Last Monday, I got to meet Charles de Lint, a writer whose work I have long admired, when he came to dinner at my parents' home. He had been there before that day, but not on a day when I had.

My father's profession, writing mostly fantasy, brings him into acquaintances and friendships with some people whom I'd like to meet, or to have met. De Lint had been highest on that list.

Tags: Charles de Lint

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