When I was a yoof, I was a big science fiction fan. I served my time with Asimov and Clarke, working up through Huxley, but my favourite SF author was Harry Harrision, and my favourite Harrison book was the Stainless Steel Rat's Revenge.
At A level Eng Lit, it was compulsory to be embarassed about reading SF and I tended to mutter about Golding and The Inheritors. Then I became a scientist, and apart from the odd J.P. Donleavy in the holidays, there was no time for fiction at all.
My SF phase ended long before cyberpunk began, but of late, Tony's been making me feel uneducated. So over Easter, I read Neal Stevenson's Snow Crash.
Just as Gibson's Neuromancer predicted the internet, so Stephenson's Snow Crash predicts Second Life, right down to the hackers laughing at the noobs and the people who can't afford or don't indulge in expensive computers. Snow Crash was an easy read because it has a great narrative. And strangely familiar ... steel rats, eh?
And I don't feel guilty about reading SF again. Or if I do, it's a guilty pleasure.