I have a strong appreciation for J.D. Salinger's work. The way he captures the raw terror of growing up and desperately wanting to hold on to anything you can is so poignantly written. His emotion is timeless. His talents were endless.
The man died a recluse. Didn't seem to care for the fame. Hidden away from all of it for most of his adult life. But he never stopped writing. Oh, to be privy to how his mind works.
My something weird? I have one story of his left that I can't bring myself to read, because it's THE LAST ONE.