Brautigan > American Dust
Richard Brautigan (1935-1984) was an American writer noted for his idiosyncratic yet easy-to-read prose style. Most popular during the late 1960s to early 1970s, Brautigan continues to attract readers. LEARN more.
Curated, comprehensive information about Richard Brautigan's life, his novels, his poetry, his stories, his collected works, his recordings, his non-fiction writings, and poetic drawings. Also an extensive bibliography.
Information and resources, background, publication, reviews and criticism for each Brautigan novel. LEARN more.
Information and resources, publication, reviews and criticism for Brautigan's poetry. LEARN more.
Stories that read more like poetry than fiction. Exquisite little gems of imaginative writing. LEARN more.
One set of collected works was published during Brautigan's lifetime. Three others after his death. LEARN more.
Essays, reviews, blurbs, letters, and papers. These non-fiction writings read like Brautigan's prose and poetry. LEARN more.
Brautigan reads poems, stories, and chapters from novels on his record album Listening to Richard Brautigan. LEARN more.
Indexes for all publications containing Brautigan writings, recordings, reviews, and translations. LEARN more.
Brautigan was fascinated with movies. He wrote two screenplays and participated in movies. LEARN more.
Brautigan taught writing courses and participated in educational seminars and conferences. LEARN more.
He wore a costume of trout fishing in America. He wore mountains on his elbows and bluejays on the collar of his shirt. Deep water flowed through the lilies that were entwined about his shoelaces. A bullfrog kept croaking in his watch pocket and the air was filled with the sweet smell of ripe blackberry bushes.
— Trout Fishing in America
This is a beautiful library, timed perfectly, lush and American. The hour is midnight and the library is deep and carried like a dreaming child into the darkness of these pages.
— The Abortion
First, the good news: I found out that I was 4F and wasn't going off to World War II to be a soldier boy. I didn't feel unpatriotic at all because I had fought my World War II five years before in Spain and had a couple of bullet holes in my ass to prove it.
— Dreaming of Babylon
In Watermelon Sugar the deeds were done and done again as my life is done in watermelon sugar. I'll tell you about it because I am here and you are distant.
— In Watermelon Sugar
"It's hard to live in a studio apartment in San Jose with a man who's learning to play the violin." That's what she told the police when she handed them the empty revolver.
— "The Scarlatti Tilt" from Revenge of the Lawn
I didn't know that afternoon that the ground was waiting to become another grave in just a few short days. Too bad I couldn't grab the bullet out of the air and put it back into the .22 rifle barrel and have it spiral itself back down the barrel and into the chamber and refasten itself to the shell and be as if it had never been fired or even loaded into the gun.
— So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away
I saw a brand new woman's shoe lying in the middle of a quiet Honolulu intersection. It was a brown shoe that sparkled like a leather diamond. There was no apparent reason for the shoe to be lying there such as it playing a part among the leftover remnants of an automobile accident and there were no signs that a parade had passed that way, so the story behind the shoe will never be known.
— An Unfortunate Woman
Often, cloaked like trick or treaters in the casual disguises of philosophical gossip, we wonder about the ultimate meaning of a man's life, and today I'm thinking about Joseph Francl: a man who brought his future to America, God only knows why, from Czechoslovakia in 1851, and completely used up that future to lie dead, face down in the snow, not unhappy in early December 1875, and then to be buried at Fort Klamath, Oregon, in a grave that was lost forever.
— "Introduction," The Overland Journey of Joseph Francl
A sombrero fell out of the sky and landed on the Main Street of town in front of the mayor, his cousin and a person out of work. The day was scrubbed clean by the desert air. The sky was blue. It was the blue of human eyes, waiting for something to happen. There was no reason for a sombrero to fall out of the sky. No airplane or helicopter was passing overhead and it was not a religious holiday.
— Sombrero Fallout
This poem was found written on a paper bag by Richard Brautigan in a laundromat in San Francisco. The author is unknown.
By accident, you put
Your money in my
By accident, I put
My money in another
On purpose, I put
Your clothes in the
Empty machine full
Of water and no
It was lonely.
— "San Francisco" from All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace
website update by John Barber
New name adapted from refrain of Brautigan's novel, So the Wind Won't Blow It All Away. Updated look. Same mission—to provide comprehensive information—and purpose—to maintain memory of Richard Brautigan's life and writing. LEARN more.
book by Erik Weber
From 1962 to 1978, Erik Weber photographed Brautigan on numerous occasions. His photographs show both the public and personal side of Brautigan. Weber has collected and published 200 photographs in this literary photobook. LEARN more.