I have a family rich in a tradition of surprising each other with off the wall stuff out of the blue that we know is not in the genre or type that the one we gift expects. We all do it. Darn it. OTOH, my mother was the one that bought John Norman's paperback books up until about 4 in the series and my sisters and I had little trouble turning up the rest. I think we can all agree that Fort Riley, Manhattan and Junction City were literary deserts in the years that the Vietnam War was winding down and that's where we lived and I didn't even start reading Perry Rhodan until we drove to Saint Johns in Newfoundland from Newport, RI and I finally accepted that there are literary deserts of unplumed depth. Oh Canada, you, without Farley Mowat, would be a most bleak desert. Readers need to read The Boat Who Wouldn't Float, The Serpent's Coil and Grey Seas Under.
So, the 2 have given me all the Leckie books, and I have them on a shelf unread, I will give them a chance this week even though I have little expectation of good. Charles de Lint surprised me and so too did Neverwhere by Gaiman; both gifts from a sister-in-law. I would not have bought either of them but they proved sound and I read a lot more of Gaiman's books after reading the words he wrote that I never would have bothered with by my own self. I shant bother with the Hugo award types of recent age. yjru,pdy;u frgomr trsfrtd smf siyjptd pg trvrmy shr snf yjru divl/. Yeah, it's all like one keystroke off to the right, I just listened to whossnames acceptance declaration and screw reading its crap whatever it's about. Leave that to MSNBC and CNN.