Rocker missing its occupant - Smoky Mountains
2010 has not been kind to the literary world – we’ve lost luminary JD Salinger, poet extraordinaire Lucille Clifton, and two of the most popular mystery writers to ever dance their pen across a page – Robert Parker and Dick Francis.
I’ve mourned as eulogies have riddled the TV and radio waves, printed pages, and cyberspace. Many of my friends have written about one, or more, of these writers in their blogs and I shared their grief, finding camaraderie with others suffering the same punch to the gut.
Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye changed the landscape of fiction forever. Holden Caulfield, narrator with a casual, irreverent, tone, takes his readers on an adolescent ride. Written in 1951, it remains a staple for most high school reading lists – one students almost inhale.
Lucille Clifton’s poetry – so accessible! – is to be savored. If you haven’t had an opportunity to enjoy her work, check out this video clip of her reading “won’t you celebrate with me.”
Dick Francis, with his jockey background took us into the world of horses as never done before. I picked up my first Francis novel when my son was taking hunter/jump riding lessons. After that first one, I scoured the shelves for older publications and followed his publication history with enthusiasm.
But my reader’s heart is truly shaken at the passing of Robert Parker. Yes, most people know him as the creator of the Spenser novels (remember the TV series with Robert Urich?) – and my pure, lover-of-all-things- mystery heart relished these compact jewels. He created the quintessential “buddy” story – his best scenes, in my opinion, were the ones with the Boston PI Spenser and the street-smart, colorful Hawk (played by Avery Brooks in the TV series) – a favorite quote describing Hawk is, “He’s big, he’s black and he’s mean.” That leaves off smart.
As a writer, I strive to create dialogue as snappy and pace-flying as Parker. He is, I’m sorry, was, the master of flying dialogue.
But to sign off here without mentioning Parker’s other works is a disservice. Check out some of his meatier texts – like All Our Yesterdays. The man could write!
So it is with a sad heart at the passing of these great writers that I post today – but I am celebrating and rejoicing in their lives. In their art. In their words.
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