One of the very best comic book writers -- a great writer -- Steve Gerber, died the other day. Details at http://www.stevegerber.com/sgblog/.
It's synchronicitic (which might've tickled Gerber): I had been thinking of death and dying the last day or so (not in a suicidal way), more particularly meditating on a good way to go.
Gerber, I would think, expensively sickly, did not go particularly well: as I said, expensively sickly with a pretty much untreatable illness, working far less than he should; around sixty or so and still eking out a living.
I hope he was surrounded by love at the end; will try and find out.
But there's so much sadness nonetheless in his dying....
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
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A quick clarification: Besides just his off-center perspective, one of the coolest things about Gerber was that he was a rarity: a writer who wrote comics. Not a comic book writer, not a genre schlock-meister working in a new medium after pulp or movies or TV. "Just" a writer who wrote for comic books. A comic book writer could not write Howard or Man-Thing or even The Defenders.
Or, in a horror mag, toss off in one issue one of the best romance stories ever ("A Candle for St. Cloud", IIRC.
A huge talent of which we only got a very small taste.
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