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Mike Ford is gone. The cause of his death is not yet known. Elise Matthesen found his body around two o’clock this morning. She said it looked like it was fast and easy, whatever it was.
He’d been in poor health for decades. This still comes as a terrible shock.
I keep thinking that Mike would know the right thing to say about all this. There’s a hole in the universe.
Against Entropy(The circumstances of the poem’s composition. You won’t find a clearer demonstration of (some of) the reasons we’re mourning Mike.)The worm drives helically through the wood
And does not know the dust left in the bore
Once made the table integral and good;
And suddenly the crystal hits the floor.
Electrons find their paths in subtle ways,
A massless eddy in a trail of smoke;
The names of lovers, light of other days—
Perhaps you will not miss them. That’s the joke.
The universe winds down. That’s how it’s made.
But memory is everything to lose;
Although some of the colors have to fade,
Do not believe you’ll get the chance to choose.
Regret, by definition, comes too late;
Say what you mean. Bear witness. Iterate.—John M. Ford
Some links to writing by Mike Ford:
Neil Gaiman: The Lovers, the Dreamers, and Death.
Today Neil posted a collection of wonderful things Mike recently sent him in email.
Another post by Neil, with the cleaned-up text of “The Final Connection”.
110 Stories
Troy: The Movie
The Infernokrusher Romeo and Juliet
“I am the King now, and I want a sandwich.”
“Declaration” and “Response”, by John M. Ford and Elise Matthesen
As Above, So Below (short story)
The Speculative Engineering store at CafePress
Some of Mike’s front-page posts here:
Harry of Five Points
In This Hour (during Katrina; on coping with the stress of bad news)
Judy Sings Holliday (on the Valerie Plame case)
You Can’t Dance to It… (on science fiction and prediction)
Earth Creatures Put One Right Past Martian Defense Force
TSA Gumbo Surprise
More Songs about Buildings and Food
Given how joyfully Mike disported himself in the comment threads, it’s a damned shame that ML’s “view all comments by” function is currently out of commission. To give you some idea, here are some of the comments Mike posted to a single open thread:
#103: Caster sugar.
#253: Kojak and the Defenestrations of Prague.
#268: Attendance at the Roman games.
#294: Liquid nitrogen; shrubbing.
#353: Poirot on Betjeman.
#359: Recasting McGonagall.
#382: Misanthropy and comedians.
#388: Mad fiendish mathematicians.
#404: Sir Francis Drake’s gold pocket calculator.
#472: Bother, dinosaurs, and sodomy.
Links to writing about Mike Ford:
NESFA’s Chronological Bibliography of his work.
Senseless Acts of Random Stuff helpfully provides links to a ludography, a collection of quotes, and Mike’s poem about Loren Wiseman.
Interview: John M. Ford in Strange Horizons.
Neil Gaiman’s Concerning Speculative Engineering, with notes on Exploration, the Scattered Oevre of John M. Ford, and an Unreliable and Vaguely Scatalogical Anecdote about Freud or Someone Like That, his introduction to Mike’s collection, From the End of the Twentieth Century.
The memorial threads at SFF Net.
A long thoughtful consideration of Mike’s influence on the Star Trek universe, by Eric Burns.
Avedon Carol: There could never be enough of Mike Ford.
Kathryn Cramer posts a memoir, with photo.
A Flickr photoset of everyone’s pictures tagged “John M. Ford”.
DDB’s photos of Mike.
A LiveJournal post from Pamela Dean.
Another post by Pamela Dean.
Madeleine Robins writes some anecdotes about Mike.
Peg Kerr’s memorial post.
Dan Layman-Kennedy’s.
Some words from Mike’s close friend Jim Rigney (Robert Jordan).
Henry Farrell at Crooked Timber.
Jane Yolen’s Journal, 25 September 2006.
Ellen Kushner on Mike’s handwriting.
Diane Duane’s long essay about Mike from the program book when he was GoH at Boskone.
A post by Will Shetterly.
Another post by Will Shetterly.
