On this Veterans Day, something caused me to wonder about the health of that Marine William Manchester. To my dismay, I discoverd that he died earlier this year. He had not been in good health. It looks like he had previously said that it was unlikely that he'd be able to complete the 3rd volume of his biography of Winston Churchill, a book longed for by anyone who read the first two. (well, there is at least some indication that his publisher may try to bring volume 3 to press in some fashion.)

Now if Manchester never wrote about Churchill or anything else, I would worship him for the slender, off-the-cuff history of the Rennaissance and Reformation A World Lit Only By Fire. I may have to go back and read the introduction this evening (wherein never have the Dark Ages been so entertainingly illuminated).

In the realm of literary mortality, I very sadly hear just now on the radio of the apparent suicide of Iris Chang.