Bedevilled with demons right to the end, America’s tough-talking laureate, Prince of Letters and author of one of the greatest crime fiction titles (if not novels) of all time with TOUGH GUYS DON’T DANCE, Norman Mailer (right) died on Saturday, November 10. Quoth the New York Times: [Norman] Mailer died of acute renal failure at Mount Sinai Hospital, said J. Michael Lennon, who is also the author’s official biographer. From his classic debut novel to such masterworks of literary journalism as THE ARMIES OF THE NIGHT, the two-time Pulitzer Prize winner always got credit for insight, passion and originality. Some of his works were highly praised, some panned, but none was pronounced the Great American Novel that seemed to be his life quest from the time he soared to the top as a brash 25-year-old enfant terrible. Mailer built and nurtured an image over the years as pugnacious, streetwise and high-living. He drank, fought, smoked pot, married six times and stabbed his second wife, almost fatally, during a drunken party …Picture the scene, people. We’re somewhere Down Below, it’s warm enough to go bare-chested, and it’s Mailer in the Blue corner, Hemingway in the Red. Ding-ding, seconds out – who’s your money on?
