The first sex scene I ever read was between dragons. Too young and naïve to understand exactly what was happening but too smart not to get the gist of it anyway, I sank breathless-body-and-broke-open-soul into bronze Mnementh’s aerial capture of the gold queen Ramoth, and—simultaneously, of course—into Lessa’s acceptance of F’lar.
Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonflight introduced me to adulthood. I read the planetary battle against Thread and the power politics of Pern with the fascinated eagerness of a teen who understood little of Vietnam or Watergate but thirsted for justice in the world. I devoured the intricacies of intrigue in a society under an alien threat in which people nevertheless fought each other for power. I reveled in the noble heroics and in tragedy that turned triumphant.
And Lessa and F’lar’s love affair enthralled me.