As I grow older, I have more frequent cause to think of a quote from the Oscar-winning movie Harry and Tonto. It’s from Harry Coombes, who was played by the truly immortal Art Carney: “You never really feel somebody’s suffering; you only feel their death.”
Right now I’m feeling the death of Vince Flynn, one of our era’s top thriller authors and a terrific guy who passed away in the first hours of June 19, 2013. I first met Vince at ThrillerFest in New York several years ago, where he very graciously signed and personalized several of his books for my son Michael, who is a major fan of his. Vince was an easy guy to talk to, a skill he undoubtedly acquired in his prior vocational lives as a bartender and a commercial real estate agent. I never bought a drink or leased an office from him, but I did read every one of his books. From first to last, beginning to end, they were...well, I could run out of adjectives. Let’s start with riveting and thrilling, and go on to addicting, to name but three.
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