Tito Cormac, 89

Mourning the death of Cormac McCarthy, one of my favorite novelists. He was 89. Revisited my blog and found that I wrote a few things about him, including my thoughts about Blood Meridian and All the Pretty Horses. 

Really enjoyed the interview with Cormac's long-time friend, Dennis Francis, in the WBIR Channel 10 Youtube channel. What struck me was how Cormac nourished, sustained, and protected his private life. I suppose that's something our generation does not understand, but living a quiet life, away from the spotlight, is one of life's underrated pleasures. Cormac's friends before his success remained his friends to the end. His friend described him as "loyal." By all accounts, he was great to hang out with and told the best stories.

What is it particularly about the death of writers that leaves me in a state of quiet contemplation?