I've never warmed up to science fiction.  

I'm sure it's a personal failing.  I suspect it has something to do with a preference for the "could be true."  

As a child, I had a rich fantasy life, but it was firmly grounded in a life I might aspire to.  I had imaginary human playmates.  Imaginary horses I rode back and forth to school.  I entertained my younger sister with tales of an imaginary automat that dispensed food into our bedroom at night.  I wove an elaborate fantasy about a dangerous fellow named Dan-the-Bum who haunted the playground.  We were the detectives who had to track him down. 

From an early age, I was a bookworm.  I loved stories of the past and stories of an enticing but possible future reality, full of romance and mystery and faraway places.  

But fantastic worlds that could never happen?   I didn't see the appeal.  I even went through a phase when I wouldn't wear clothing with images of stuff on it, like that strange dirndl skirt with the lollipop print.  It seemed to bend reality in a way that made me uneasy. 

Well, okay,  I did like Edgar Allen Poe.  And ghost stories.  But that's fantasy or speculative fiction, right?   Science fiction just seemed weird and cold and hard.

But then I discovered a hidden gem that made me reconsider.

It's such a hidden gem that I can't reveal the name of the story.   The author is a friend, a member of my writing group. He's also right here on Red Room, come to think of it.   I'll call him  Mr. X. 

Mr. X has published a number of nonfiction books.  But he also writes fiction.  A couple of years ago, he started working on a short story and began to share it with the group.   It opened like  a perfectly realistic short story, in a familiar San Francisco setting.

But then suddenly, there was this fantasy element.  Time travel. Alternate reality. Bait and switch.  Oh-oh.  My sci-fi alert went off.   I issued a polite disclaimer.  I don't usually read this kind of thing, so I'm not the best judge. . . 

But I suspended disbelief and soldiered on.  

I got hooked.  

It's a wonderful story.  Beautifully detailed setting.  Quirky characters. Suspense. A slightly old-fashioned quality to the language that I've come to love.  It's a world in which I've come to feel at home.  But it could never happen.  At least I don't think so.

I feel privileged to have watched Mr X's work evolve:  from short story to longer story to  novella.   If all goes well, it won't be a hidden gem for too much longer.

In the meantime, I just may look around for more science fiction to read.