June 03, 2010

Diana Wynne Jones "not at all well." If you grew up speaking English, odds are that before you were twenty you read at least one book by brilliant and prolific authoress Diana Wynne Jones. Now she has, according to this month's Ansible, decided to "abandon chemotherapy [...] and resign herself to whatever may follow."

A glance at the Autobiography on Ms Jones's site explains why she is so very good at writing about the uncanny discomforts of youth. She is a master magician, and I look forward to reading her latest work, Enchanted Glass. I hope that any readers of hers on this site will join me in sending good wishes.

posted by Pallas Athena 13 years ago
  • Nooooo! A marvellous woman and an inspirational writer. One of those rare 'children's' authors whose work is just as enchanting when read as an adult. Sending every good wish her way.
  • Not fair. Pratchett and now Jones.
  • Oh no...nononono... I came to her books pretty late (in my twenties), and I can't get enough of them. I can only hope a miracle will happen, and if not, that she is not in pain.
  • Dammit.
  • OK, here is my Wynne Jones story. I randomly ended up attending the Cheltenham Literary Festival, and a talk by Ms Jones. She gave pithy advice, told hilarious stories about her Travel Jinx, talked about her writing process and laid out the structure of the multiverse. Then she took questions. I was fortunate enough to get called on, and I told her how much The Tough Guide To Fantasyland had made me laugh, and asked her if there were any fantasy clichés she particularly disliked. She said "Well, I was just recently reading something by Lloyd Alexander," [here she explained who Lloyd Alexander was; I'd grown up on him, so nodded raptly] "...and it suddenly occurred to me, I hate wise old men!" Since that day, whenever I run across a wise old man in fantasy, I hear her words and smile wickedly.
  • .
  • From this month's Ansible:
    Diana Wynne Jones on the mysterious consequences of giving up chemotherapy: 'I am at present confounding medics by apparently getting better. Two of my most prominent growths have vanished away, much to the astonishment of doctors, who had so confidently expected me to be dead by now that they came and stuck enigmatic messages on my front door (like Passover in reverse) telling the morgue folk where the notes on me were. I'm wondering whether to peel the things off. Or is this Too Good to Last? Personally, I put this down to Red Wine. [In short ...] I am currently having a slow motion miracle. This strikes me as peculiar – but welcome.' (email, 15 September)
  • YEAH!! I know there's another book that needs to be written.
  • Rest in peace, Mrs Jones. Our world sadly moves a little to Nayward.