People Who Died

Earlier in the week, I learned that Kate McGarrigle had died of cancer. She was never a household name—except perhaps in my household, where we folk music fans are fully aware that she was the former wife of Loudon Wainwright III, mother of Rufus Wainwright and Martha Wainwright, and sister of Anna McGarrigle. She and her various family members have made a ton of music together. It must be hard enough to lose a sister, but to also lose your singing partner would make it even more devastating.

I somehow missed that Robert B. Parker died of a heart attack the other day. Andy has read (and in fact owns) every single book Parker wrote, including the entire Spenser series and all those other books about Jesse Stone and Sunny Randall and whoever else. I am not a reader of crime fiction, but how can you not appreciate someone who churned out a couple books a year for more than 35 years? I don't think anyone would call Parker's books "great literature," but Andy always looked forward to his next chance to read about what Spenser was up to. 

Ted Kennedy died many months ago, but it has now been confirmed that last week's senate race in Massachusetts has indeed caused him to spin in his grave.

Comments

[Susan]

I was depressed for days about Robert B. Parker's death. I did think he would get a kick out of a line in his obituary: "Foul play is not suspected." He was so prolific, I was hoping we would find out that there was a syndicate writing the books, but alas ...

In my opinion, although his might not be classified as "great literature," he wrote some of the best dialogue in modern fiction.

[Laura]

I was a fan of Parker's early books, but got tired of them as time wore on. But one of my all time favorite episodes of Oprah was when she did one of those summer-reading lineups (must've been early to mid '90s). Judith Krantz was going on (and on and on ...) about how it had been 20 years since she'd written Scruples, and although she'd sworn she would never write a sequel, she couldn't help it because the characters were haunting her, following her through her life, telling her to pick up their story, speaking dialogue out for her to incorporate into the book. Parker sat there, looking faintly horrified, and when it was his turn said simply, "I sit down every morning and write for four hours. No one tells me what to write. I don't hear any voices." RIP, Spenser.

[Joel]

I am not-so-old folkie who loved the McGarrigle Sisters. And a fan of "Spenser" novels. Been too caught up in our own family illnesses to notice, but these are melancholy losses....