A few friends mentioned to me over the last couple of days that they were surprised that I’ve made no mention on the passing of Tom Clancy, who is one of my all-time favorite writers. Truth be told, I did start a couple postings about his death but each time I discarded it because the words really weren’t coming in a way that I’d liked. After a couple paragraphs it would sound like I though he was some god-like persona who was the greatest writer ever or that I was so distraught that I could never go on. Both, as you may have guessed, are far from the truth.
Clancy was a very good writer who wrote some of the best action/thrillers of the last thirty years or so. But he was no Hemmingway, Twain, nor Dickens. He was simply a good author of good books who will be missed by his readers.
By all accounts Clancy was more than a little full of himself, and that was OK. That sort of arrogance drove him to write better stories and to take on other venues that authors traditionally didn’t venture in to. Those other opportunities were one of the reasons Clancy took a seven year break from publishing novels. Between 2003’s The Teeth of the Tiger and Dead or Alive (with Grant Blackwood) in 2010 fans learned to live without Clancy mashing out a novel every couple years or so. With Command Authority coming out in December readers will have to face again the likelihood of no more Clancy stories.