Misanthropy

Lloyd Alexander died yesterday, May 17, at the age of 83. He was one of my absolute favorite authors, and The Prydain Chronicles are books that are so seeped in my psyche, that I'm sure I have no idea just how much they influence me. I was an incorrigible re-reader as a kid, and I've read those books (as well as others he penned, most especially The Marvelous Misadventures of Sebastian and The First Two Lives of Lucas-Kasha) literally countless times and more times than any other books in my life. When the essay for my undergrad school asked applicants to discuss a book that influenced them, there really not much of a question that I would be discussing Lloyd Alexander's works. To this day, when horror is such a jaded thing, the memory of reading the description of the Horned King at the beginning of The Book of Three still gives me chills.

All things are mortal, but books can live on for far longer than their authors. I'd like to think that a little bit of the spirit of their creator resides on in all of us who made Alexander's books such a huge part of our childhood landscape.