W. P. Kinsella, reading from Box Socials
Woke up this morning to learn that one of my literary heroes has died. W. P. Kinsella, author of Shoeless Joe, most famously, but a consistent and always entertaining writer of stories too. His collection, The Thrill of the Grass, sticks in my mind, though he had many others.
My most satisfying memory of Kinsella was seeing him read from his novel, Box Socials, at Cody’s Books in Berkeley in 1992. He was great — dry, funny, immensely clever — and I loved seeing someone I had admired for so long so close. The main thing about the evening, though, was that it was one my first dates with the woman who is now my wife. I thought I’d show her what an interesting literary chap I was, and Kinsella did not let me down. We gelled that night.
So, farewell to W. P., whom I respect even more today on hearing that he chose to die with dignity through assisted suicide, thanks to Canada’s new right-to-die law.
He died in Hope, British Columbia.
Sorry for your loss, sounds like a neat guy. My youngest Charlotte had a few charms with different words printed on them, and lost one yesterday, dropped it in the HVAC vent down a hole, and it was HOPE. Hoping that doesn’t mean more than that, on the surface. But can’t help thinking that way, you know? Bill
Well, at least Charlotte knows where she’ll always have a little HOPE tucked away … 😉
Somewhere unseen, where it belongs huh?