Monthly Archives: January 2011

Reynolds Price was a protean man of letters: novels, plays, memoirs, essays, criticism, poetry. Just as important, he was a teacher for more than forty years.  And he was the one who gave me, when I was 20, the tools I would need to make my way as a writer.  He died on Thursday after a long and rich life. (NYTimes obit.) Last weekend I attended the Key West Literary Seminar, this year devoted to food. Before leaving I phoned Reynolds because I hadn't spoken to him in two years and a recent letter and emails had gone unanswered (which was not like him—he was an ebullient correspondent). Reynolds answered on the first ring—"Maddog, old pal," he said; he was indeed ill yet remained his jovial self, ...

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