Escape to wimp eden

Suddenly I couldn't read another word of Borges, wimped out, and picked up the first collection of the old Armistead Maupin Tales of the City stories; three volumes later, I think I need a break from them, although they've been pleasant as fresh popcorn. They make the San Francisco of the late 1970's, early '80's, very appealing, at least until a volume or two later, when all hell comes down on Babylon by the Bay.