The New York Times posted an obituary for the author Susan Fromberg Schaeffer, who died last week at age 71. Ms. Schaeffer was one of my favorite writers, and was the author of Anya, The Madness of a Seduced Woman, Time in Its Flight and Love. Reading the obituary, I came upon a book of hers that I had somehow missed, Buffalo Afternoon. I will be adding it to my very long list of must-reads.
I maintain my own personal pantheon of dearly departed writers, including Laurie Colwin, Alice Adams, Rona Jaffe and the playwright Wendy Wasserstein. Their voices are now silent, their keyboards still, but their words live on. It is sad though, to remember how much you enjoyed the writing of a particular author and waited anxiously for their next book (or play) to appear. Finding out that there would be no more is a little like losing a friend and realizing there will be no more visits, and no more long phone calls that cover personal news that ranges from the seriously important to the trivial. There is an empty place. But unlike the unfillable hole that results from the death of a friend, it is always possible to reread those authors' books and enjoy them once again. Thank goodness for that--there is some comfort there.
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