RIP Dick Francis
My Mom and my sister had been telling me for years to read Dick Francis's book and I ignored them. Why would i want to read mysteries set in the horse racing world? They just sounded boring to me and not something i would like. My brother and I were on the same page, fighting them off on this particular book front.
Until that fateful summer night of 1979 or so. I had completely run out of anything to read, I didn't see anything I wanted to read and it was late on a Sunday night, so I couldn't go to the library or bookstore. So I picked up one the several Francis book that we had lying around the house. Mr Francis, I'm sorry it took me so long to read your books. I'm sorry I made fun of my Mom and sister for reading them and I'm sorry I made disparaging comments without having read any of them. All I can say is that I made up for lost time that summer by reading every one I could get my hands on and then forcing my brother to do the same. The best things about his books was his ability to bring the reader into the horse world-but he also had a tremendous ability to draw the reader into the inner world of the main character. His main characters, always a decent sort of guy, are invariably beaten or tortured in some way, had some wrong done to them, or need to set straight some wrong and Francis's ability to bring about a satisfying conclusion may be the best parts of his books. Thank you for all the good times you gave me Mr Francis. I'm sorry I was so stubborn about it it the start, but I like to think I more than made up for it.
