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www.kevacho.com
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Kevin Michael Vance
Writer - Portland, Oregon
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June 05, 2013
Very few good men...
Today is the anniversary of Ray Bradbury's death. The man and his work meant a great deal to me. In my epitaph for Mr. Bradbury, I told of how I was a small boy in Montana, and what it meant to read "The Halloween Tree" for the first time. He is, with all humility, one of four men I call my masters (Joss Whedon, Peter Gabriel, and Ridley Scott are the other three). But for my part, no other man has written so many memorable and moving stories, opened so many doors into undreamed of worlds, and moved so many people with so few words. One of the main reasons I say that Bradbury is, arguably, the greatest American writer of all time is the simple fact that whether you were on Mars or in Kansas, on a rocket ship or trapped in a nightmare, living every day life or living the life of dreams, you did so with all five senses; Bradbury wrote with such an effortless ease that I could feel, taste, smell, see and hear everything he showed me. Not to mention the fact that regardless of how alien the environment or people may be they reacted like REAL human beings, with real human emotions. It is the one thing I complain about the most in some Fantasy and Science Fiction, and the reason I will put a book down only a few chapters in; the people do not act like real people.
I have always considered Mr. Bradbury as somewhat of a surrogate father, the mentor of my imagination and nightmares. I will forever treasure his stories, and know that somewhere in the universe there is a hole that was once filled by the greatest writer of my time.
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