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Donna Leon

 One of my favorite writers, Donna Leon, just turned eighty.


A college writing teacher, Amy Bloom, introduced me to Leon; back in 2002, I think Leon was already publishing one novel per year, and the trend has continued all the way to the present.

Leon seems refreshingly unpretentious; she has said she will continue to write mysteries until the process is "no longer fun." Then she'll stop.

Among Leon's starry admirers was (the late) Ursula LeGuin, who observed that Leon's writing "never becomes perfunctory."

It's a great comfort to me every March to visit Guido Brunetti, Leon's fictional detective, and to "see" Venice, which is both an unbelievably beautiful place and a corrupt swamp, an overrun zoo, a weight sinking into the sea.

I'm never unhappy to meet with Brunetti's foolish boss, his fiery wife, his cunning secretary. And I especially like Brunetti's wryness and intelligence; this guy understands that the world is broken, he reads people well, and he quietly commits to doing his own personal best, on a daily basis.

I hope we'll get at least a few more books from Leon.
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