Harlan Ellison died on my fifty-seventh birthday, June 28, 2018. It wasn't exactly unexpected, but it wasn't the present I had been hoping for. I've been a fan of the man and his work for the entirety of my reading life. I first discovered him in one of those Roger Elwood anthologies that proliferated in the seventies. I forgot the name of the book, and the rest of the contents, but I remember the best story in it: Silent in Gehenna, by Harlan Ellison.

So, yes, it was a thing of joy and wonder to receive two Ellison books in the mail this week. Both are nonfiction and consist of essays from the man. I've already read one of them, Ask Uncle Harlan, and I unsurprisingly enjoyed it. This one has columns from various magazines he wrote for. The best deal with the business of writing. I especially enjoyed one on the importance of having input in cover art and design. There are some fairly predictable rants on the pernicious influence of chain bookstores, publishers who demand that good novels have numerous sequels, and his love of the manual typewriter. Political essays were slightly less welcome. Like many people, I've had it up to here with that stuff these days.

The unwelcome news I received on the same day the books arrived was of the death of Harlan's widow, Susan. I've never met her, but by all accounts she was a delightful and strong individual. She kept reins on the notoriously cantankerous Mr. Ellison, which could not have been easy.

I did speak to Susan once. Harlan was selling his stock of back titles, and they had set up a special phone number in order for customers to reserve titles. I called and got the machine, and then I hung up. Shortly after my phone rang. It was Susan, with Harlan loudly speaking in the background.

Me: Hello?
Susan: Hello! Did you just call this number?
Me: Yes.
Harlan: WHY DIDN'T HE LEAVE A MESSAGE?!?
Susan: Why didn't you leave a message?
Me: I don't talk to machines.
Susan: He doesn't talk to machines!
Harlan: SMART MAN!

I was talking to Harlan at a signing one time and when I said that I liked lima beans he called me a pervert. Harlan called me both a pervert and a smart man. That makes me smile this morning.

I hope the Harlan Ellison Books web site continues to sell his stuff. I've ordered numerous items from them and the service has always been exemplary. If you are interested in obtaining Ellison titles, I urge you to look there. I suppose it is still up in the air about what will happen to all the books and things still sitting there in Harlan Ellison's legendary home. If there is any justice left in the world, and I think there is probably very little, it will become a museum.

I'm smiling but I am also a little teary thinking about Harlan Ellison, the man, the legend, the writer. And his wife Susan, who seemed so kind and patient. This is the end of something wonderful.

Written by Mark Sieber

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