One of the princes of science fiction, and a most valuable mentor in writing, Ray Bradbury seemed ageless. In fact, I thought he was far younger than his 91 years.
The WP has this to say.
And the New York Times obituary here.
NPR also did a review today in their update here.
I've read much of Ray Bradbury, his novels, novellas, short stories and even did a commemorative tarot deck with the Capolan's based on "Something Wicked this Way Comes," back a few years ago. I have to find the card I made because it was one I was rather fond of and even proud of at the time.
But of all Bradbury's writing, the book I cherish is the one he did on writing, "Zen in the Art of Writing." He was masterful in creating a simple formula for his daily writing, and he wrote every day. He permitted himself a free flow of imaginary by entering his cluttered but wonderful decorative workroom, pouncing on one object in the room and then...yes, writing!
When I lived in Providence (RI) during my sabbatical year from that awful B medical school, I did what Bradbury did. I had a light front room, filled with what I loved, two desks, hundreds of books, and my favourite childhood doll, a small Macintosh SE, and plenty of time. I didn't answer the phone or acknowledge the world until I wrote one thousand words. I was able to keep this up the entire year after returning from a 3 month trip across the US (circa 1992).
That year in writing is memorable. But Ray Bradbury is even more memorable and a wonderful influence to all writers, science fiction or otherwise.
Thank you, Mr. Bradbury. I'll miss your voice in my ear.