I remember when I was 13, the time I flipped through the first page of Dandelion Wine. I remember being struck with wonder at the stories, how transfixed I was with the seemingly magical world I was reading. I remember looking up other works by this American writer. I remember Something Wicked This Way Comes, another favorite.
Farewell Summer, Dandelion Wine's supposed sequel, wasn't as good as the first. Still, it was an enjoyable read nonetheless. I remember not being disappointed by it.You just know that Ray Bradbury is a damn good writer despite his being prolific. There's a certain charm to all his works, an evenness that can make other writers seem amateurish.
I seldom feel this affected upon hearing the death of a writer. But when I read the news about Ray Bradbury's death, it felt surreal. It seems that I was expecting this man of letters to be with us through all our days, churning out fantastic pieces of fiction from generation to generation. But something wicked did come our way and took him away from us.
I will be forever grateful for all of Ray Bradbury's fiction. He brought magic, thrill, and wonder in our prosaic world. So thank you, Mr. Ray Bradbury. We will remember.