Roz Kaveney wrote a poem.
One, two, three, four reminiscences by Joel Rosenberg.
A post by Steve Jackson.
And one by Hilary Moon Murphy.
The Authorized Klin Zha Homepage.
Unqualified Offerings’ Jim Henley.
Ken MacLeod.
Kevin Maroney.
John Clute’s obituary in The Independent. (Elise: “He did well by Mike.”)
Note: Elise says:
“If people want to send messages, e-mail is best right now. It keeps the phone clear for various chats with medical examiners, medical examiner investigators, Mike’s attorney and the like; so if people could refrain from phoning unless it’s re next-of-kin stuff or immediate legal/logistical stuff, at least for the next 48 hours, it would be a kindness. Thank you. The e-mails are lovely, though I won’t be able to respond for a bit.”
I am very sorry for all of you. I'm afraid I only knew him through Neil Gaiman's blog (and here, of course) where Neil once posted a lovely version of the muppet song about rainbows Mr Ford did: The Final Connection.
I feel awkward posting this, because I'm sure this board includes many of his friends and comrades, and I never really knew him, except through Making Light. But he was a good guy - and bright with it, and funny - and it's a damn shame.
But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,
You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,
What for us are all distractions of men's fellowship and smiles;
What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles!
You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,
But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant's fate.
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.
Oh... oh... censored.
I'll never get to meet him. (more censored)
Crazy(I'll try to balance the self-centeredness by thinking kind thoughts for Elise the rest of the week, and longer...)Soph
Well, that's a rotten way to start a Monday morning...
Condolences to everyone. This really sucks.
Oh, no. I'm terribly sorry to hear it. My deepest condolences to his loved ones and friends.
I just finished reading The Final Reflection on Saturday morning. I'm pretty sure it was the last of his published novels I hadn't read before.
Oh, no no no.
Oh, crap.
As you say, it's an awful shock, even though....
*sigh*
Yit-ga-dal ve'yit-ka-dash sh'mei ra-ba...
I'm so terribly sorry. I feel the loss deeply enough, and I was only mildly acquainted with him online and had never really had the chance to more than chat casually at an SF con -- a brilliant author, commentator, wit and so obviously a great human being who had done so much and certainly would go on to do much more of the same. To those who knew him better, what a blow this must be.
I'm very, very sorry. I had only recently realized that the guy I've seen posting here was also the author of some of my favorite Trek books, and...damn. That really, really sucks.
He was the world's ornament.
Oh,
I'm so sorry.
His last post.
No more funny, wise Mike Ford posts to read. The world darkens, not a little, but a lot. I shall go and read him once again.
Damn it. I'm so sorry to hear this. I never met him, and only corresponded with him for a couple of rounds a while back, but his writing has pleased and comforted me for many years. Condolences to his friends and loved ones.
Horrible news. I never saw Mike often enough, but each time I did it was an enormous pleasure. Kept track of him through our mutual friends, and of course through his comments here. One of the nicest and smartest people I've ever met.
Godspeed, Mike, and if it is possible, I hope to see you again someday.
He brought so much delight to these conversations. We will all miss him.
May he rest in peace.
I met him but twice, but I'll miss him.
May he rest in peace.
Damn. That just isn't right.
Condolencences to his family and friends.
I only got to meet him once, and it was wonderful. I love his work and I loved reading his posts here. This is a huge loss.
Robert Jordan had a blurb on Ford's covers that said "John M. Ford is the best writer in America, bar none."
It wasn't hyperbole.
He was one of my absolute favorites and I will miss his wonderful stories. I will always cherish having been able to meet him and hear him give a reading of his work.
Oh shit!
I'm sorry to hear this. I didn't know Mikey all that well, but we'd been on each other's peripheries for about 20 years. I always found him endlessly entertaining, and I was always sorry that he wasn't able to travel more.
What's Else's address?
Aw, crap. I only met him once, and always expected in the fullness of time that I would meet him more times under better circumstances. I always enjoyed his writing -- it was an honor to accompany in the Grimm Cabaret.
