When I first started writing with aspirations of professional publication, Ray Bradbury was one of the quiet giants who always captured my imagination. If I learned anything from him, it is that the poetry of an idea is more important than all the words used to execute it. He happened to be both an idea poet and a good writer, one of the few men of his generation who elevated science fiction and fantasy to literary levels.
Like Sherwood Anderson before him, he taught me to recognize the greatness in small things, rather than the noisy bravado of big ideas that are big only because they want to be.
I’ve read nearly everything he ever wrote, but haven’t read him in a very long time. At the very least, it’s time to dust off my copy of Dandelion Wine and revel in the cumulative greatness of his many little ideas.
Rest in peace.