I like writers who can punch you in the face and then get in your heart and dance around a little bit. This is what Harry Crews was able to do when he sat at his old typewriter. Though a lot of his battered and tormented life was spent in a whiskey haze, he was still able to dig up some beautifully twisted prose that cast light onto the misfits, the weirdos and the broken.
He once said it was the writer’s job “to get naked, to hide nothing. To look away from nothing. To look at it. To not blink… Strip it down and lets get down to where the blood is, the bone is. Instead of hiding it with clothes and all kinds of other stuff, luxury!” Harry Crews would have been 81 today, and luckily his work is finding more and more readers who are just now discovering how much of a badass he really was.