Last week I read Spider Robinson Callahan's Legacy

It was, well, horrible.

I have Robinson's first three collections of Callahan's stories in a box in storage. I sort of liked them. If I find that box before I forget this book, I will throw the older books away for they will be tainted with the memory of this foulness, just like fresh chicken left out over a long weekend can put you off poultry for a month.

I really like some of Robinson's work - "God is an Iron" is one of my favorite short stories - but too much of his stuff is literary hackwork or a moment in which he obsesses over telepathy. Not having an overriding desire to become telepathic, I have trouble accepting some of his formulations and assumptions. Most of his fiction is licorice.