It's a sphinx cat, damnit! A queen. Her name is Ripley. Nic and I are both in love - we think she's stunning.

All book stores need cats.

Amber is tricky to get into if you're not grabbed immediately. I really want the big "Great Book of Amber" volume that's out there.

The first series has a few gender role presumptions that make me twitch, but the second series is just wonderful. The ending of the last volume felt a little rushed, and I've always wondered if he was writing against a mental clock.

Oh, gosh, there is at least one book that someone finished and published, it's about a demon and a pocket universe, and it's so very obvious which parts Zelazny wrote and which were filled in from notes.

I wonder why Zelazny doesn't seem to get the play and notoriety as Asimov and Clarke?

I wonder why Zelazny doesn't seem to get the play and notoriety as Asimov and Clarke?

Possibly because of the "world-class scientist" status of the other two? I mean, Uncle I was an essayist, a scientist, a researcher and a general science writer, as I recall, as well as writing fiction. And truth to tell, among the dozen or so science fiction books that I do love, Clarke has one (I consider Childhood's End one of the great novels of the last century, period, genre irrelevant, right up there with A Canticle for Liebowitz), and Isaac has none. But both of them were seen as "educators", which back in the when-old-days conferred legitimacy.

Which sucks. Because fiction, yo.

Hairless cats feel like a warm peach, or a chamois hot water bottle. When you make them happy, they respond with a full body blush. So adorable. "You pinked the kitty!" Meeting one in person was much nicer than I had expected, because they look wrinkly and shriveled and odd.

It's a sphinx cat, damnit!

I know they're called that, but I tend to refer to them as hairless cats, because most *other* people don't know they're called sphinx cats. Force of habit.

A queen. Her name is Ripley. Nic and I are both in love - we think she's stunning.

Oh, they're lovely. If I got a kitty, it would be a sphinx. And Katerina Bee is right -- they're like a sueded hot water bottle. With muscles.

Heh. The only oddity is that they don't jump with the same classic elegance of their hairier cousins; the lack of whiskers and eyebrows make it tricky.

No whiskers? Huh.

No whiskers, no brows. But every muscle, sleek and visible. Gorgeous cats.

I fear I am not large with Amber love myself.

I read one one high recommendation from a friend ( 9 Princes in Amber , I think) and just didn't spark to it.

I think I might be more of a short story fan, though. Any particular collections to recommend?

Dunno about the collections, but Betsy's right, and "A Rose for Ecclesiastes" is quite brilliant.