Robert B. Parker.
Born September 17th 1932 Springfield, Massachusetts
Died January 18th 2010
I have grown up with Spenser. I remember the power of the early works. I delight in the wit and humour and intellectual rigour of the later books. I relished everything about the books. Even as the critics levelled their charges I bought and read and kept the books. To me Parker's creation of Spenser and the characters around him carried an intense meaning that sums up how I interact with literature and life on all levels. I would sit with Spenser at his desk, with a glass of Irish whiskey looking out of the window. I remember Paul Giacomin, the boy who shrugged. I remember the shock as Susan left him. I appreciated the total self-awareness and intensity of emotion reflected in the words and the meanings behind the words.
When John D. MacDonald died and Travis McGee departed to that great Marina in the sky I felt cheated that there would be no more in the series. With Robert Parker I feel grief of the same ilk but also a sense that the characters cannot die. I don't mean for a resurrection of RBP the franchise or an attempt to turn a doodle on a deskpad into the unfinished work that is reminiscent of, but not quite, the genuine article. I mean that in Spenser, Hawk, Vinnie, Jesse, Sunny the images survive in the mind. They live on, and of course so too, does Robert Parker in that sense. I always wanted to read his PhD thesis and perhaps his publishers might consider that but above all I will miss the chance for Spenser and the rest to live their lives on. I would have liked to carry on living with them all instead of having their existences paused with that sense of anti-climax. I could use any number of quotations from the books that might seem apt for this sad occasion but I remember with particular fondness "Early Autumn" where Spenser is teaching Paul how to live, indeed how to survive by himself, in himself, yet at the same time demonstrating the type of relationship that underpins all meaningful human interaction. Parker helped me to understand these type of ideas within the same framework as other great writers from the very highest canons of world literature. For this, Robert, I am grateful. When you're milling around up there explaining to your friends (who made the journey sooner like Robert Urich) what you had envisaged for Spenser and Susan and Pearl (the Wonder Dog) I hope you will feel the love and affection in which you were (and still are) held. I pass on my commiserations to Joan and say thank you for her husband and his work. I raise my glass in salute.
