I posted a blog entry about my Lloyd Alexander encounter, and a letter that he sent me.
I was a big fan of the Chronicals of Prydain when I was a middle schooler, I introduced my friends to them, and we talked a teacher into special ordering a film strip of the ‘Book of Three’ for us to watch after school. That’s how we found out the princess’ name was pronouced ‘Eye-Lon-We’. We had been calling her ‘Princess Ell-In-Owie’.
We were in South Dakota, and we were 7th graders, what did we know from Welsh Legends?
Thank You Mr. Alexander, for the Happy Memories. Safe Journey to the Summer Country.
I too, grew up loving the Chronicals of Prydian and knowing that in some other reality, I was that golden haired princess with the sharp tongue. (In another, of course, I was the impulsive Assistant Pig-Keeper.)
Did anyone else notice that his wife died two weeks ago? I can’t help feeling like Taran has followed his Eilonwy to the Summer Country at last. I don’t remember the last time I cried over a celebrity’s death.
Sleep well, grower of imaginations and gatherer of tales.
Oh, damn. One of my favorite authors as a child–still one of my favorites. The Westmark books taught me about the war, and love, and the complexity of life. The Prydain books taught me about loss. His Vesper Holly books taught me about being a woman, and a daughter, and made me long to travel. He wrote so much, and so much of it was very nearly perfect. Man, I’m starting to cry over here.
As a tribute, some of my favorite books that weren’t as famous:
The First Two Lives of Lukas-Kasha
The Remarkable Journey of Prince Jen
The Marvelous Misadventures of Sebastian
The Arkadians
His books were fun, and brilliantly written. They were simple enough for kids, but contained enough depth and maturity for adults. They were YA literature at its best. They are woven into me now–Lloyd Alexander was part of the canon that shaped my very self.
Rest in peace. If I ever have children, I will be sure to buy them your books.
I know I’ve read the Prydain Cycle, but I only really remember one thing from it, 'cos it was shocking & sad. (No, I won’t tell you, it’s near the end.)
Rather, the books of his that stuck with me were The First Two Lives of Lukas-Kasha (which blew me away as a kid, & which I therefore actually sought out & reread years later), & The Cat Who Wished to Be a Man. And a story that I think was from a collection of short cat stories… something about a town that (claimed to be) all turned into cats? That was cute.
But notice, 2 weeks after his wife died. Tell the truth, it hadn’t occured to me that he was either that old or still alive–I guess, that he would live to be that old.
How odd. I thought of the Prydain books just today, for the first time in ages; this morning I was remembering Taran the Assistant Pig-Keeper, and Eilonwy (on whom I had a crush), and Caer Dallben (or was it Dallwen?), and Gwydion (whom I desperately admired), and Gurgi and Glew and the whole gang.
What were those foul, evil birdlike creatures called? Taran found an injured baby one and nursed it back to health, as I recall.
“I envy no man’s riches,” Taran said, “but I wish I had Llonio’s luck.”
Bummer. RIP, Mr. Alexander.
On edit: Helena, that’s a great story on your blog. What a cool man.
I came in here to argue that the actor who played George on Seinfeld was definitely not 83.
Now I feel like an insensitive idiot.
slinks away
Gwythaints. And he did indeed. It escaped and went back to Arawn’s service, but later served a key role in Taran’s quest - of course. 
“Fearfully and reluctantly, he began to read once more. But now his heart lifted. These pages told not only of death, but of birth as well; how the earth turns in its own time and in its own way gives back what is given to it; how things lost may be found again; and how one day ends for another to begin. He learned that the lives of men are short and filled with pain, yet each one a priceless treasure, whether it be that of a prince or a pig-keeper. And, at the last, the book taught him that while nothing was certain, all was possible.”
Just yesterday, I found out that a friend from college had passed away. I couldn’t work, so I went home and waited to hear from another friend before I went up to Baltimore to meet with mutual friends. I wanted to remember him, to laugh and talk about him.
When I was home I remembered this passage from The Foundling. I took out my copy and read the chapter that contains it, and it comforted me. It again does now.
Take care, Lloyd Alexander.
To be honest, I hadn’t even realized that he was still alive… But now, of course, learning that he’s died, I’m saddened. I don’t even know how many times I’ve read through the Prydain books… They’re right up there with The Hobbit and the Chronicles of Narnia.
There’s any number of things that could be. One of the themes which runs throughout the series is the loss of magic from the world. But would I be right in guessing that it’s Eilonwy’s wish that you’re referring to?
The part where Fflewddur burns his harp was the bit that got my Children’s Lit prof all teary-eyed.
I’ve been in touch with said prof, and he told me that Lloyd donated his entire office to BYU, including his desk, typewriter, and his Newbery medal.
I guessed it would be:
the death of Coll.
My guess, as well. And the part from which my bastardized quote above was ripped. (The original being, of course, “Sleep well, grower of turnips and gatherer of apples.”)
Now to whom will we look when the deathless hordes of Cauldron-Born assail us on all sides?
Mr. Alexander taught us that we must look to ourselves.
But I for one will miss him.
Sailboat
Jesus Christ, I got all teary-eyed just thinking about that part. I need to read those books again.
I feel a responsibility to point out that many of his freestanding works (including, if memory serves, the first two of that list and possibly the other two as well) were essentially the same book over and over, set in different cultural contexts. (And they’re quite a bit like the first book of the Prydain Cycle, though I may be misremembering that part.)
But it’s worth reading more of his works than Prydain and Westmark – I did enjoy what repetitive works he wrote, and he has a book of short stories (The Town Cat) and so-on. But the Westmark Trilogy is so perfect, even though
it contains the exact same hidden-royalty subplot as almost every other book he wrote. I suppose, like in the Prydain Cycle, the expansion to multiple volumes gives the reader more of the after-effect, instead of just the twist.