May he rest in peace.
Dammit. My sympathies to everyone. I only knew him from here and his writing, but he was a bright spot in my day anyway and I always looked forward to reading his posts and comments.
Warm, comforting thoughts to all of you who are grieving.
I knew him only through his posts here, but I'll miss him even so. My sincere condolences to his friends and family.
The sky should turn black, the mountains should tremble, it doesn't seem right that the world should go on as usual and Mike Ford not be in it.
I was holding it together really well until I read the poem.
My heart is breaking with this news. A bright star has gone out.
He will be sorely missed.
Oh no.
No.
There are no words.
Just...
"This is magic, this is what magic is:
Grief too terrible to be borne."
— "A Holiday in the Park"
"The knowledge that the train may stop but the line goes on.
The train may stop
But the line
Goes on."
— "Winter Solstice, Camelot Station"
There is a hole in the Universe.
Oh no! )-:
I've been making my way through _Heat of Fusion_, and thinking what a brilliant, talented man he truly was. A terrible loss.
My deepest sympathies.
Oh god. I knew him only from reading what he contributed here, and some of the links above, but... god. This is a tragedy. I'm so sorry.
That's a stinking god damned shame.
He'll be missed, his memory cherished, and his loved ones cared for in thier grief.
Shit.
...
My sympathy to his friends and loved ones.
(I never met him in person, and now I'm feeling depressed because I never will, and from the sparkle in his written voice -- here and elsewhere -- he was someone I really wanted to meet.)
That is indeed terrible news. I only knew him through his writing, but *man* what a writer. I'm a long time fan, and one of the best things about this board for me was his presence.
Please pass along condolences to his family. Is anyone taking up a collection to send flowers or some such?
I was holding it together until I read this:
I keep thinking that Mike would know the right thing to say about all this.
Just so.
Regarding Mike's longtime companion Elise Matthesen: her LiveJournal is here. She will probably be ground zero for memorials, arrangements, and so forth.
Words fail me, though they never did him.
Is it terrible to mourn, at this moment, that we'll never see another Ford book? That that long, terrible wait is now extended forever?
I never met him in person -- exchanged emails once or twice -- but felt, as I suppose we all do with writers whose work we love, that I knew him from his books.
Good lord, what a loss. I knew him only through his books and his posts here, which were more than enough to reveal his astonishing wit and deep humanity. I'd had been looking forward to meeting him in person.
I only knew him through his writing-- his books and his posts here-- but he was right at the top of the list of fabulous writers I wanted to meet face-to-face someday.
Condolences to those who knew him well, and sympathy to everyone else who'll never have the chance to.
Mike did more to help me get over my fear of talking to people I admire than anyone else, and I never got the chance to say thank you. I just always assumed I'd trip across him, again, and be able to say...
He was an amazing man, and I'm so grateful he graced the constellations of my sky, if ever so briefly years ago.
To say he will be mourned is the worst sort of understatement, where you wish there were better words to convey what you feel, but there simply aren't.
Like others here... "Oh, no. Oh, crap."
And like others here, I never met him in person, but hoped I would have the chance someday.
No.
Mike is irreplaceable.
I always assumed -- hoped -- there would be more warning than this.
Why did a brilliant, endlessly creative mind have to be attached to a fragile body?
I always found Mike intimidatingly erudite, yet he always put me at ease conversationally. He was the kind of guy who would drop strings of joking references from everywhere into his conversation, but if you said you didn't know what he was talking about, he would cheerfully explain. His knowledge spanned, so far as I could tell, all areas, from popular culture to high culture, history to science; I always wondered how he'd found the time to know so much. It was as though he crammed multiple lives into one. It all came out in his writing, too. He was multiple writers in one. We've been reading him again over the last several days. There's a passage in The Scholars of Night about the grief of a young girl whose special uncle has committed suicide after being forbidden to see her anymore; it always makes me cry, and it will be worse now.
I don't know where to stop. This is terrible for so many people. And it's terrible for Making Light, terrible for the science fiction community.
