Steven Beattie wrote a thoughtful memorial and review of Crad's story Girl on the Subway. Click here to read it at That Shakespeare Rag.
Years ago (early 80s) I bought a copy of "Sex Slaves of the Astro Mutants" from Mr. Kilodney. He was standing in a doorway on Yonge Street. At the time I was in high school and it was the height of daring to approach him, let alone purchase anything. He, as is noted, was not exactly warm and friendly, not least of all to a high school student who's idea of walking on the wild side was a Saturday stroll down Yonge Street!
That was the only book of his that I bought although I remember seeing him on Bloor or on Yonge Street for years afterward.
Barely remembered him until I read his obit in the Globe & Mail. Surprisingly I still have the book! It is signed and in reasonably good condition.
Would you like to have it for your archive? I did not know him but I admired what he stood for, at least what I thought he stood for; staying true to oneself regardless of what others thought.
Adrienne Vance, BSW, MSW
Gabriola Island, BC
I met Crad in Toronto in 1992 when I was 19 and visiting my brother. For reasons I can't entirely explain, Crad and I became close friends during my brief visit. We maintained a steady letter-writing correspondence and spoke regularly on the phone for the next eleven years. We were each other's best friends and closest confidants. I am grateful to Crad for his years of love, kindness and friendship and most of all, for sharing with me a mutual search for deep understanding and unconditional love and friendship from another person. He will always remain a singular person in my heart.
In 1994 I asked Crad where his pen name came from. He replied:
"My name was given to me by an evil spirit, who promised me posthumous fame OR a great sex life, but not both. Since I'm still alive, he is not technically in default."
On my 26th birthday, he sent me a collaged card that read:
"Happy Birthday Ferocious Female
Now that you are 26,
You must strike the enemy
with stones and sticks,
Slash their throats and
drink their blood,
And drag their bodies
through the mud.
Best wishes from
Crad was the most hopeful and searching of kindness and understanding of anyone I knew, and this formed the basis of our friendship. He is popularly described as a misanthrope, but the joke is, he wasn't. He was moody, he was opinionated in a very curmudgeon-y way, and had no compunction about being politically incorrect. But a misanthrope, he was not. He prized love, kindness and true friendship above all. Because he was so incredibly sensitive, he was easily hurt if his kindness wasn't reciprocated and the armor of the dark, sneering and spitting cynic was reared. But that was just a cloak.
In 1994 I sent him a collage with a very old photo of a man who looked like him, staring darkly out a window. I asking him to contribute some writing on it and send it back to me. It came back reading:
"My gaze is fixed upon a distant shore,
where waits the Virgin Queen of Mangalore;
between her thighs I'll creep because I am
The rightful King of Nagapattinam."
I love this poem because to me it completely represents his writing: funny, obscene, romantic and epic all at once.
Crad and I spoke three times on the phone the week before he passed away. And there was one thing he would always do when we said good-bye. I had forgotten about it until our recent phone calls. He would say "All right my dear, I am giving you a big hug” and then make the sound a person makes when they are squeezing you very hard. I bet the was hugging himself! Then I would do the same. Always. Our phone calls always ended with a hug and sometimes a kiss on the cheek.
I wish I could be there with you all tonight. My hope is that this is being read to a room full of people mixed with friends, acquaintances, as well as those who barely knew him, or never knew him, in equal measure, and are not at all surprised to learn what a gentle, kind and wonderful man our dark poet was.
Don't miss Crad's dear friend Jenny Hart remembering him at Boing Boing.
Toronto writer of Necrofiles fame, Donna Lypchuk, wrote a heartfelt and hilarious piece in memory of Crad Kilodney.
Click here to read Some Things That Crad Kilodney Should Know Now That He is Dead.
Thank you to Ruth Bradley St. Cyr for this tribute at the Dusty Bookcase. Click to read.
"Banality, stupidity, and ugliness lie on the landscape like a carpet that has been pissed on by twenty generations of dogs."
CK, Putrid Scum
Many thanks to Joe Fiorito for honouring Canadian literary icon Crad Kilodney. Click here to read story at the Star.
If you have thoughts, memories, or photos about Crad or his work you would like to share, send them to firstname.lastname@example.org to be posted in this department.