There are no words to express how I felt yesterday morning when I read of the passing of Brian Jacques over the weekend. He was, and remains, one of my favorite authors; his books consistently ranked among my favorites, a list that changed much over the years. Shock did not begin to describe how I felt, nor sorrow. How can you describe adequately the death of someone you never met, someone who nonetheless had such an impact on one's life that it was almost like losing a beloved member of the family?
I was introduced to Brian Jacques' work when I was in sixth grade when my grandmother gave me a copy of Pearls of Lutra for my birthday, thinking that it seemed like the kind of book I read. I don't recall enough of what I actually read to say whether it was true or not, but I remember how I thought she was mistaken, that I didn't read the sort of book where animals were main characters. If it was a mistake, it was one of the happiest mistakes of my life! Upon reading Lutra, I was immediately entranced by the series and delighted to find that Jacques had written many more books. I went on to Marlfox next and loved it just as much as the first, following quickly with Legend of Luke. I recall well my impression of the fine storytelling, a plot full of action, quests, feasting, solving of riddles and singing of songs in which good and evil were clearly defined. It is an old plot line, to be sure, but in the deft hands of Brian Jacques it never grew old in all of its different manifestations. I went on to read all of his Redwall series, re-reading a number of the volumes multiple times. It was something I kept to even after all of these years, all through five years of high school and five years of college. I watched the series when both Redwall and Mattimeo (followed by an adaptation of Martin the Warrior) were presented on PBS; I remember rushing home on bike Sunday afternoons or evenings after church to make sure that I caught it, how I recorded every episode and still have them. Though at least two volumes disappointed in that they were not up to his usual caliber, Jacques re-emerged strong with High Rhulain, Rakkety Tam, and Doomwyte.
It was more than just the fine telling of tales that was a hallmark of Jacques. His work became intertwined with my own life; the Redwall series was my introduction to the entire genre of fantasy. From Jacques I moved on to Tolkien, Jordan, Gemmell and Goodkind, among many others. With the passing of my grandmother the books became symbols of her importance in my life, and of the very serendipity that led me to become a life-long reader of fantasy.
I have taken to heart Jacques' advice on writing, his admonition to "Paint pictures with words." It is something that I try to apply to my own writing, and in a small way his love and descriptions of characters feasting has bled into my own stories. Strange to owe such an incalculable debt of gratitude to a man I never had the pleasure of meeting face to face. Yet I feel like I knew him nonetheless through his introductions to each segment of the Redwall television series, the interviews he conducted, the questions that he answered on the Redwall website. His humor and love of life were apparent in every aspect, a gregarious man who was in many ways larger than life.
The usual joy of purchasing and reading the newest installment in the series will continue once more with the release of The Rogue Crew in early May, but the knowledge that this is the very last time that I and so many other readers will have makes the experience a joy tinged with sadness. With due condolences to his wife and two sons, who are surely feeling this loss keenly, I tip my hat to the man who first invited us to come along with him to Mossflower Country and always bid us that Redwall Abbey was open to all good creatures at any time.
The world has truly grown darker with his passing.
I was introduced to Brian Jacques' work when I was in sixth grade when my grandmother gave me a copy of Pearls of Lutra for my birthday, thinking that it seemed like the kind of book I read. I don't recall enough of what I actually read to say whether it was true or not, but I remember how I thought she was mistaken, that I didn't read the sort of book where animals were main characters. If it was a mistake, it was one of the happiest mistakes of my life! Upon reading Lutra, I was immediately entranced by the series and delighted to find that Jacques had written many more books. I went on to Marlfox next and loved it just as much as the first, following quickly with Legend of Luke. I recall well my impression of the fine storytelling, a plot full of action, quests, feasting, solving of riddles and singing of songs in which good and evil were clearly defined. It is an old plot line, to be sure, but in the deft hands of Brian Jacques it never grew old in all of its different manifestations. I went on to read all of his Redwall series, re-reading a number of the volumes multiple times. It was something I kept to even after all of these years, all through five years of high school and five years of college. I watched the series when both Redwall and Mattimeo (followed by an adaptation of Martin the Warrior) were presented on PBS; I remember rushing home on bike Sunday afternoons or evenings after church to make sure that I caught it, how I recorded every episode and still have them. Though at least two volumes disappointed in that they were not up to his usual caliber, Jacques re-emerged strong with High Rhulain, Rakkety Tam, and Doomwyte.
It was more than just the fine telling of tales that was a hallmark of Jacques. His work became intertwined with my own life; the Redwall series was my introduction to the entire genre of fantasy. From Jacques I moved on to Tolkien, Jordan, Gemmell and Goodkind, among many others. With the passing of my grandmother the books became symbols of her importance in my life, and of the very serendipity that led me to become a life-long reader of fantasy.
I have taken to heart Jacques' advice on writing, his admonition to "Paint pictures with words." It is something that I try to apply to my own writing, and in a small way his love and descriptions of characters feasting has bled into my own stories. Strange to owe such an incalculable debt of gratitude to a man I never had the pleasure of meeting face to face. Yet I feel like I knew him nonetheless through his introductions to each segment of the Redwall television series, the interviews he conducted, the questions that he answered on the Redwall website. His humor and love of life were apparent in every aspect, a gregarious man who was in many ways larger than life.
The usual joy of purchasing and reading the newest installment in the series will continue once more with the release of The Rogue Crew in early May, but the knowledge that this is the very last time that I and so many other readers will have makes the experience a joy tinged with sadness. With due condolences to his wife and two sons, who are surely feeling this loss keenly, I tip my hat to the man who first invited us to come along with him to Mossflower Country and always bid us that Redwall Abbey was open to all good creatures at any time.
The world has truly grown darker with his passing.
Very nice, Mr. Clemens. You may have just convinced me to take a look at this series.
ReplyDeleteI do believe you will get me to look into his work. You're a fine praise-singer, Brady.
ReplyDelete