There was nobody like him. It's not an exaggeration. We've lost one of our most fundamental people. I didn't know him as well as dozens of other people did, but he was a friend, too.
Goodbye, Mike.
There is something much amiss in a world that can so readily hold itself too full of poets.
Praise ale when it is drunk, ice when it is crossed, a friend on the pyre...
I've never commented before, but have read for a couple of years now. My condolences to you all.
He was a gentleman and a true artist. Grief has no words and can only stutter.
I will miss his comments here. The song in your first link is utterly amazing. Time to go read some of the others.
Oh,... he was a thoughtful and witty writer and will be sorely missed. The Dragon Waiting is my favorite.
I only ever knew him through this community; as such, I echo: "damn; damn." Condolences to his families, of all sorts, and his friends.
Oh no, this is terrible. I only met him in person briefly and enjoyed reading him here. My thoughts go out to everyone he touched and most especially Elise. May his memory live forever unwithered.
My condolences to his family and friends.
We've been on a Ford rereading binge here lately -- Heat of Fusion is open behind me, I just finished rereading Fugue State and The Scholars of Night -- and yesterday, in my book of blessings, I'd written his name.
What a blessing he was, to the community, to the world.
God, this sucks. How can there not be a Mike Ford any more? As you said, yes, we knew he was poor health, and we should have expected it, and maybe we did, but we didn't and it's wrong and it's horrid.
I don't remember which book it was, but in the acknowledgments to one he thanked his doctor for "keeping the lights on." That phrase was so very him. A few words perfectly chosen that conveyed a whole range of emotions, a whole range of truths.
His books? His stories? His posts? Yes, yes, and yes. I'm also going to miss his chatter about 50's TV shows I never wanted to see. And wondering if we'll show up in Las Vegas and I'll get to talk to him for a couple of hours.
A couple of hours...
Does anyone else remember Pele, the Brazilian soccer player? Someone once analyzed how much time in a game he actually had the ball, and it was a few seconds. He could change the whole complexion of a game, just touching the ball for those few seconds.
I think about how long I spent, total, in Mike's company, and it only adds up to a few score of hours. Those few hours are filled with chewing matter for the brain, and laughter, and occasonally the awe that comes from being in the presence of genius--a word a don't use lightly.
Maybe a year from now I will start to accept how much richer my life is for there having been a Mike Ford in it, but now I can only hurt.
My father died last night. I was OK with it. He was ready to die and so I came to work. I was OK. Then I checked my e-mail and got the message from Elise. I'm glad it was from her and that I didn’t see it somewhere else first. But now I'm stuck at work and feeling very upset. I was going to go to see Mike this summer but one of my other friends convinced me to go and see her instead. I thought about calling him last night but then I got the call to go to my father's deathbed. I have an appointment to see my UU minister this afternoon about church business, but I'm afraid she's going to be counseling me instead.
I know he was loved my many people. He will be sorely missed. I wonder what will happen with the book he was working on. He let me read part of it, and he was going to send me an update. I think about all the things we all leave undone. There just is never enough time.
Condolences to everyone and especially Elise.
I have no words. Damn, I'm going to miss you, Mike.
I never really knew him, but the universe shouldn't be allowed do this to people I care for - take their friends away so suddenly and cruelly. What can I say? His was a life worth living, the best kind, where people love you and miss you. But this won't help those who are grieving now.
Great giants hugs to everybody who feels the world emptier and duller and more hurtful. I wish had had better words for you, my friends.
How awful.
My thoughts are with you.
Echoing everyone else, damn.
I knew Mike Ford before I knew who he was, as a student working in the library at Indiana University. I processed his overdue fines, which is kind of a black humor, wake-ish thing to remember. But I wondered what on earth he was doing with such a vast number of unrelated books on so many different topics. When I met him again here and realized he was both that Mike Ford and the author of several very enjoyable Star Trek books, well -- it all came together and I started looking for his other books too.
