I Grieve For Fictional Characters and the Authors Who Created Them

Phyllis Whitney, whose surprise endings surprised me every single time, died last Friday. She was 104.

I have every single Phyllis Whitney book, and I re-read them all the time. She was a masterful story-teller. Her novels were set all over the world, and whenever I read one, I got far more than just a superb mystery with a mind-blowing shocker of a surprise ending; I also got a geography lesson, a lesson in regional cooking, and a life-lesson of some kind.

Phyllis Whitney’s “Silverhill” was the first grown-up book I ever read.

Two of my favorite authors have died in the past few months: Madeleine L’Engle and now Phyllis Whitney. I counted on a new novel from both of these wonderful writers every year. What will I do now? I don’t care for bestsellers, and J.K Rowling has ended the Harry Potter series.

Dying. . . dying. . .moving on with her life. . . . don’t these people love me?

Mamacita, Scheiss Weekly