David Thompson died yesterday. He was a sweet, ebullient man who helped to run Murder by the Book in Houston. In his honor, I spent the day away from Facebook, although that was kind of ass-backwards. It was because of Facebook, indirectly, that I first learned of his death. Because of Facebook, I had more regular contact with him than I might have otherwise; we had IM’ed just a week or so ago. And his Facebook page is an interesting testament to the man. His last two posts included a status update about Bouchercon 2011, which he was going to help run, and a photo of his just-washed dog, Jack Reacher.
Still, I walked away from Facebook because I have too much fun there and I didn’t want to have fun today. Luckily, I had galleys to proof. (Rimshot.) I worked my way through the remaining pages of “The Girl in a Green Raincoat.”
I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that “Girl” solves the book’s essential mystery in the penultimate chapter only to present Tess Monaghan with a much more personal life-or-death situation in the final chapter. I’ve read that chapter a lot since I first wrote it in 2008. But I’ve never cried so hard as I did today. I couldn’t help thinking of Emily’s words — well, Thornton Wilder’s words — in Our Town: “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?”
The friend who alerted me about David’s death happened to give me some good advice about domestic matters. Where I could, he said, I should throw money at any problem if it meant spending more time with family. To which I will say only: Yep.
We love crime novels, in part, because they make sense of something that sometimes makes no sense at all, sudden death. I don’t know a writer gifted enough who can make sense of the loss of David Thompson.
What a moving tribute.
I keep going back in memory to the first time I visited the store and he was just a kid. Shy but intensely interested. This past week we were conferring back and forth on a book of mine that he’s putting back in print and he cared enough about my misgivings over the cover to make a happy improvement. He seemed so together and thoroughly enjoying the life he and his wife were living. In the years to come, he would have made a huge impact on our industry. Thank you, Laura, for voicing what so many of us are feeling.
Laura, this is just beautiful.
I only met David one time, and very briefly. But he never failed to drop me a little note when he happened to read something nice I might have said about someone he cared about – which was everyone in the mystery world.
It was my loss not to have been able to get to know this remarkable young man who was so well loved.
Laura, this expresses it very well, What life is about and trying your best to make every single minute count. I think what Margaret said is right – he would have made an even bigger impact on our mystery community as he made his way through life with his beloved McKenna and fur-kids and his bustling press and store. He had fun doing what I loved doing – putting a person together with just the right book. I’m so glad that everyone I know liked him too. He was a true gem that we will all carry with us. He won’t be forgotten. But what a crappy way to go in the end, alone.