Bradbury: We are an impossibility.by Ooomami
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ABOUT THE ART
Ray Bradbury was like an uncle in my household. My dad and I read many books together, but I can't remember an author we have talked about more than Ray Bradbury. He read me The Martian Chronicles when I was 8 or 9, and I was a fan.
I reread Bradbury's stories like some people read the Bible. The ears of my collections of his stories are soft on the pages of my favorite passages, and I often slip out of the bedroom when I'm having trouble sleeping to read a few paragraphs on the couch. They always give me something to think about.
Ray Bradbury is my favorite author not because he had prescient ideas about the future, a lá Asimov or Clarke, but because he artfully crafted his stories to create a primal sense of mood. Ray Bradbury leaves me feeling like I didn't just read a story -- I somehow saw into another universe for a moment. When I read about a spectre appearing on a dewy lawn in the middle of a humid summer night, I feel the tickle of those heavy, dark nights in August in the prairie. I know the sensation of being in the center of a small pool cast by streetlights on those nights, when you can hear everything in the neighborhood, but you can't what's happening beyond the dark border made by the light bulb.
I wasn't exactly shocked when 91-year old Bradbury died. Because he was NINETY-ONE and he has been in my celebrity death pool since 2004. But we got to have him for so long: Ray Bradbury was lucky to work until late into his life. I know it was important, because he said: "You must stay drunk on writing, so that reality cannot destroy you." I know that feel, bro.