Well, Wolfe, I'm Not a Scholar of Your Work, But Have Always Been a Tremendous Fan. R.I.P.

When I finally exited the undergraduate strain of being assigned books and needing to fulfill course obligations, I found time to read work that seemed more intriguing to me. Actually, it was a film class with one of the craziest humans I've ever studied with, who assigned Bonfire of the Vanities to us. I was mesmerized by the story, the depth, and the detail. Of course, that man never discussed the book and it was just assigned.

That is why, upon reaching Louisville, where fellow gonzo-journalist Hunter Thompson resided once-upon-a-time, I picked up more and more of your books (not them all, but ones that intrigued me). I was fascinated by how much prose you could get to page while still maintaining my interest. When I Am Charlotte Simmons came out, I devoured it. It became one of those books that I read, loaned, and it never returned. So I bought it again, loaned it, and it never returned. I now keep two or three copies on my shelf because I know I will find a reader interested in story, sports, college life and class. I simply say, "Read this." They say, "Do you see the size of that thing?" and I respond, "You'll love every page."

They do.

I've never been one of those readers who goes ga-ga for authorial fanaticism and look to the work, rather than the writer. I caught documentaries from time to time on your eccentrics and brilliance, but I've never jumped on the bandwagon of getting into intellectual debates about your contributions to writing.

No, I simply read you. And I will continue to read you.

I hope the Great Whatever is ready for the way you interpret the afterlife and detail all its glory. I simply wish we could all read it while we're here.

Be at peace, sir. Be at peace.