It’s an odd kind of sadness when an author (or anyone) you admire, and whose books you love passes away. In most cases, you didn’t know them on a personal level but there is a sense of familiarity through their writing, interviews and appearances. It’s a selfish kind of sadness as well because you think ‘but I will never read a new book by them again‘. I’m so sad for their families and friends who miss them the most, and I can only hope they find some peace.
It’s sad as well because Iain Banks told us it was coming in his very honest and frank announcement two months ago, and I thought, as I imagine everyone did, that there would be more time. He passed away today and I can only think of one more thing to say:
RIP Iain Banks, thank you for all the wonders you gave us.