In his fiction and in his life, Harry Crews empathized most with the people who needed it most: the freaks, the fuck-ups, people who’d been broken by loss of one kind or another. Crews died on Wednesday, at age 76. As his son Byron told The Daily’s Claire Howorth, “[he] put more miles on the Chevy than most of us.” Crews was my teacher once. Today I wrote about him for The Awl.
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Damn, Harry Crews died?? This happened on the 29th, but I’ve been out of the loop in one aspect…and yet in another way...
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