Thoughts on Ray Bradbury

{I'm a little late posting about the death of Ray Bradbury because of all my travel. He passed away on June 5, 2012 and was an acclaimed American fantasy, science fiction, horror and mystery fiction writer.}

Ninth grade was the year that we first started having summer reading assignments for school. This assignment was fine by me since I read all the time anyway but it was fairly limited. I was knee deep in "Anne of Green Gables" and anything else by Lucy Maud Montgomery. In my mind I lived on Prince Edward Island.

If I remember correctly from that year, the reading list included "A Separate Peace," "Mythology" and "Fahrenheit 451" by Ray Bradbury.

The first book, "A Separate Peace," was fine. Not fabulous or anything but not a hard read. "Mythology" was like plodding through mud with flip-flops on - so difficult. And sadly I learned more about the Greek gods reading the Percy Jackson books than that book. (Sorry Mrs. Holley!)

But "Fahrenheit 451" was different. It left a mark that I still feel. It was the first book I read that actually appalled me.

Everything up to the point in my life had all been sunshine and daisies with the exception of "Bridge to Terabithia." Happy endings, true love, pretty places.

If you've never read "Fahrenheit 451," it's about a society that has banned books and firemen start fires instead of putting them out. The fuel often being the books that are confiscated.

Bradbury wrote this not as a statement for free speech or anything political like that, but to bring attention that the more the public became immersed in mass media (including television and now even social media) the less independent thought would be valued and cultivated.

Looking at it now, I can't say that he's wrong. But at the time, as I read it, I was flabbergasted. How could someone burn a book? Why would people not want to think for themselves?

And probably a bit of the curiosity I have in life and in learning can be attributed to Mr. Bradbury. I didn't want anyone to take that away from me. It was my right to be curious and to ask questions and to expect answers.

Since then, other books have left me shocked and appalled, Elie Wiesel's "Night" being the first that comes to mind about his time in a concentration camp during World War II.

But I want to tip my hat to Mr. Bradbury for challenging me to think differently. Every day.