Ray Bradbury: Big talent on a small planet

There are a handful of books that I return to after another of life's transitions, and I've begun the path of a new journey. Ray Bradbury wrote two of these books, Dandelion Wine and The Martian Chronicles.  One lazily spins the tale of innocence and youth; the other is slap at mankind's follies and the nobility of his dreams. Long after their publications, many mainstream critics have backhanded both books as both excessively sentimental and lacking the elegant sophistication of a Philip K. Dick. They, of course, miss the forest while dissecting a blade of grass. Bradbury wrote for the reader and for himself, the most dangerous route any author can take.  In reading his works, we can often glimpse Bradbury himself, breaking that "fourth wall" and whispering to us that this moment, this emotion, this discovery is vital, rich and joyful. Here are the first paragraphs of Dandelion Wine.  Bradbury needed just eleven sentences to create a lyrical tapestry for the...(Read Full Post)