Since the day Shakespeare ghostwrote the Bible for King James, we Anglophones have regarded reading as big stuff. But there’s no way you can read everything. Scientists calculate that it would take twelve hundred clones of Burgess Meredith—with fully functioning spectacles—a minimum of four hundred years just to read all the Count Saint-Germain novels.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t have that kind of time. So it’s only natural that if you wish to present yourself as a well-read person, a certain degree of complete bullshit is required.
If [Neil] Stephenson comes up in conversation, ask the people around you if Stephenson is cyberpunk or post-cyberpunk. Let them battle it out while you eat corn chips.