RIP Ray Bradbury

I started writing this last week. It just never got posted.

I think I was 12 or 13 when I first read The Martian Chronicles. I remember asking my dad for something to read and since I'd already worked my way through Dune and Ringworld, he must have thought he'd suggest another of his writing heros. I do remember that it was summer and that I stayed inside curled up on the couch reading the book. I was entranced. I'm sure I knew the world colonization but it was the emotions that made me unable to put the book down. The wonderful mix of loneliness, uncertainty, fear, joy, and discovery was what made each story sing. I read the book in two days. And since then I've always loved Bradbury.

On my shelves upstairs I have The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, Something Wicked This Way Comes, Dandelion Wine, Forever Summer, Fahrenheit 451, I Sing the Body Electric, and One More For the Road. He is the author that I've owned the most books by. He's the author that never once disappointed me. Even his odd mysteries in the last couple years have a charm for me. So although I knew he was older (91 when he died), I don't think I ever really expected him to die. Or at least I hoped that I would get to shake his hand once before he did. Now that won't happen. I was a bit upset when Maurice Sendak died earlier this month. But I cried when I found out Ray Bradbury was dead. It seemed impossible.

Since his death I've been reading obituaries and tributes to him. I've read a lot of people gushing about him, and only a bit of it was about his writing. Ray Bradbury was a man who wrote every day of his adult life but who still took the time to answer much of his fan mail with a real letter written out on his typewriter. I've seen wonderful examples of letters he sent to his fans filled with anecdotes, advice, and encouragement. I've read people talk about how amazing a friend he was. And I read the sheer human emotion that he wrote with. I have a section of quotes in my quote book dedicated to him. He's said so many wonderful things. He is a huge fan of libraries and stories. And he's been an idol of mine since that summer over two decades ago when I finally realized how good writing could be. I'm sad that he's no longer with us. But I hope that his legacy (both as a writer and a person) lives on.

Stuff your eyes with wonder...live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. 

See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. 

--Ray Bradbury

We are all cups, constantly and quietly being filled.

The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.

Literary lust

I've been quiet with the blog these last couple of days. It's not that I haven't had anything to say but I've been focused elsewhere. I haven't even logged onto World of Warcraft yet this week. What has been keeping me so occupied? Literary Lust. 

I go through these periods occasionally. Literary lust is a brief passionate affair with an author. Okay now before you talk to me about monogamy and Jeff's feelings, don't worry. Basically these periods mean that all I do is read every piece of writing by a particular author that I can get my hands on. And I mean all I do. No housework, little time with Jeff. Heck, its tough to make myself go to work. And the poor cat keeps looking at me as if she hates me. 

I have had literary affairs with John Irving, Jane Austen, Christopher Moore, Neil Gaiman, E.M. Forester, to name a few. These affairs tend to last a couple weeks, until I have exhausted all the books by an author or until I move on to another writer. My current lust is actually an old passion. I picked up a book of short stories by Ray Bradbury and fell all over again. If you can possibly read "Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed" and not be amazing by the man, explain it to me. Show me where "The Veldt" didn't have enough tension for you. Read Fahrenheit 451 and tell me you are not moved. And then read Dandelion Wine and tell me you are not nostalgic for a time you never lived in. 

I have been reading passionately this past week. Barely pulling myself away to eat. And I love food, almost as much as reading. This lust period is a little different though. I actually mixed in a different author today. Stuck at work with no book, I went online to www.literature-network.com. This site is a free website that offers public domain stories in full text. I picked Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte because a friend had recommended it.Anyone who tells you that the classics are boring have not read this book. Stabbings, insanity, false marriage proposals, fires, and orphans make for exciting reading. I devoured it in two days. I still have not gotten to the library to pick up The Illustrated Man to resume my passion. I have had a taste of the book and need to finish. And then perhaps this Bradbury affair will again be replaced. I don't stay in one place long, at least reading-wise. Until then I will awe at the far-off worlds, tense moments, and pure horror that Bradbury can create in a well crafted paragraph. If you have never read him, pick up Something Wicked This Way Comes. I guarantee you will be hooked.