In Memoriam: David Eddings, 1931-2009
Jun. 3rd, 2009 08:19 amIt is now confirmed by at least two sources that fantasy author David Eddings, famed for his best-selling sword-and-sorcery trilogies The Belgariad, The Malloreon and The Elenium, has died a few weeks short of what would have been his 78th birthday. Cause of death has not been reported as yet; the online newsletter SF Crow's Nest has an obituary here, and About.com's SF forum has another here.
I read The Elenium (The Diamond Throne, The Ruby Knight and The Sapphire Rose) avidly when I discovered them a few years back, and likewise devoured its sequel trilogy The Tamuli (Domes of Fire, The Shining Ones, The Hidden City) afterward. I had not known until now, however, that their author was in his seventies or that he had been at all ill. He was an idiosyncratic fantasist by reputation, writing out all his books in longhand on paper and eschewing the use of even a typewriter, much less a computer. He also had a becoming humility about his success and a certain knowledge of what had brought it about: his skill at creating memorable characters that leapt off the page and into a movie in your mind, fully costumed and ready for action. (I still think Jane Seymour should play Lady Sephrenia, and you could do worse than Bruce Boxleitner for Sir Sparhawk. In fact, considering the books' sales figures, I'm quite surprised we haven't yet seen at least one film based on an Eddings work already.)
My heart, thoughts and prayers are with the rest of Mr. Eddings' family (his wife and co-author Leigh having predeceased him two years ago) and his friends, colleagues and fans in this most difficult hour. Rest well, sir, and thank you for many hours of engrossing reading.
I read The Elenium (The Diamond Throne, The Ruby Knight and The Sapphire Rose) avidly when I discovered them a few years back, and likewise devoured its sequel trilogy The Tamuli (Domes of Fire, The Shining Ones, The Hidden City) afterward. I had not known until now, however, that their author was in his seventies or that he had been at all ill. He was an idiosyncratic fantasist by reputation, writing out all his books in longhand on paper and eschewing the use of even a typewriter, much less a computer. He also had a becoming humility about his success and a certain knowledge of what had brought it about: his skill at creating memorable characters that leapt off the page and into a movie in your mind, fully costumed and ready for action. (I still think Jane Seymour should play Lady Sephrenia, and you could do worse than Bruce Boxleitner for Sir Sparhawk. In fact, considering the books' sales figures, I'm quite surprised we haven't yet seen at least one film based on an Eddings work already.)
My heart, thoughts and prayers are with the rest of Mr. Eddings' family (his wife and co-author Leigh having predeceased him two years ago) and his friends, colleagues and fans in this most difficult hour. Rest well, sir, and thank you for many hours of engrossing reading.
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