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Robert Stone is a great American writer in the tradition of Melville, Hawthorne, Dreiser, Dos Passos, Hemingway; his fiction suggests, in its dramatic ambiguities, the moral concerns of Joseph Conrad and Graham Greene. Everything Bob wrote—virtually every sentence—is beautifully modulated. A Flag for Sunrise (my favorite of his novels), Dog Soldiers, Damascus Gate, Outerbridge Reach—the wonderful memoir Prime Green: Remembering the Sixties—such masterfully crafted stories as “Helping” and “Bear and His Daughter”—each is uniquely Bob Stone, suffused with his inimitable blend of unsparing candor and wild, unpredictable humor. For all the gravity of his subjects, Bob Stone was a truly funny person, a born storyteller, sometimes of riotous tall tales. He was a beacon of clarity who took us to dark places but did not abandon us there. It is so hard to believe that he has left us. He will be terribly missed.