So I went and read a humorous holiday-themed sf m/m short story, Angela Benedetti's "The Joy of Exchanging Gifts." This is not an intersection of categories that I normally look for, and yet I thoroughly enjoyed it. It involved anthropology and sex in quite possibly the most awkward position I can imagine, and somehow that was a winning combination for me. It was rather like the time I read my first mystery novel after years of reading only fantasy, sf, and English class assignments: I got all excited not just by the story itself, but by the door opening, the realization that there's this entire world out there that I never looked at before, and now I get to go romp in it.
I think I need to stop hitting the fantasy category first thing at various publishers' sites, and be more open-minded. Even if a certain genre makes me feel wearier than that guy who went trooping 500 miles and then 500 more, there's always the chance that some wonderful author has gone and made it fresh again. After all, genres are only single-dimensional labels that can't capture some of the aspects that appeal most to me about a book — a type of character, a plot button, or, most importantly, the quality of writing.
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