Years ago, my dad gave me a book, one that looked like the kind of paperback you’d pull off a spinner rack or pick up with a bag of Chex Mix at the airport.
With its big knife on the cover, it was an edition of David Morrell’s debut, “First Blood,” the 1972 novel about a troubled Vietnam War veteran that inspired the film of the same name, which introduced the character of Rambo to the world.
Longtime readers may recall my late father loved mysteries and thrillers and … yeah, that’s it. But even with such a restricted reading diet, he read more books than any human I’ve ever known – an endless onslaught of smoking guns, smoldering cigarettes and furtive fedora’d figures on the covers.
He’d rise early to read before work, read on his lunch hour and then, while we watched TV at night, he’d read more. At the small local library he’d visit multiple times a week, hardworking librarians stoked stacks of hardboiled hardbacks into his hands: With two or three books going at a time, he’d have a novel in his desk at work, another where he smoked by our back door, one on the nightstand and probably more stashed away god knows where else.
We were nothing alike: He read his way. I read mine. (Yeah, yeah, I know.)
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Still, I was surprised by the sensitive note he left me with the book. OK, it was just a Post-It with a short message scrawled on it, but that was considered sensitivity back then! It said basically, “Thought you might like” or something.
Under questioning, Dad specified that he thought I’d connect with Morrell’s introduction to “First Blood,” and he was right. Morrell reveals himself to be thoughtful and low-key rather than the mastermind behind a pumped-up ‘80s movie icon. In fact, Morrell underplays his own impact, writing that his novel “eventually became the basis for a well-known film.”
Diplomatic about the movies – except possibly the third one – Morrell says the book and film versions are “trains that look the same but are going in different directions.”
Morrell came to mind this week as I worked on a story about the novelist Gregory Galloway and his new book “All We Trust.” Galloway, who tells great stories about his time at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, took classes from Morrell, who was something of a mentor. We talked for a long time, and since I couldn’t fit everything in, I thought I’d share a few of my favorite anecdotes before you read the story (because, you’re going to read it, right? … Right?).
“He was a terrific teacher. I learned a lot about writing fiction from taking his classes, and I think I took every class that he taught,” Galloway told me.
“We read a lot of stuff, and it was both an appreciation of the story, but also a great sort of under-the-hood teaching, like ‘This is why the sentence works,’ and ‘This is really well written – and this is how,’” says Galloway. “Everybody from Hemingway, Fitzgerald, James – he loved Henry James – Edith Wharton. Robert Penn Warren, Jack Kerouac. I think a lot of those people I encountered for the very first time in his class. We read a lot of really, really good stuff.”
The novel “First Blood” reflected Morrell’s compassion and commitment to good writing, according to the author.
“He created this iconic figure in pop culture, but the book is so different. … It’s a very humane character study about what this person’s return to the world would be like,” he says. ”It’s a very well-written novel.”
Galloway recalls a moment just as the film franchise was launching into the zeitgeist.
“I remember being in his office, and he had just gotten his mail,” says Galloway. “It was a tube, and he pulled out the tube, and it was the poster for ‘First Blood.’”
Galloway’s memories of Morrell, who you can also watch discussing the book in this YouTube interview from April, 2025, suggest his work as a teacher might be as impactful as his role creating an ’80s movie icon.
There were more stories about his time at Iowa that I couldn’t squeeze into the story, so here are a few that I couldn’t bear to leave mouldering in my notes:
“I was in a freshman writing class, and Denis Johnson came. He was just so awesome, just so incredible. He was reading poetry, you know; this is before ‘Jesus’ Son,’ This was before everything,” says Galloway. “He was just amazing.”
“Barry Hannah came. He was fantastic; he had on purple sunglasses, chain-smoking. There were maybe 20 of us in class, and he was like, ‘How many of you want to be a writer?’ Of course, everyone raised their hand. He’s like, ‘Yeah, probably two of you will make it.’
Galloway recalls that this shocking opener led into a talk designed to prepare the aspiring writers to weather the hardships ahead – not necessarily to dissuade them from ever trying.
Still.
“Everybody was aghast,” recalls Galloway.
And as we’ve already established that I hope you’ll read the Galloway piece or, if not, send me a small beach cabana* instead, here is a free gift link for you:
READ THIS, WHY DON’T YOU:
How Gregory Galloway’s crime novel ‘All We Trust’ emerged from personal loss
* I’m kidding. Please don’t try to mail me any cabanas. They won’t fit through the mail slot, don’t ask me how I know.
Motion in Poetry
A few days ago, it was announced that poet and writer Maggie Smith will be taking over as host of “The Slowdown,” the poetry podcast and bastion of decency, calm and good writing that arrives each weekday.
This is terrific news. Following previous hosts Tracy K. Smith, Ada Limón and Major Harris, Smith is a wonderful poet and memoirist, as well as the author of “Good Bones,” a poem that never manages not to be relevant.
The producer of “The Slowdown” is Myka Kielbon, a smart, dedicated radio person and poet who is also one of our favorite humans.
Do you listen? Check it out. New episodes arrive Aug. 18.
We all need poetry in our lives, and the occasional slowdown, too.
Also read: Maggie Smith recommends 10 of her favorite vooks of poetry