Oh, now that’s a shame!
I’ve just found out from the BBC’s teletext and web coverage, that the 77 year-old fantasy author, David Eddings died, on Tuesday.
I’m mildly upset.
I LOVED his stuff; right from page one of the Belgariad series.
Which is maybe putting it strongly.
I also know that he wasn’t a stunningly great genius of a writer. But he was very entertaining. His plot’s were fairly formulaic; but his — or he and Leigh, his late wife and collaborator — did have a wonderfully way with dialogue.
And, yes, I know I usually wouldn’t — these days — go for brick thick novels, Eddings was one of the few exceptions.
As he put it himeself, “I’m never going to be in danger of getting a Nobel prize for literature, I’m a storyteller, not a prophet. I’m just interested in a good story”.
Which I think says it all …
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