I remember the first time I brought home a Philip K Dick novel; my mother threw a fit, wanting to know why I’d want to read a book by a whacked out druggie. I had no answer, I was just 10, and still judged much of what I was going to read by the cover. I set aside the offending book, promised I wouldn’t touch any more of his books, and then read it that night under the covers with a flashlight.
It was Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said. The book didn’t have a transformative effect in my life, but it did give birth to a love of science fiction based not in space, but here on earth, and the possible futures that it might bring.
The first book I ever bought for myself was a short story collection, “Golden Apples of the Sun” by Ray Bradbury. I sure could have chosen worse. It was a little red-covered paperback, and it cost me $0.75 at a Waldenbooks.
Funny how some people remember their first exposure to PKD.
In '68 I found a copy of Counter Clock World in a thrift store for a nickel and figured I couldn't go wrong and it resulted in my reading just about everything he ever wrote.
A slight correction to the article. I know of at least 11 of his stories that have been made into movies which, I think, is more than any author short of Stephen King.