Jim Harrison: Dead at 78

Jim Harrison

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Margalit Fox reports that "Jim Harrison, Poet, Novelist and Essayist, Is Dead at 78" (NYT, March 27, 2016):

Jim Harrison, whose lust for life -- and sometimes just plain lust -- roared into print in a vast, celebrated body of fiction, poetry and essays that with ardent abandon explored the natural world, the life of the mind and the pleasures of the flesh, died on Saturday at his home in Patagonia, Ariz. He was 78.

All that energy bound up in one man, yet I was largely untouched by his many books, though I was touched -- or, rather, brushed -- by Legends of the Fall, which I knew of solely through the film adaptation, and I didn't even understand that very well, possibly because I am pretty sure I saw it only in German.

Now that he's dead, maybe I should read him for his insight into life, his observations on his explorations, if only for his unique perspective, for he observed the world without benefit of binocular vision:

When Jim was 7, . . . a neighborhood girl ended a quarrel by thrusting a broken bottle into his face, permanently blinding his left eye. For years afterward, he sought solace alone in the woods.

Blinded in one eye, like Odin, but did he gain any wisdom in the loss? As implied above, I suppose I'd need to read him to find out . . .