Richard Brautigan stood before me at the front desk. It would be his last reading before he returned to Bolinas and blew out his brains with a gun. But nobody knew that.
In some ways, what I really did was mind the store: Lawrence Ferlinghetti in flight over Iron Mountain, Michigan, and feet on the ground on his death day.
Travis Laurence Naught and Russell Thorburn reflect on some impressionable figures we have lost over the past year and look at the work of literary icon Jack Kerouac.