I just heard from one of my Goodreads groups: Ray Bradbury is gone. He has been a part of my life since my early adulthood. I loved everything of his I read, scary or funny or exciting. I remember reading Something Wicked This Way Comes in an evening and, apart from the wonderful atmosphere of brooding, I loved that the town was saved by the librarian! And that is appropriate, since in recent years he was a great defender of libraries against the idiots who wanted to close them down.
A few years ago, I found a more recent book of his which was set in 1950s Hollywood, with a character who was obviously meant to be Ray Harryhausen, who is a close friend. It started at midnight, in a cemetery, on Halloween, but wasn't a horror story. It was a mystery.
He wrote so much over the years, novels as well as short fiction, but I liked the short fiction best. And among all those atmospheric stories there were the funny ones, such as The Family, which included such characters as Uncle Einar with the green wings, whose wife uses him to fly up and dry the washing.
I loved the way his landscape was a character, adding to the atmosphere and flavour.
Only recently I got a boxed set of Ray Harryhausen movies and among the extras was a bio that included interviews with the two friends, who met when they were in their late teens. They promised each other NEVER to grow up. I guess they kept their promise.
There will be plenty of tributes to him over the next few days and when I get my act together I will add a proper one. Meanwhile, rest well, Ray. We'll miss you.