Ray Bradbury, our favorite American author, fabulist, science fictioneer, screenwriter (John Huston‘s Moby Dick!), and all-around icon of the weird and wondrous, has passed away at the age of 91. Halloween will never quite be the same again.
We’ll pen a more lengthy eulogy soon enough, but for now, we’re re-re-re-reading The Martian Chronicles, renting Something Wicked This Way Comes, and hoping that our other favorite Ray – that’d be Bradbury’s good friend Mr. Harryhausen – isn’t planning on exiting for the land beyond beyond anytime soon. All the dinosaurs and rocket ships in the world should be draped in black crepe today.
This article appears in June 1 • 2012.