Ave atque vale, Octavia

A few days ago, science fiction writer Octavia Butler died after an apparent stroke. I didn't post anything when I first found out because, while I knew that she was significant to this my favourite genre, I knew this only in the same way I know Milton and Chaucer and such are significant writers: the abstract knowledge of the cultural canon; I haven't actually read them (well, that isn't true for Chaucer; I have read portions of the Tales, and studied The Book of the Duchess. My point about the Great Unread stands). I hadn't read her.

Or so I thought.

Browsing over her bibliography, I suddenly realised that I recognised two titles - a novelette, 'Bloodchild', and a short story, 'Speech Sounds'. My god. I loved these stories when I read them. They are two of the most powerful pieces of short(ish) fiction I've read - gorgeous, richly-crafted worlds, characters I cared about. It speaks for itself that just seeing the titles brought them back into my mind's eye. Octavia Butler was *that* writer.

And now she's gone.