Amongst all
the other weird and wonderful things that have been going on recently, I’ve
been thinking about two things that I keep coming back around to. The first
thing on my mind has been the role of an artist, the impact they have on the
world around them and the impact that the world has on them. The second thing is
Iain Banks, or more specifically, the recent passing of Iain Banks. The latter
is something that I’ve mostly put to the back of my mind, because, quite
frankly, the thought of it makes me feel sad. I didn’t know the man, I was once
lucky enough to meet him, but it was a moment just like thousands of others for
him and on no level do I claim the right of grief that people who actually did
know him will be experiencing. But I can’t escape the fact that Iain Banks was,
is, one of my literary heroes. If you have ever read my blog before you will
know this well enough. So, because I don’t see it as a personal loss or upset that
I have to bear, I’ve just opted not to think about it. I thought this was the
best way to deal with it, or not deal with it as the case may be.
