It’s all right Rick, we’ll get you another author.
There’s loads of them out there. I’m sure there’ll be something you like.
Terry Pratchett has been my very good friend since I was fifteen years old. He regularly took me from places I did not want to be, and led me instead to places I adored. He showed me worlds of grey morality and absurd impracticality, then gently pointed out that they were not so very different from my own. He made me laugh, a lot, but he also invited me to care. Sometimes he thrilled me, and more than once he made me cry. We met up once a year, at least, and he always had something new to show me.
Terry Pratchett died today, after a protracted and very public struggle with Alzheimers. He won’t be coming round to take me new places anymore.
But… other authors. Loads of them. Really good ones. We can take you to the shop and you can choose…
No. I don’t want another author.
I want this one.
“And what would humans be without love?”
RARE, said Death.”