It will make it that much more poignant to read his books now and know I can't ask him about anything in them.
Baruch Dayan HaEmet (Blessed be the true judge). I only talked with him once, at a readercon, but I've been a fan of both his writing and his doings at cons for a long time. He will be badly missed.
In paradisum deducant te Angeli; in tuo adventu suscipiant te martyres, et perducant te in civitatem sanctam Jerusalem. Chorus angelorum te suscipiat, et cum Lazaro quondam paupere æternam habeas requiem.
Now Aspects will never be finished. I've been reading it in segments over the years as it's been written. It's a dense, inventive fantasy novel set in a highly original universe, and has (was going to have) (damn it) a fiendishly complicated plot.
Mike's witty signature lines at Pyramid always had me chuckling, at the very least. I'm grateful that, for a time, I had a job that gave me an excuse to swap mail with Mike. I didn't know him nearly as well as some of y'all, to my regret. I wish I'd gotten to meet him in person.
I only knew him a bit, through his writing, and that was wonderful. The world is a bit darker for this loss. My sympathies to all who knew him better.
Words fail, all I can do is cry.
I'm really going to miss him.
I'm just stunned. Like so many others, I only knew him from his books and from here, but you could always count on Mike for insight and that touch of genius that reminded us of what draws us to this community we share. It somehow seemed a bygone conclusion in my mind that someday I would meet him face-to-face and be all the better for it.
He will be sorely missed.
To: Janet Brennan Croft
It might not have done you any good to ask him anyway. I did and the answers were sometimes so enigmatic that I still didn’t know what he meant.
But to his credit he was always ready to explain and always ready to help. The best thing about Mike is that he was always ready to lend a hand, always ready to come to someone's aid in any way he could.
I'm terribly shocked and sorry. Who's going to turn the perfect epigrams now?
Gigi, Janet: editing Mike was a long, humbling process of saying, over and over, "Okay, Mike, you lost me on that one ..."
I understood that he hadn't expected to make it even this long. I can see the expression on his face, somewhat toward a giggle, as he describes the situation.
But I can't hear the words . . .
May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified (Cong. Amen.)
in the world that He created as He willed.
May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days,
and in the lifetimes of the entire Family of Israel,
swiftly and soon. Now respond: Amen.
(Cong Amen. May His great Name be blessed forever and ever.)
May His great Name be blessed forever and ever.
Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled,
mighty, upraised, and lauded be the Name of the Holy One, Blessed is He
(Cong. Blessed is He)
beyond any blessing and song,
praise and consolation that are uttered in the world. Now respond: Amen.
(Cong. Amen)
May there be abundant peace from Heaven, and life
upon us and upon all Israel. Now respond: Amen.
(Cong. Amen)
He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace,
upon us and upon all Israel. Now respond: Amen.
(Cong. Amen)
His memory for a blessing.
Just his three men in a bar joke still makes my head hurt.
I'll miss him. I didn't know him well, but we've been exchanging hellos and chatting back and forth for years at WisCon and other places.
"of comfort no man speak: let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; make dust our paper and with rainy eyes write sorrow on the bosom of the earth..."
Richard II
The NY Times recently ran a piece on what Mozart might have done if he'd lived to a ripe old age. I'm feeling that way about Mike, now. This is the first time a post on "Making Light" has brought me to tears. Ave atque vale!
My condolences to his family and friends.
I always looked forward to his posts here, and sought out his books on that basis. Sometimes, I’d see a long patch of verse and know that I’d have no time to read it and appreciate it so I’d save it for later. I suppose that later is now.
Thanks Mike, and even though I never met you, I’ll miss you.
The world feels a little smaller all of a sudden, on another fine blue autumn morning.
And I will go back to work in a little while, work that may in some very small way help make things better.
My sympathies to those of you who knew him well, his loved ones.
I've had a few hours to get used to this now, and I still can't. My first reaction stands: "No."
I have long been grateful to know him. We were lucky to have such a friend, if for too short a time.
But now the road seems harder. I don't know what to do.
