Today, I got my copy of "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" in the mail. I found the time to sit down and read the title story, and wow . . . just wow.
The man had an incredible economy of word. And while the topic of the title story was an unhappy one, I didn't get the book for light reading. Of course, he wasn't a genre writer and currently I am, but that doesn't mean there isn't anything to be learned by reading him.
I'll spend more time over the weekend with some of his stories, but I'm going to have to split that with the time I plan on spending with Sheridan. You have to live life too, if you're going to write about it.
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