Posted by That Other Mike on 13/12/2007
This sucks. All my favourite writers are dead, dying or have horrible diseases.
OK, slight exagerration there, but it all bites the big one. It’s a strange feeling, really. You can, through reading and loving someone’s books and other works, feel close to that person, all the while knowing nothing about him but what you can scavenge from book jacket biographies and the internet; I suppose it might come from the fact that on some level a well-written novel is a projection of a person’s mind and thoughts. Getting close to the novel is like a ghost version of getting close to the phenomenal person who gave you so much enjoyment.
I hope Terry beats the statistics.