A terrible thing to read first thing in the morning. Peace, and a wish that we'll see him again in the Web of Angels (whatever we may be at that time).
Oh, sh*t!
But maybe the Muses need a tenth for something.
Oh shit. This is so unfair.
We shared a birthday (date, not year) and had exchanged silly greetings ever since discovering this coincidence at Minicon in 1998. From his last email to me, a few weeks ago:
Curious Facts Dept.: circumstances not interesting enough to recount caused me to look up some data on Evelyn Waugh the other day. Were you aware that he died on our birthday, back in '66? At least that means I can't have been him in a past life, which is strangely reassuring.
Goodbye, Mike.
Dammit, I want the rest of Aspects. And more time with Mike. The universe is not arranged to my benefit, and I understand that. It certainly was not arranged to Mike's.
I will miss him.
So very sorry to hear such sad news.
Here's wishing you all a little ease in the days ahead.
I knew Mike back from our 1970s college days at Indiana University when he and I and my ex wife were all in the Science Fiction Club, SCA, and played D&D (back when it was a Chainmail errata sheet) and steam tunnel LARPS (with frisbies and water guns). We drifted apart and although there were some close calls, had never managed to reconnect. Now we never will. Mike loved the whole idea of parallel universes and just maybe there is someplace where we are still meeting every weekend to playtest the newest game or hike to the midnight showing of the newest live action hero debut.
I'm..."bereft" seems like both too much, when compared to what those who were closer to him have lost, and too little, when compared to what we all have lost.
I count myself very fortunate to have had the chance to meet him, and to spend what little time I did in conversation with him.
I wasn't crying. Not yet. Because last week, we lost Charlie Grant, and I was still getting used to that.
So this was bad news, but I was still in the shock/processing stage.
But now I'm crying.
I can barely imagine a world without Mike in it, and now I have to live in one.
It doesn't seem right.
I never knew the man.
I only read a couple of his books.
I love that poem.
I hear that he's gone, but I see him smiling, about to say something especially clever that will make us all laugh.
I hate this.
My wife, smartly, got me the Infernokrusher sonnet mug for my birthday this summer, and I have it here with me at work. A small, good thing during a grey day.
What a talented writer, so quick with epigram or parody! I'll miss his voice terribly.
This was not my first choice for how to wake up this morning. Or any morning, really. Crap.
Damn. Damn and blast.
It's been several years since I talked with Mike (and mostly listened) and the topics of those talks have faded from memory. The feeling of enjoying the conversation, though, lingers on.
Blast.
Not fair. Not fair!
*************************
Lord, who enters your dwelling, an honored guest?
Who wins your hand clasp, sister and brother?
The just one, who walks steadfast in truth
whose tongue is a wildfire contained
who sows no dissension abroad
who honors the upright, despises the double deal
who turns the blood of the poor to no base deed
whose word is bond, whose oath is adamant...
Psalm 15
Daniel Berrigan, Uncommon Prayer
*********************************
Go in joy, Mike.
I met him through his work and finally in person in 2004. He was a wonderful person and one I feel I can call friend because of who he was, a warm, friendly humorous intelligent person that touched more lives than he could imagine. He he had a great imagination.
Flickr photofeed: tag JohnMFord. Right now it's our pix from Boskone plus a few more by other people. If you tag your photos JohnMFord on Flickr, they will show up here.
Oh hell and damn. He was just posting the other day! Dammit, dammit, dammit.
I only met him once, but his online whimsey has brightened many a day of mine. And for "110 Stories" alone, he'll be remembered. He definitely "got it" in a way few others have.
Sorely, sorely missed. Damn.
This isn't going to hit me until the next time there's a thread where I think, "Hmmm, about time for a poem to show up"...and it doesn't.
Then again, maybe this has already happened.
"The air, the water, the background radiation, your guess is as good as mine."
Oh dear. And eep. And sorrows.
---L.
I first remember seeing Mike doing the "Ask Dr. Mike" show at Minicon, and being blown away by it. Leter I discovered that he was a brilliant writer and a gentle & generous human being.
