Ray Bradbury

Thanks to Jacket Copy for pointing to this video in their “Happy birthday Ray Bradbury!” post yesterday.

Amazing to think of an SF author doing a TV commercial. I guess the contemporary equivalent might be Stephen King doing one, although he did do American Express in the 80s:

Near to it might be this awesome M. Night Shyamalan AmEx ad from a few years ago:

Which reminds me to link to the funny Wes Anderson version:

One year ago today, I wished Ray Bradbury (along with Dorothy Parker) a Happy Birthday. On October 2nd last year, Ray went to San Bernardino to speak to fans of his work at an event organized by the San Bernardino Public Library. It was originally going to be at the Feldheym Central Library downtown, but due to high demand wound up being moved to the Sturges Center for the Fine Arts down the road.

I managed to score a stand-by ticket, meaning I might or might not get in, depending on available seating. So I went to the theater, not knowing whether I’d get in, although any overflow would still be able to watch the event on projected television outside.

Dozens, seemingly hundreds of people queued up and went inside while I and others in the stand-by line stood by.

But luck was with me. I got inside. After brief remarks by various functionaries (including, if I recall, the mayor of San Bernardino). Soon enough, Mr. Bradbury came out, the lights dimmed, and he began telling stories.

The talk was the culmination of a community reading of Fahrenheit 451, a favorite of librarians and readers for over 50 years now (and yours truly for that matter), so he spoke of writing the book, of becoming a writer, of creativity. Much of what he talked about I remember reading in various books of his, but to hear it from him in person, not to mention witnessing other people hearing him, was truly a magical experience.

It had been announced that Mr. Bradbury would be signing autographs for whomever wished it, for as long as he could. Given his infirmity and age, I was frankly surprised he was going to attempt it at all.

Since virtually the entire auditorium wished it, two great queues of people formed going down both aisles of the theater; they got things a bit organized, taking a handful of people from each line, alternating back and forth. So there was this slow advancement, as the crowds watched the lucky ones at the beginning get their copies of 451 signed.

It took a long time to get to the front of the auditorium, then around to the side and up to the stage. Over the next hour or so, I texted Denyse a few times to update her on the progress.

As I finally got closer I could hear fans telling Mr. Bradbury various things as he signed, getting photographs with him. He took the time to acknowledge every one of them, especially the kids, shaking hands, replying graciously, and always signing, signing, signing. Scores of people went before me, but he was still going strong by the time I reached the stage.

I’d been running over and over in my head, anxious as can be, what I wanted to say to him.

It isn’t every day you meet one of your heroes. What are you supposed to say?

How are you supposed to encapsulate decades of joy and profound influence into 15 seconds of prattle? How do you summarize how much he influenced you, both to become a writer and to keep writing?

I handed my copy of Dandelion Wine to the attendant (in my nervous haste to get there, the only volume among the several of his books I own that I could find) and snapped the above picture. I told him hello, which he returned as he smoothed the book out to sign.

What did I say to him as we shook hands afterwards?

“Thank you so much, sir, for everything.”

He brought his other hand on top of mine, “Thank you,” he said with heartfelt emotion. “Thank you.”

As I left the theater, he was still at it with dozens of people waiting their turn.

I’ll bet he got through every last one of them.

Ever since, I had intended to pick out a few of the pictures, write a few things, and post this very entry. But whenever I came to do it, I just couldn’t. I’m not sure why.

I think it was a version of that sense of profundity I mentioned earlier. The moment was too special to grasp quite yet. Months passed.

Then on my calendar this week I noticed it was again Mr. Bradbury’s (and Mrs. Parker’s) birthday on the 22nd. A perfect moment.

So, on this August 22nd, Happy Birthday to Ray Bradbury!

Thank you so much, sir, for everything.

LA Times: “Salman Rushdie in L.A.”

During a few hours he spent near the Kings Road apartment he once shared with model and actress Padma Lakshmi, Rushdie did not come across as either a distinguished literary figure — Rushdie’s swirling 1981 Booker-winner, “Midnight’s Children,” is arguably the greatest British novel of the last few decades, and he was recently knighted — or a man who’d once had a price on his head. He was more like a good-humored, slightly star-struck visitor to L.A., happy to be back among old haunts.

