Last Saturday, I was pushing a shopping cart down the aisle at my local Home Sense when my friend Max Booth III messaged me on Facebook to tell me author Tom Piccirilli had passed away. I didn't know him nearly well enough to be entitled to grief, but it's not a sentiment that asks for permission. I have discovered and learned to love Tom Piccirilli's fiction through this blog. Over the last three years, I've read more of his novels (10) than any other authors. One of my favorite writers in the world had died. My heart sank, I couldn't help it.
Piccirilli never was a best seller, because it wasn't the nature of his fiction. He wrote for the people who already read, and burned out on best sellers. The people who dug a little deeper, who wanted more out of their fiction than the conventions. I've been reading 80 to 110 books a year since I started reviewing novels for this blog, and Tom Piccirilli's novels have almost always been among the year's best, so I like to believe his savage talent was meant for the driven and the passionate. The people who read and did everything excessively.
Here are my all my reviews of Tom Piccirilli's work:
Here are my all my reviews of Tom Piccirilli's work:
He was also kind enough to sit down with me for an interview, before the release of his immortal novel THE LAST KIND WORDS. In fact, we exchanged emails for a couple months, back then, shooting the shit about the publishing industry. He also gave me precious advice about my own ambitions as a writer. When Tom Piccirilli passed away, his Facebook timeline was instantly flooded with messages from other young authors who seemed to have shared a similar moment with him than I did. I didn't know him all that well, but I think this spoke volumes about the kind of man he was: kind and generous enough to take time for everyone, no matter who they were, no matter if they could do something for him in exchange or not. It's not all that common in the publishing industry.
But I knew Tom Piccirilli as a reader, first and foremost. He mastered the art of raw, emotional first person narration like no other authors. His writing style was rich, vibrant and profoundly unique. I believe he was one of the few who truly mastered his craft. Who spent way more than 10,000 hours hammering away at his keyboard. The world is a little colder now that we don't have him anymore, like Nick Mamatas said. His legacy didn't vanish, though. He still have dozens of novels, novellas and collections out there, waiting to be read and it's not like they're ever going out of print in the ePublishing era. It's our duty as readers to keep his memory alive by reading his books. Not because he was a good man, but because he was a great, intense writer. A talent too unique to fall into oblivion.
I'll never forget where I was, when I learned that Tom Piccirilli died, shopping for the future in my brand new condo when the very idea of future stopped existing for a person that took such an important place in my creative life. I might've felt the pinch of guilt too. Life is unfair, but sometimes you're at the right end of the balance. Before I finish, I want to give my condolences to Tom's wife Michelle, who's been providing us with updates about his condition for the last two years. I can't imagine the absurd level of grief she's going through, but she needs to know that her husband's readers are with her, at least in spirit. So long, Tom Piccirilli. Thank you for the books, the dreams and the intellectual getaways. I'll miss you, sir. But I'll do my best to keep your legacy alive and well.
But I knew Tom Piccirilli as a reader, first and foremost. He mastered the art of raw, emotional first person narration like no other authors. His writing style was rich, vibrant and profoundly unique. I believe he was one of the few who truly mastered his craft. Who spent way more than 10,000 hours hammering away at his keyboard. The world is a little colder now that we don't have him anymore, like Nick Mamatas said. His legacy didn't vanish, though. He still have dozens of novels, novellas and collections out there, waiting to be read and it's not like they're ever going out of print in the ePublishing era. It's our duty as readers to keep his memory alive by reading his books. Not because he was a good man, but because he was a great, intense writer. A talent too unique to fall into oblivion.
I'll never forget where I was, when I learned that Tom Piccirilli died, shopping for the future in my brand new condo when the very idea of future stopped existing for a person that took such an important place in my creative life. I might've felt the pinch of guilt too. Life is unfair, but sometimes you're at the right end of the balance. Before I finish, I want to give my condolences to Tom's wife Michelle, who's been providing us with updates about his condition for the last two years. I can't imagine the absurd level of grief she's going through, but she needs to know that her husband's readers are with her, at least in spirit. So long, Tom Piccirilli. Thank you for the books, the dreams and the intellectual getaways. I'll miss you, sir. But I'll do my best to keep your legacy alive and well.