[From the stabenow.com vaults, October 27, 2008]
Aw, hell. Tony’s dead.
If you want to read a perfect first chapter, go get yourself a copy of Skinwalkers. It’s late at night, and Jim Chee is fretting in his bed because he hears a stray cat coming into his trailer through the pet door. Is he upsetting the balance of harmony in the Navajo way by feeding the cat? He gets up, and a second later a shotgun blasts through the wall of his trailer right over the bed in which he was laying. It is a gotcha moment like none other in crime fiction, and some of the best writing ever in the English language.
I had the incalculable good fortune of being on a panel with Tony Hillerman at my first Bouchercon. If I could have hated him, I would have, because it was immediately obvious that along with being a superb writer he was also a fabulous raconteur, funny, smart, the rest of us should have just passed him the microphone and shut up. I’m pretty sure the audience felt the same way.
Later that year I got a letter from some guy named Marty Greenberg, whom I’d never met and of whom I’d never heard, saying that Tony Hillerman was putting together an anthology of crime fiction short stories called The Mysterious West, and would I like to contribute a story?
Anyway, I called my agent in high dudgeon and told him about this letter that some guy had written to me taking Tony’s name in vain, and demanded that he DO something about it. “Dana,” Rich replied in a voice as dry as King Tut’s tomb, “that’s Marty Greenberg, a very reputable and well-known anthologist, and you will write back immediately and say yes.”
Oh.
We’re going to miss you, Tony. Thanks for writing all those books so we can at least drop in for a visit now and then.
Chatter Kate Shugak nooses give Skinwalkers The Mysterious West Tony Hillerman