He also enjoyed being in a place where the paparazzi are distracted by more glamorous figures. “Here, there’s Hollywood,” he said, a balding man with wire glasses and a Cheshire cat grin. “You know, they want Lindsay Lohan — they don’t want me.”

Speaking of Rushdie, he was on the Colbert Report earlier this month:

Ray Bradbury visited the closing Acres of Books in Long Beach

“Libraries are better than schools. You can’t go to a University and get a diploma. It doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. You’ve got to go to a bookstore and a library and educate yourself. You go to a bookstore and find yourself. The surprises that you find on the shelves are you, represent the things that you need, not that the teachers need…”

(via L.A. Now)

I still haven’t posted about my getting to meet him last year at an event in San Berdoo — ASAP. Speaking of Bradbury, Redlands has chosen Fahrenheit 451 as the 2009 choice for their citywide book reading program.

LA Times Jacket Copy: “John Muir, nature man of Yosemite”

The man who championed protecting natural spaces — especially in what is now Yosemite National Park — was born in Scotland, moved as a boy to Wisconsin and later hiked from Kentucky to south Florida; there, he got sick and headed to California to recuperate. Once he found the wilds of Northern California in 1868, he was smitten. He climbed rocks, cursed the sharp hooves of sheep that tore up wildflowers and even snuck President Teddy Roosevelt away from his handlers and into the backcountry for three nights of camping.

He also wrote like a fiend.

And if your fiendishness is lacking at any given moment, check out this big Think Simple Now article to take care of the problem: “Connect with Your Creative Writer”:

Although, the term writers block is popular, this feeling of blockage and mind blanking is not specific to writing, but of any creative feats. Other examples include, brainstorming for a new business, dancing, musical performances, music composition, painting or photography. I’ve personally experienced this during my photography work, blanking out as I stand in front of a client waiting for me for direction. I call these Creative Blocks, where your mind just comes up empty and you feel lost. It’s purely mental.

Through practice and observation, I’ve gotten pretty good at getting past these blank moments, and this article shares some insights for unlocking your creativity. Throughout the article, I will be using writing as the example, but keep in mind that it is equally applicable to any creative activity.

Happy Birthday to a couple of my very favorite writers!

Dorothy Parker was born on this day in 1893, and while she is most remembered for her days with the Round Table in New York, she spent a number of years in Hollywood as a screenwriter (IMDB). She passed away in 1967.

I’m never going to accomplish anything; that’s perfectly clear to me. I’m never going to be famous. My name will never be writ large on the roster of Those Who Do Things. I don’t do anything. Not one single thing. I used to bite my nails, but I don’t even do that any more.

And yes, you might as well live.

Ray Bradbury, also born on 8/22, but in 1920. (Funny to think of Mrs Parker at 27 when he was born, being fired by Vanity Fair for offending people.) A while back I wrote about Ray:

[He] is the ghost in the machine. He finds the soul in the rocket, traces the life in the Martian colony, points out the demons lurking in the fires of a burning book.

Always one to tweak the nose of too-serious folks, Ray has recently been talking about what Fahrenheit 451 really means. Some people have gotten a little pissy about it, which says more about them than Bradbury. And that’s kind of the point.

Living nearly a century and writing some of the best literature in the world gives you a smidgen of latitude. ;)

Thanks to Jeffrey Carver over at Pushing a Snake Up a Hill for pointing to this story, about one of my very favorite writers receiving an award: “Ray Bradbury to receive Pulitzer citation”

The winners of the 91st annual Pulitzer Prizes were announced on Monday, April 16, 2007.

The Pulitzer Board announced a special citation to Ray Bradbury for his distinguished, prolific and deeply influential career as an unmatched author of science fiction and fantasy. This special recognition is not a Pulitzer Prize, but is a recognition of life achievement. A citation was also given posthumously to tenor saxophonist John Coltrane.

The awards luncheon is next week. Congratulations, Mr. Bradbury!