Could Richard Brautigan be my favourite author?

I have finally sorted out some of my books that I still had packed in boxes from when I moved out of London three years ago. Like a long lost treasure, I found books I forgot I had bought, and I struggled to sort through them all without stopping to read everyone – but I managed it – just!

In sorting through two boxes I found my small collection of Richard Brautigan books and put them on the small bookcase next to my bed – which was probably a bad idea – as I haven’t stopped reading them since. But that got me thinking, could the late Mr Brautigan be my favourite author?

The slamming of screen doors and dogs barking and the rattling of breakfast pots and pans and roosters crowing and people coughing and grumbling and stirring about: getting ready to start their day beat like a drum in Billy.
It was a silver early-in-the-morning drum that would lead to the various events that would comprise 13 July 1902.
The town drunk was lying face down in the middle of the main street of town. He was passed out at peace with the summer dust. His eyes were closed. There was a mile on the side of his face. A big yellow dog was sniffing at his boots and a big black dog was sniffing at the yellow dog. They were happy dogs. Both of their tails were wagging.
A screen door slammed and a man shouted so loudly that the dogs stopped their sniffing and wagging, ‘Where in the hell is my God-damn hat!’
‘On your head, you idiot!’ was the female reply.
The dogs thought about this for a moment and then they started barking at the town drunk and woke him up.

Taken from The Drum in The Hawkline Monster (A Gothic Western), and Just one of the many reason why I think ‘yes’ he could well be my favourite author…