And I totally know that somewhere, someplace you took interest in an author just because he was so adorable.
I'm pretty sure about this. Or was it just me? (I'll tell you who my crush was later.)
For now, here's the lineup. Which of these authors was gorgeous enough to earn your devotion on looks alone, and which were not? Tell the truth. You can't hurt their feelings: they're dead.
(It's okay to add a write-in. Just be sure and pick a dead one, for reasons referenced above.)
Katy, you know me. I'm such a rebel. I have a write-in from the start, Jack London, ruggedly handsome and intriguing. Besides having survived all that he wrote about, he puts his reader right into the setting of his books. Be careful, you may get frostbite and always bring extra matches. A little cabin. A wolf sleeping in front of the fire. And Jack London. He would have loved Goretex. "I'm putting on my parka, Jack!"
Okay, Patti, Jack's a hottie. Young, but a hottie. Like this one of Ernest Hemingway as a soldier boy. He had the good looks of Tom Cruise.
Also, I like his scruffy look, after life had put a little mileage on him. I think it makes him more interesting. He has an Errol Flynn-type of roguishness in this picture, which goes with his whole warrior/safari hunter/toreador image. I admit that while I've read a lot of his work, I can't say I understood them one hundred percent.