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Rick Bass' remembrance of his friend, Jim Harrison ...

He could talk, for sure, and did, but I loved most watching him listen. People brought him things — fine bottles of wine, great cuts of meat, wonderful cheeses — and he did not dislike this in the least. There are restaurants in Paris, whether small cafes or elegant dining rooms, adorned with a black-and-white photo of a middle-aged squinting one-eyed fat man. We ate in elegant restaurants with long white tablecloths in Aix-en-Provence, and at outside tables along sidewalks, on porches and patios. He loved L'Hôtel de Suède, where a horned owl lived in the heart of Paris.

Whether in one of those places, or in Manhattan at Elaine's (always the lamb), from the minute he sat down he was ready to eat. He would study the wine menu at some length but would order a bowl of olives immediately. In France, he liked that dogs came into restaurants and sat calmly at their owners' feet.

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