![]() ![]() Sometime in the late 1990s I pulled “ Crossing to Safety” (1987), his affectionate, elegiac chronicle of the decades-long friendship between two literary couples, from the jumbled shelf of a vacation-rental cottage during a spell of gloomy summer weather. His writing, which includes memoir, history, biography and reportage as well as more than a dozen works of fiction, is like a vast prairie, its fertile valleys and desert patches shadowed by three mighty peaks. Given Stegner’s lifelong fascination with the American West, a landscape simile seems appropriate. Really through three identical accidents, lightning strikes that I’m only now beginning to suspect were signs. I FOUND MY WAY to Wallace Stegner by accident. ![]()
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