Mike, you will be sorely missed.
Hmm
Dr. Mike, how many angels?
I didn't know about Charlie Grant's death. I don't get Locus, and we had lost touch over the years, but he was one of my first friends in sf. We spent many wonderful hours together in the 70s, when we were young and foolish and carefree.
Now I have two deaths to mourn. Oh, shit.
I became a fan of his when I read The Final Reflection. I became more of a fan when I read The Yellow Clearance Black Box Blues. After that, I devoured everything of his I could find. I was always delighted to read his posts here. I never really knew him, and he certainly didn't know me, but I find his passing has cut deep.
I've been looking at this thread, refreshing it from time to time, since it had 20-something posts this morning because I have no idea how to say this without sounding really silly next to everyone here who knew Mr Ford personally, or who met him, or who at least had some sort of exchange with him as a regular here at Making Light (myself being somewhat of a lurker), but now I decided I'll just go ahead and sound silly.
When I was about 13, I started reading Trek novels. Some were bad, some were good, but only one left a lasting impression on me. It was the first time that a book made me laugh hysterically, and I'm sure you guessed it already, it was "How much for just the planet".
Fast-forward twelve years. I've just recently started looking for good sci-fi/fantasy novels again--mostly by stumbling over things through this blog. After reading one of those very enlightening/amusing/amazing posts by Mr Ford, I decide to go and see who this guy is.
And suddenly I'm a 13 year old boy again, for a moment, laughing about McCoy seeing a ghost which asked him to boldly go where no man has gone before.
For a moment I considered writing Mr Ford a sort of horribly late fan-email. Silly idea, I decided, it's not like he's suddenly going to go away--and then I went ahead and did it anyway. I am now very happy I did, if only for the small chance that he actually read it.
I told him in that mail that I would buy "The Last Hot Time" and report back to him how I liked that, because 13 years was actually too much time for me to remember exactly what I liked so much about "How much for just the planet?". I did buy it, and I did read it, and I enjoyed it immensely, even though the end came too soon, but I was waiting to read it again so I could form a better opinion of it (and also solve some of the remaining puzzles) before I'd write him a second piece of fan-mail.
And then I come here and see this post and think for a desperate second that they must mean some OTHER John M. Ford. He couldn't have died a few weeks after I discovered him!
I finished "The Last Hot Time" a second time last night. And once again it was good, and once again the end came too soon.
Requiescat in pacem. May he rest in peace.
I also only knew him from his poetry and hist posts here. But I can feel how the lights dimmed for many people, sense that they dimmed for me too, and grieve for it. My condolences to those close to him; may he rest in peace.
Damn. Hole in the universe fits. Too well.
Like some others here, I only knew him through his posts. He made me think about being prepared for ... well, anything. And he made me laugh and cry. Making Light will seem darker for a time.
Carrie S. at 110: I've been reading the comments on "The End of Author Productivity" daily, waiting and hoping for something there to strike his fancy. Dammit.
Sometime last week I'd stumbled across a post in Elise's Livejournal (containing the word "mammalversary") that made me smile, at a time when that was what I needed. Dammit.
I know there's nothing I can do, but my sympathies go out to those affected.
"Word fail me (the poor craftsman blames his tools)" --John M. Ford, "Chromatic Aberration"
My own valediction:
May you walk in joy in the Isle of Apples.
May you find peace in the Summerland.
Walk in beauty, Mike.
I never knew him except through his books and what he posted here. His erudition, wit, and humour were all consistently impressive. I am deeply grateful to the fates that I was able to encounter him here. It may truly be said that the world is today a poorer place.
Like many, I only knew him from his (brilliant, clever, funny, erudite) posts and poetry here. I was planning on picking up some of his books to read on my upcoming vacation. I am so sorry that he is gone.
Requiem aeternum dona eis, Domine. Et lux perpetua luceat eis.
I'm sorry to hear this. I liked his commentary here at Making Light and will miss it.
