Pat very much enjoyed hearing from his readers and was often moved and inspired by your comments.
As you know, Pat Conroy died on March 4, 2016. This site continues to be managed by his longtime friends and literary agents. You may join in a community of his readers by sharing your comments about Pat’s books or anything else that comes to mind in this guest book. We, the family, the agents and the friends are deeply moved by the outpouring of love you, his beloved readers, wrote here… Much gratitude to you all; Thank you.
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Thank you for patconroy.com in 2021.
I remember reading the Lords of Discipline as a teenager on a road trip during a hot summer in the back of a van. I sobbed for several days while reading that book. Beach Music is the best book I have ever read. I go back and read it every few years and I wish the story never ended. I am now reading it for probably the 7th or 8th time. I will always return to this book and am so happy to have it in first edition hardcover. My best to the Conroy family in this new year.
I love to read. I love books. It is a love passed down to me from my mother, who would have 3-4 books “going” at any point of her life. It was through her that I discovered Pat Conroy. She had a system for handing down bags of read books to me... one check on the title page meant that she’d read it, but that I should only resort to reading if there were no books left in the bag. Two checks meant worth the time and three meant read first! When she gave me the book, “Beach Music”, it not only had the valued three checks, but she wrote-“Really good” followed with three exclamation points!!!
I saved the book to read on a long plane trip to Colorado with my husband. I, like my mother, am a very fast reader. If going on a 10 day vacation, I will bring 3 books. But this book was different...Pat Conroy created something that made that book last for the entire vacation. I found, that instead of flying through a book, I would read then reread and, as with the first pages of the prologue, read a third time, think about what I’d just read and then interrupt my husband’s book to read it to him. When I finally did finish the book, as is the experience with a truly good book, I was sorry I’d finished it. So was my husband who had essentially listened to a near entire reading of the book through me.
Without belaboring more than I already have, Pat Conroy changed the way I read when I read any of his works. They are prose and fiction, but so much more. He writes in poetry and tells a story in such detail that whether funny or tragic pulls you in and makes you experience the written situation as a silent but present observer.
I wish I’d been able to tell him that I read him differently than I did other author’s works. I wish there were more of his books. So, I’ve bought “Beach Music” again. I’ve only read three sections to my husband so far. I’ve just finished the prologue.
Beach Music was bittersweet and I'm almost positive I'll feel the same about this one. Thank you Mr. Conroy for your wonderful books!
I had told him stories from Mr. Conroy’s books...the young mother with two children watching the sunset and the Moonrise, The Great Santini, My Losing Season. Now he is interested in reading more, and I told him that I would like to read them with him, but I cannot.
Two years ago I was diagnosed with glaucoma and I have had to put down my precious books... all of them... but I would, if I had a choice of some to read (not to listen to) Conroy’s would be at the top of the list... especially now that I have awakened a glimmer of interest in my son.
Then I was in the right time at the right place. Travelers Rest, SC. An book collector, Jim, who owned My Sisters Store had a first edition, signed copy of My Losing Season. I fell in love and bought it right away. My husband read it and I’m currently reading it.
My husband then mentioned that he read The Boo in elementary school and he remembered it moving him deeply as being one of his favorite reads.
It’s tough to find Pats hardcover books in print. And for good reason. Sooooo, I came across The Boo on Amazon, through a small book store. Inside it is signed. (I’m certain the seller had no idea it was signed since I got it very cheap) It reads “Welcome Lamb. The Boo.” Of course my heart wants it to be Lt Colonel Nugent Courvoisie! **Update-the website monitors confirmed it is his signature**
I will be reading all his books!
Thank you for maintaining this website! God Bless!
I miss your beautiful words, love of language, and your immense talent which cultivates a writer in all of us. Rest in perfect peace.
At the lowest point in my life, my husband had died soon after a deadly diagnosis. I questioned whether I could go on living. Of course, my children and family topped the list of reasons why I must. However, profoundly selfish, the piercing truth reminded me, "If I were dead, I'd never get to read Pat Conroy again.”
I was arrested and the Secret Service took the film from my camera. The S.S. came to a Red Hornets meeting we figured out pretty fast he didn’t belong so we made up a bunch of fake stuff we were going to do. The only real thing was Nancy had a banner wrapped around her waist. None of us got into the Coliseum.
I had two real tickets to get in but I was arrested and taken away. When we went to trial George Daily was our Attorney. He did a good job presenting our case. But the government won. We were just hippies doing the right thing. Some times you can’t do the right thing.
How wonderful that you actually worked on the cookbook from Cassandra's emailed transcriptions of Pat's handwritten work. When you mentioned that you pulled up the Word file and again laughed till you cried at the pig roast story, I remembered Pat's account of taking Nathalie Dupree's class and her describing, in between laconically issuing instructions to them, how she amassed the ingredients to cook a fabulous meal for a lover which consisted of escargot and calf testicles, her screams as she came back from going for wine to find the snails all over her kitchen and her screams drawing the two gay men who were her neighbors to her rescue until they saw the gruesome organs in her sink whereupon they ran screaming, thinking she might be the serial killer of gay men that was on the loose.
I tried to read this to my husband and could not get enough breath while laughing to read it. Dupree telling such an off-the-wall tale while critiquing their culinary skills was funny enough, but Pat's colorful account of her doing it was hysteria-inducing.
I wanted to live in Rome, I wanted to careen down a mountain road in Puglia, I wanted to sit at a patio table in Paris and see John Hemingway giving an interview at the next table. I wanted to learn to gig a flounder, to roast a whole hog in a pit in Atlanta (after seeing it stored in the bathtub of a Jewish friend because there wasn't room in the refrigerator ) and fib about being up all night to "mop and sop" it, and to plan an extraordinary wedding out of Southern Living in beautiful Beaufort, where I had once stayed in one of those Bay street mansions.
Such stories of a man living his life with so much gusto!! Took my breath away. Nemaste, Pat Conroy. You will be sorely missed.