WHEN I completed The Big Fisherman, a year ago, I announced that I would never attempt another novel, a statement that won for me the first applause I had ever heard from my more ruthless critics.
I was very tired. The long story had occupied my mind for five years. I was seventy-one, badly crippled with arthritis, sick-abed much of the time; and when, on the last page, Simon Peter died, I half envied him.
For a few weeks I rejoiced in my freedom. I had been out of one novel and into another for twenty years. There was nothing more that I wanted to say. Now I would have plenty of leisure to read many neglected books and write to many neglected friends.
Lloyd C. Douglas was a noteworthy American minister and author. He spent part of his boyhood in Monroeville, Indiana, Wilmot, Indiana and Florence, Kentucky, where his father, Alexander Jackson Douglas, was pastor of the Hopeful Lutheran Church. He died in Los Angeles, California. Douglas was one of the most popular American authors of his time, although he didn't write his first novel until he was 50. His written works were of a moral, didactic, and distinctly religious tone. His first novel, Magnificent Obsession, was an immediate and sensational success. Critics held that his type of fiction was in the tradition of the great religious writings of an earlier generation, such as, Ben-Hur and Quo Vadis. Douglas is buried in Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery in Glendale, California.