This time it is not about the book.
Reading the memoirs of Isaac Asimov, and knowing him has in a way shown a portion of me to myself, and has enabled me etch out a better me in his image.
I haven’t read any other works of Isaac Asimov and might not want to read any of his works of Science fiction even in future. His memoirs are simple chronicles of an avid writer, and what he wrote is not of consequence to me, for he wrote what he wanted to write and as a natural law anything done passionately would make the world stop, recognise and acknowledge. Further, I love reading memoirs, and I, Asimov must be one of the best autobiographies ever written.
The few pages I read from his memoirs daily were as if I were sitting with a senior but amicable friend, who was in the most entertaining manner narrating his story, for me to listen and drown into his life.
It was quite emotional towards the end of the book – like him, I too did not expect that The Asimov could die, but now the detachment of not having to listen to his story in his own words is also bothering.
I miss Asimov.
Isaac Asimov apart from being this genius, encyclopedic person, was a simple man who was mad about only two things in his life – writing, and his love – Janet. And that is so much what I aspire to be. Write and be madly in love.
Asimov was also an influential speaker, and a portion of his career he taught biochemistry and would go on to be the best lecturer. He was columnist in many magazines, newspapers and not to mention about 480 books he had published in his lifetime.
Seeking inspiration from a role model like Asimov and the pursuit of these traits in me will hopefully make me satisfied of the life I will go on to live.