I just found out that Iain M Banks passed away on the 9th of June, 2013, about 2 minutes after I found out he had been diagnosed with terminal gallbladder cancer. What’s more, I found out about his death through an irrelevant blogpost that held wrong information about his cancer, as well as how he took it, blotching in some vapid sob story about how he’d decided to give up writing to spend his last days with friends, family and a new girl when he’d actually packed up for a busy summer with another culture novel in store that never made it to our dimension, and a late romantic proposal to a coworker asking her to be his widow.
I don’t know what’s more infuriating; how this never got enough exposure and the world didn’t skip a turn or how people didn’t honor him enough to properly publicize for his death, so much that I had to find out about it by sheer accident. Or perhaps it’s reading his last interview (read here) and seeing how much potential he had in store or how he took it.
It’s all so infuriating.
The world lost a genius, for god’s sake, acknowledge it! It’s disturbing, how someone like him could just leave our world unnoticed, and not be nearly appreciated enough for all of his pent up, as well as produced, works.
I am too pissed to properly express myself.
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