James Herbert...

I was very surprised to hear yesterday that James Herbert the writer had died. I didn't know he was ill and hadn't expected it at all. Was it an accident? Did something bad happen? But no, apparently he died peacefully in his sleep. Not like most of the characters in his books then. Most of then came to various unsavoury ends.

I've been reading him for years. The thought that there would no more of his intriguing tales left me a little sad; and he was only 69. His books may not be great literature but they are damn good yarns with a little spice thrown in for good measure. I can't say I waited with excitement for his latest novel of strange and unnerving happenings to come out, but I eventually got around to reading his latest not too long after release.

A few years back I bid for one of his doodles in an on-line auction. I think I went to £25 and it eventually went for £40 or so. I wish now that I'd gone a little higher and bought it. I really liked it as a doodle and it was so typically him. There was always a good slice of tongue firmly in his cheek in whatever he wrote. It must have been his ad agency copywriter background. That's what he used to do, write copy in an ad agency. He wrote The Rats in a just few months, scribbling away in their time as he was bored shitless with the advertising game. Good on him I say.

Anyway, that's it. No more Rats or Magic Cottages, no more Survivors or even Spears - not even a Ghost of Sleath or two. I may try to reread his books, but I'm not sure they'll stand a second read. I think I'll do The Rats though - just for old times sake.

Bye James, with you another small piece of my past goes too. Thank goodness Stephen King is still around and writing.