(I knew his name from fandom, although I don't believe I ever met him. I stay on the fringes and it's a long time since I went to a con.)
what can one say at a time like this?
best wishes on the next voyage ....
Oh, no.
I knew him only through his writing and his posts here, but those things added so much that there seems to be a hole where he should be, even just on the internet. It seems impossible that he'll never write another wonderful post or hilarious comment. How can it be?
It seems so wrong that the people who bring so much good into the world have to leave it too soon.
My sympathy to all who knew and loved him.
He wrote one of my favorite novels of all time, The Dragon Waiting. Now he won't write us any more fine works. Sigh. Goodbye, dear man!
Gigi, condolences on losing your dad.
How Much for Just the Planet has been a favorite book of mine for nearly 20 years. My heart goes out to Elise and everyone here.
I may be the 50 gazillionth to say this but ...
damn.
I *loved* his work, and always looked forward to whatever would come next.
He is sadly missed :-(
I knew him only through his poetry, and that's loss enough. Many sympathies to those who've lost a friend as well.
My sympathies and thoughts are with all of his friends and loved ones.
With some trepidation I submit the following which I wrote just now. It isn't as good as I'd like it to be.
today with sorrow our good friend mike ford
has gone untimely to his final rest
the waiting dragon fallen on a sword
we feel the need for a final falling chord
to honour both the humour and the zest
today with sorrow our good friend mike ford
of swift verse master and of prose a lord
has sailed in quiet unto the utter west
the waiting dragon fallen on a sword
the movement's done the final page is scored
the sentiments appropriately expressed
today with sorrow our good friend mike ford
is gone and we can now but ill afford
the anger and the forlorn soul's unrest
the waiting dragon fallen on a sword
and now the closing, now the final word
with sadness spoken and with grief oppressed
today with sorrow our good friend mike ford
the waiting dragon fallen on a sword
Irreplaceable (adj) impossible to replace. ex: John M. Ford.
No more Ask Dr. Mike.
For those of you who never got to see it: "Ask Dr. Mike" was Mike Ford in a white lab coat, standing in front of a chalkboard, taking questions from the audience. It was hysterically funny. I think the moment I remember best was the time an explanation of his about elections veered, as seamlessly as an Escher illusion, from politics to theology. I glanced around the audience and realized you could play "Spot the Presbyterian", because all of them were laughing so hard they were falling out of their chairs.
When I did programming for Minicon, the rule I worked out was that there was no use scheduling anything against Ask Dr. Mike.
Other things about Mike:
He had naturally weird eyebrows. They had vertical tufts in the middle that got longer as he aged. Looked like something out of anime.
He was was passionately into model building and theatre. He loved trains.
If you were sitting near Mike during a panel or conversation, and someone asserted that thus-and-such maneuver was impossible in fiction, you could practically hear the gears start going going 'round in his head.
More anon. Have to add some stuff to the main post.
Damn. I never got to meet him...
"Good night, sweet prince--
May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest..."
If you had asked me if I would cry when I heard the news, I probably would've said, "Probably." The correct answer would've been, "Definitely."
I saw him just one or two times, at conventions. I never spoke with him. I admired him desperately and furiously.
I started with reading _Just the Planet_ in a Crown Books, because I couldn't justify spending my allowance on it. After a while, I started to worry they'd throw me out -- not for finishing a book in the store; for laughing too loudly.
I finish, as a lot of us have, by waiting for _Aspects_.
"I do not approve. And I am not resigned."
Sarah S.: Exactly. The same thought hit my mind, too.
Here's the whole thing for anyone who might find comfort in it.
One thing that's impressed me, in my year or so of reading Making Light, was the agility, speed and breadth of Mike's mind. These are the people you always want to meet, just to enjoy the sparks.
Now this one I can't. And there won't be any more moments here where I either yell "yes!" or want to leap through the screen and throttle the guy for being so brilliant.
But I've still got *lots* to read, and _The Dragon Waiting_ and _The Scholars of Night_ to reread. (And even a bunch of
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