Ray Bradbury's Death at 91

By Douglas V. Gibbs

Two days ago, on June 5, 2012, science fiction great Ray Bradbury died at the age of 91. His most known work was Fahrenheit 451, about a future where firemen burn books.

I was a fourth grader when I was first introduced to Bradbury's incredible novels. As a writer, I fell in love with the first sentences of Fahrenheit 451. The story began with a magical array of metaphors that wove together in a beautiful dance.

"IT WAS A PLEASURE TO BURN.


"It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head, and his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next, he flicked the igniter and the house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black.  He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace, while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and lawn of the house. While the books went up in sparkling whirls and blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.


"Montag grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back by flame."

I wanted to write like that. I wanted the magic of the English language to leap off the page like Bradbury did. It was because of Ray Bradbury and Isaac Asimov that I decided I wanted to write science fiction.  I have many short stories and books that will someday be perfected, and find their way upon the pages of the bestselling list.

Someday.

Ray Bradbury, the weaver of metaphoric magic, will be missed, but his orchestras of lingual operas will remain with us as long as we are willing to read, and the firemen are held at bay with their nozzles dead in their hands.

-- Political Pistachio Conservative News and Commentary