A little over a week ago an author I particularly enjoy reading committed suicide. I tried writing this a few days ago but the words just wouldn't come.
If you asked me to list my favourite authors at any single point over the last few years Thomas M. Disch is unlikely to have ever featured on my list. Isaac Asimov, Edmund Cooper, Mike Resnick, Robert Charles Wilson, Arthur C. Clarke, Michael Moorcock, Orson Scott Card, Paul di Filippo, Robert Heinlein, Stephen King and Zoran Zivkovic would all have been mentioned at one time or another - depending upon my mood. But not Disch.
Thinking of that now I find it odd. I have found his writing consistent. Every book entertained me. He was a great writer and I am saddened that once I have read all that currently exist, then there will be no more. There will be no new books in the future.
But equally I am saddened by the details I read - of his depression, of his mourning his partner, of his fears over eviction.
His life he obviously felt not worth continuing, but to me (and many others) it was a life worth a great deal. I never knew him except through his writing, but I will miss him.