So much talk about the recently deceased writer caused me to reflect on fame. It's like fire in that it can be unpredictable, scar for life, or save lives with its warmth. Certainly a catalyst
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I'm occasionally bemused, at groceries, when my eye lights on a tabloid that refers to people I've never heard of by first names, as if everyone would know who that meant. Though I suppose for the relevant "everyone" it does. I hardly ever recognize the names of actors or athletes. On the other hand, if I should ever have met Joseph Greenberg or Lynn Margulis or Johanna Nichols I would have been *really excited*.
I can't say I was a great Ellison fan, either, though I found "'Repent, Harlequin!' Said the Ticktockman" memorable. But there's an end-of-an-era feeling with him, even more than with Le Guin.
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I can't say I was a great Ellison fan, either, though I found "'Repent, Harlequin!' Said the Ticktockman" memorable. But there's an end-of-an-era feeling with him, even more than with Le Guin.
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