Thursday, October 03, 2013

ululate!

Tom Clancy has died. He was 66.

Although he was a prolific author, I can't say that I read more than one of his books: The Hunt for Red October. The prose struck me as rather dry and technically correct; the novel wasn't the most gripping or witty prose I had ever encountered. I also thought the 1984 adventure was a rip-off of the 1977 Firefox by Craig Thomas; both stories involve the theft of Russian stealth technology. It may simply be that I have no sea legs when it comes to dead-tree spy thrillers; I like espionage films well enough, but my reading tends more toward old-school science fiction (Niven, Asimov, Heinlein) and fantasy (Donaldson, Tolkien). Still, there's no denying that Clancy had a rabid following, and the man was obviously a genius when it came to business: he ended up branching out into video games, and according to some reports, he was roughly a 300-millionaire by the end of his short life. My condolences go out to Clancy's friends and family; the man might not have been my kind of writer, but he was a man all the same, worthy of some witness to his passing.


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4 comments:

  1. Funny that you mention Tolkien. I was at a bookstore today and saw he has a new book out (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fall_of_Arthur). Zelezny had similar longevity as the author of new books after he died. I wonder how many new ones will come from Clancy.

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  2. Interesting thought. Some authors, like that fabled road in Tolkien's opus, go ever on and on.

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  3. Funny that you should say that 'The Hunt for Red October' was like 'Firefox'. When 'Hunt' came out I was working in an electronics firm in California that made transponders--and if you read the book you know that they are basically the signposts in the ocean.

    This made the book especially interesting to me and my co-workers.

    Clancy was too young to die. Sixty-six is just not old. :(

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  4. I read quite a bit of Clancy when I was younger, and I just so happened to be reading through his stuff again on my Kindle. I finished Patriot Games last night on the train.

    I will agree that he was perhaps not the best of writers, technically speaking, but he knew how to weave a yarn, and he knew the stuff he wrote about. Strangely enough, what sticks out to me most now, reading his books again after about twenty years, is how embarrassingly patriotic--almost jingoistic at times--they sound. The man loved his country, though, and thought America was indeed exceptional. He will be missed.

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