Harry Crews

Great writer,inspired my own tales,Sergio

By reason of a strange combination of factors, including mere chance, I've met, interviewed, jammed with and otherwise gotten to know a fair number of luminary sorts of people in my life, but Harry Crews is the only one who ever intimidated me. He didn't do so by design or intent - it was just by reason of the walking power that was his. This was the case long before I read his book "A Childhood: The Biography of a Place," which is the single most moving piece of writing I have ever absorbed. I have some incredible stories revolving around Harry, and I intend to put them down at some point, but it isn't as if I was a best friend or shared some staggeringly important times together. It's more that the few times we were together were indelibly imprinted in my memory because of that undeniable importance that was Harry. I could never be myself around him, and more's the pity, because I think we could have been friends had I been able to rise above my stupid awe of him (which he hated, of course). His roll off a motorcycle and under a truck without dying; his writing alone, for God's sake; the life he led that didn't kill him; the fear he struck in muscle-bound idiots who ruined a get-together of mine - and I could go on. And all he was without my ever having to have gotten to know him really at all. Harry, I tried to learn the song you were trying to get me to play, but it wasn't to be. I did get to see a very gentle side of you, but I never was able to be myself around you. Never, never. I hope you get it now, if you even care, but the sorry thing is, I still care for you to care. What is that magic? And all of that aside from the incredible books - I read all but one or two. Still my favorite writer, by far. By far...

Dear Harry, all of us from English 8C at Lakeshore Junior High will remember you to the grave. Having a private reading of your short stories gave us many sleepless nights... especially the one about the guy with cancer of the lip, tongue, and epiglottis. Standing at the board with my nose in a chalk ring and failing to go the distance will stay with me forever. May God bless you if you meet him and thanks from me if you don't... I mean this with utmost respect and gratitude for the example you set as one who was willing to look into the abyss and wait for it to return the favor. Sorry we couldn't visit more while you were here. I'll look for you in the hereafter.

Had to say something: Same name, both former Marines, Not related to him, but know he's been living in the chaotic symmetry.

Semper Fi

Harry Crews-
I am now reading A Gypsy's Curse and what a story it is. I have so enjoyed your descriptions of each and every character, especially Marvin Molar. One cannot help but chuckle at his thoughts described by you. I have easily pictured every character in my head as I read because of your descriptions.

Carry on Harry Crews!

Herman Mack of Harry's best book CAR said,"I'm going to eat a car, because it's there." Harry Crews wrote about the South and its misfits " because they are there." Now cracks a noble and genous heart. May choirs of dark angels sing thee to thy rest. Your roommate from the Punic Wars, Ed Nagel

My heart has been heavy since you've been gone. You cried long ago when I mentioned I child I knew of with a serious illness, and his parents were very poor and lived out in the sticks. You said “I'll pay the goddamn bills.” You fell, and leaned on me as we walked but not very hard. I called you a bad name once when I was frustrated by your drinking, and I have always been sorry about that. You were a good man and shared so unreservedly with so many. Dearest Harry, you blessed me. My deepest sympathies to the Crews family for their great loss.

Ah, Harry, you were unforgettable. And youwere curmudgeonely until the end. The pain an torments you endured mean plenty to even those disaffiliated former students, like myself, whose career you helped to propel.
But the pain, oh Harry, you always captured the pain. And ironically, that pain has helped me and mine understand the joy in life.
And I only lament that I never had the chance to share that, through my kids, with you.

You moved me to Gainesville by your words. That is saying something. And your love of the heart spurs me on still. Best to Byron and Sally. Indeed, this is complicated.
Love,
Pat Snee
Upon sendng the manuscript of "THe Knockout Artist" to The U. of Georgia, you were, predictably, irritated and curt. And that I never lost your focus as narrator and reader, I will forever treasure.


What folks who've never done this won't get is the skill and craft to which you were ever dedicated, despite the rest.

I mourn your loos, bless your body of work, and pray some context gets people like me again within you love of narrative and irony.
I fear too much the ridicule our times may offer your work. In it I bet a serious portion of my own life, became close to you, and now must try to make amends for a relationship that never met closure--but how well you novels reflect that. But the pain, oh

don,t know if we were related, but i would have liked to meet you. R.I .P. Rick Crews