This is a red-letter day on my literary calendar, just so’s you know.

Samuel Beckett was born on this day.

Wallace Stegner died on this day.

Two of the big lights in 20th century literature.

Beckett is probably more influential than Stegner, when it comes right down to it. His work has enjoyed (and I contend that it will continue to enjoy) a resonance throughout cultures. He’ll last longer than Shakespeare.

Stegner was undoubtedly the better writer, at least of prose. I don’t know where he fits in the pantheon of American Lit, but whenever I see “Pulitzer Prize Winner” on the dustcover of some flavor-of-the-month book, I read the first couple of pages and set it down with a sigh. Stegner had the same words as everyone else, but he somehow did more with them.

So.

Have a Good Friday.