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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wrote on July 2, 2019
"Pat. I'm sorry to have never known you. I feel as if I did."
I was born the same year as Pat and knew of him at the beginning of his career, reading "The Water is Wide" upon publication and then reading "The Boo". I knew a Citadel classmate of his in Pensacola in 1968 when he and my husband were training to fly helicopters in Viet Nam.
As time passed, I systematically waited for each new book with baited breath as I shared the Marine Corps, teaching, and writing with Pat. It took me a lot longer to become an author and I shall never possess the gift of painting lovely visuals with my words as did he, the master of the art.
I had the pleasure of meeting Cassandra and sharing a luncheon table with her at a writers' conference about a year before Pat's death. Hope was still alive that I would one day meet the great man, too.
Alas, I did not, but I did travel to the low-country cemetery along dirt roads to view his simple grave within a rusted wire fence enclosure. His SC soil-covered grave was covered with seashells from the waters he so loved. A loving touch -- perhaps from the children whose lives meant so much to him.
Lord, Pat. I miss you.
I was born the same year as Pat and knew of him at the beginning of his career, reading "The Water is Wide" upon publication and then reading "The Boo". I knew a Citadel classmate of his in Pensacola in 1968 when he and my husband were training to fly helicopters in Viet Nam.
As time passed, I systematically waited for each new book with baited breath as I shared the Marine Corps, teaching, and writing with Pat. It took me a lot longer to become an author and I shall never possess the gift of painting lovely visuals with my words as did he, the master of the art.
I had the pleasure of meeting Cassandra and sharing a luncheon table with her at a writers' conference about a year before Pat's death. Hope was still alive that I would one day meet the great man, too.
Alas, I did not, but I did travel to the low-country cemetery along dirt roads to view his simple grave within a rusted wire fence enclosure. His SC soil-covered grave was covered with seashells from the waters he so loved. A loving touch -- perhaps from the children whose lives meant so much to him.
Lord, Pat. I miss you.
Agency Reply:
Thank you Lyla, this is so moving.