Another clue as to possible reasons why I ran away from him. Letter of January 23, 1963. He is complaining about the local base library.

Now, nothing he says is anything I would not have said myself in similar circumstances. I could be (still can be) as big an intellectual snob as anyone. As a matter of fact, one of the things he complains about is an inability to locate any of the books that I have suggested. What those books were, I have no idea, but they were not carried in this library. The most recent New York Times was from December 8, which he calls "obviously understandable," but there is no Huxley, Sarte, Camus, Whitehead, Mill, etc..."Nothing!"

All very well and good, but then he ends with this line: "A whole row of shelves is devoted entirely to Science Fiction rot."

As I remember, I liked science fiction. I wonder if he ever read Vonnegut. Who also refused to identify himself with other "sci-fi" writers.

So it goes.