And now we’ve lost Arthur C. Clarke.
As a lad, I read 2001: A Space Odyssey in a single day. I just holed up in my bedroom one Saturday, and didn’t come out until I was done. I simply had to know what it was all about. I had heard so much praise about it and the movie. This was one of the rare occasions where the hype was fully justified.
Even so, Childhood’s End is probably my favorite of his works. Just fantastic. I first read it in high school, and I must have reread it at least a dozen times. It was a book that grew as I grew.
(Some trivia: Ever seen Fast Times at Ridgemont High? In one brief scene, one of the geeky students is being hustled by one of the “cool” guys. What does the geeky kid have in his hand? A paperback copy of Childhood’s End, easily recognizable from the cover art. I own the same edition.)
Among his many gifts, Clarke had the uncanny ability to make the science in his SF entertaining and engaging. You learned stuff while reading him, but you never once felt he was bogging the story down with infodump. Many lesser writers have attempted to do the same and failed. Me, I don’t even bother trying. A man’s got to know his limitations.
Goodbye, Sir Arthur. And thanks.
