes, folks, really), when I finally began to think to myself, “self, this is actually pretty fucked up.”

[Originally posted somewhere in the comments of avclub.com; I was pleased with the paragraph and it’s a little too long for twitter, so it goes here.  I’m inaugurating a new tag “commentaria”, for the occasional exercise of this sort of self-promotion.]

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I’m proud to say that even in my Piers-Anthony-reading days, I never started the Bio of a Space Pervert series.

I dated a niece of his for a bit. Never got to meet him and I’ll be a gentleman and not imply anything about insanity being genetic. (My “self … fucked up” moment came with a line similar to “a cockpit without a cock” in the Xanth series. Er, what?)