Mourning Authors

It's always depressing when I find out another one of my favorite authors have died. I remember when Shel Silverstein died I was sad because I would never get to read another silly poem like "Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too" or marvel at the ink drawings that always seemed just a little to bizarre for children's books.

Worse is when I discover a new favorite author and then I realize that they have been dead for awhile. For some reason I thought that Ernest Hemingway was still alive (but just really old) and so I read a bunch of his books and was wondering when he was going to come out with a new one... then I realized he had died several years ago.

I remember having the same feeling after discovering the works of Jane Austen. In order to prevent myself from the sadness that comes after realizing I've read every work by an author, I have staved off reading "Sense and Sensibility" and "Northanger Abbey". Although a few weeks ago I realized that my library has copies of the unfinished manuscripts of "Sandition", "Lady Susan" and "The Watsons", as well as a collection of letters Austen wrote throughout her lifetime and so I may have to read those at some point during my stay at college. It might seem strange to non-bibliophiles but finding those manuscripts were seriously like Christmas to me.


I guess what brought all of this reminiscing about is because I just realized that Michael Crichton died this month and I somehow managed to miss it among all of the election hullaballo. I first read Jurassic Park when I was in 5th grade, mainly because it was worth 30 Accelerated Reader Points and because I enjoyed the movies so I thought the book would be better. I remember struggling to get through the book but once I finished I realized that I loved science fiction novels.

Luckily for me, I still have not read some of his newer works like "Prey" or "State if Fear". Also, there is talk of a book being published posthumously. Hopefully over winter break I will have some time to sit down and read some Michael Crichton and reflect on how the literary community has lost one more great author.