Clyde Rice

Whenever I need to be reminded how it's done, I go back and I reread this book.  What I love about Clyde Rice is that he didn't start writing until he was in his 80's, after knocking about the Pacific Northwest for a lifetime.  But, sentence by sentence, he packs more power than almost anyone I've ever read.  This is his first book, an autobiography about his years growing up in Oregon during the Depression.

If you know who Jim Tully is, he's sort of like that but with the poetry of Steinbeck thrown in to temper the harder edges.

All of his books were published by small presses and have been read by very few.  I feel very fortunate to be one of those few.  I stumbled on this one in a Portland bookstore about twenty-five years ago.

If you want to read writing with the bark on, as they say, look up Clyde Rice.  He only wrote three books, but they're gems.  He wrote the last one NORDI'S GIFT, after multiple strokes had nearly paralyzed his hand, but he still managed to wield a pen.  A very powerful pen.  I reread him often--a great American writer who's been dead about twenty years now.

Giyup, pards!

Mean Pete