I was saddened to hear of the passing of Robert B. Parker, the author of the Spenser novels, most of which I read in college.
Spenser was a true renaissance man: literate, educated, athletic, brave, witty, enlightened, tolerant, a jazz fan and a great chef. All of the novels were in the first person and Boston and its surroundings became virtually another character.
There's something almost appropriate, if not poetic about hwo he died:
The cause was a heart attack, said his agent of 37 years, Helen Brann. She said that Mr. Parker had been thought to be in splendid health, and that he died at his desk, working on a book. He wrote five pages a day, every day but Sunday, she said.
Rest in peace.
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