Pat Conroy has died.
I really enjoyed his books. But I hadn't read a word of his when I met him. I had only seen the movies, Prince of Tides and Great Santini. He was coming to Sarasota for a books and author conference, and his one stipulation was that his interviewer had to have read something of his. I guess he was tired of the "Where do you get your ideas from?" and "Is your work autobiographical?" and "What do you think of Barbra Streisand?" I mean, the interviewer didn't even have to have liked Conroy's books; he just had to have read something by the man.
So, someone else interviewed him, and Conroy came to the office that day for a sit-down talk. He went around and spoke with everyone for a minute or two and was as nice as could be. That, probably more than anything, was what got me started reading him. And now I've read all of his books, even his cookbook.