This phase represented the second in my development as a reader. Prior to the age of 10, I focused on biographies, looking for clues on how to be.
In science fiction, I was looking for clues about sex. And there were plenty. I recall one in which people of the future wore appliances in their pants with living tissue that satisfied their desires. This was designed to insure domestic tranquility. The pre-teen protagonist, too young to have been issued his gear, wondered why folks had pot bellies when nutritional science had been perfected.
A few years later, I bought a Vespa and could work after school in the real public library, as a book page. Sixty cents an hour, shelving returned books. This gave me access to stuff like Philip Roth and Updike and the two Kinsey Reports, so I could continue my investigations.
Now kids have sex ed and the internet. And we really know nothing about nutritional science.