I’ve struggled how to begin this post…
My friend, mentor and inspiration – Tanith Lee – died on Sunday. I got the news today (Tuesday). I knew she’d been ill for a while. She sent me a letter some weeks ago – we usually talked on the phone regularly, but her cancer treatment had affected her voice, so we could no longer do that. In the letter she told me she was dying. I sat there, the paper in my hand, unable to take it in, not sure what to feel or to think. This was a woman who’d inspired me all my writing life and had eventually – through luck and circumstance – become a dear friend. How do you reply to a letter like that without sounding clichéd or over sentimental? It was difficult. I was under the impression that although her prognosis was poor, she’d still have some time with us. Only last week, she was working on the edits I’d sent for her latest book with Immanion Press. I had no idea the end would be so close.
But while it’s in the hearts of all those who loved Tanith to grieve and mourn, we should also remember all that was wonderful about her, the way she touched our lives.
I remember being in W H Smiths and seeing the newly released ‘The Birthgrave’ on the fantasy shelves. I picked it up, browsed the pages a little, and was immediately taken with Tanith’s engaging first person narrative. I bought it, devoured it, and subsequently bought everything else she ever wrote, in some cases tracking down very hard to find small press titles in the days before the Internet made such searches less difficult.
At that time, Tanith was the same age I was when I first got published – around 26. There was a 10 years age gap between us. I wrote her a fan letter after reading a few of her books, and she replied, sending me a photo. I still have that letter. Over the years, my collection of her books grew, and then I reached the stage in my life when my own writing began to be published. I asked people in the industry about Tanith, curious about her, but at that time she didn’t attend conventions and was regarded as rather retiring. This changed in 1988 when I met her at a Worldcon in Brighton. She was charming, not at all the terrifying creature I’d been given to believe she was.
It has to be said that many reports I’d been given about Tanith over the years painted her as a ‘difficult’ author. This was from editors who’d worked with her. She was regarded as rather fearsome. But I have to say that when I eventually had the privilege of working with her as an editor, I never had one difficult moment with her. I think this was because I respected her work and didn’t try to change it. When I was editing, I’d mark things I thought were typos, and query them, but I’d never try to meddle with her ‘voice’. Sometimes, her sentences were unconventional, but they were hers – her voice – which I recognised, because I’d read everything she’ d ever written. So I didn’t interfere. When we began working together, I saw it as a partnership. I provided the publishing, but we worked together on the appearance of the books and their covers, most often incorporating artwork from her husband, John Kaiine (a wonderful artist) or even drawings or ideas from Tanith herself. I let Tanith have free rein with the content. This was an enjoyable experience for the three of us.
When Tanith first asked if Immanion Press would be interested in taking some of her work, I was – as you can imagine – over the moon about it. She wanted to publish a series of books that didn’t fit into any particular genre. These were the Colouring Book series, which are thrillers, mysteries, supernatural stories and even one spy story. Sad to say, Tanith didn’t finish this series. She still had a couple of colours she wanted to write about, but even so, we published seven of these titles. Her other interest was in publishing themed collections of her stories, which we’d just begun working on, with the Ghosteria collection, and latterly with Legenda Maris, stories of the sea. Tanith had other titles she planned to do involving werewolves, vampires and dragons, but sadly these will not see light of day now, since she always included unpublished stories in her collections and wasn’t able to write any before she died. We had an arrangement: whatever she wanted to publish, Immanion Press would see to it. This enabled her to produce titles that otherwise might not have been published, although to be fair, I think any of the independent presses who supported her would have been happy to help out. People like Ian Whates, Vera Navarian and Craig Gidney, along with myself, (and others whose names unfortunately I don’t know), were eager to publish and promote Tanith’s work, in a time when big publishers just weren’t interested in it. This was unforgiveable by them. So much trash gets published, and we see constantly the lesser writers who are launched into success and prominence. It’s not about what’s good, but about spin and PR. So many excellent authors, who were active when I was first published, fell by the wayside – and they shouldn’t have done. They gave up in the face of great indifference from the major publishers. The only reason I’ve survived is because I took the bit between my teeth and created my own publishing house. It’s interesting that nearly all the independent presses who’ve supported Tanith in recent years are run by people who are writers themselves. We’ve never had any sense of competition between us, because we all loved and respected Tanith, and she was respectful of us all too. There was plenty of her to go around. In fact, in some cases she brought us together. I wouldn’t know Craig and Vera if it wasn’t for Tanith making the introductions.
I was also lucky to republish John Kaiine’s remarkable novel ‘Fossil Circus’. I wish he’d write more! This would never have happened if I’d not met the pair of them.
So, apart from our professional connections, what was Tanith like as a person? To me, she was wry, wise and magical. If I had a problem, talking to her would make sense of it. She was the archetypal British eccentric – a dying breed, sadly. When I was down, she would lift me up. She’d enable me to see things from a different perspective, always with a touch of humour. We’d bitch about things we didn’t like and applaud films, books and writers we both adored. It’s only now, once she’s gone, I realise how much a part of my life she had become. I took her for granted, but in a good way. Now I’ll never get those lovely phone calls in the afternoons, when we’d fritter away an hour or so just nattering.
In a way, Tanith will never be gone, because her work lives on and is eternal. This evening, I felt tired and lay down on the sofa in my work room. Cats joined me, as they tend to do. I dreamed of Tanith, and in that dream, we were both on the sofa, surrounded by cats – more than I actually live with. She was warm and breathing, and even in my dream I marvelled at that, because I knew she was dead. She didn’t say anything ponderous to me; we just chatted as we always did. What are dreams? Wishful thinking, a glimpse of another reality, or something else? I don’t know, but the dream comforted me, and I awoke from it feeling less distraught than I was when I went to sleep.
I don’t want Tanith to Rest In Peace, as is always said of someone who leaves this life. I want her to be soaring somewhere else, somewhere amazing, beyond our comprehension. I’m glad to have known her, and glad also that her work will always be there for me. Such are the brightest stars that shine upon us.
I read her book, The Silver Metal Lover, some time ago was impressed by it. I didn’t even know that she was dying from cancer. That has got to be the suckiest way to go. Not by natural means but by something that which robs a person of their life prematurely and is never given back.
It seems as though we are losing a lot of talented people lately. From Tanith Lee to Leonard Nimoy. It just seems like a never ending road of loss and despair.
But I’m glad that she was able to leave something of herself behind–even though she was never able to finish what she started. But in layman’s terms, we rarely do.
Of course, it’s not always what we leave behind that is important. What we are most remembered for. But how we lived our lives.
After reading this, I get the sense that she lived a remarkable life for someone so gifted.
So this has given me a lot to think about–being the consummate pessimist and all.
my Mother introduced me to the wonderful works of Tanith Lee and her works and her spirit will soar high and bring joy to new readers and old.
Beautiful words for a beautiful, magical lady, an inspiration and bench mark for writing of the very highest quality. Tanith was unique, her prose exquisite however dark the territory. Her legacy a treasure trove of wonder, emotions and mysteries…
Thank you for this loving tribute. I have been a devotee of Tanith’s work for over 20 years, and the inspiration she provided to my own work is incalculable. She was truly the Grand Mistress of Fantasy, and her passing leaves a void that can never be properly filled. I never had the pleasure of meeting her in person (I probably would have been tongue-tied and overly smitten if I had), but I felt like I knew her from reading her books and stories over the years. Our only consolation is that her spirit will live on through her superb body of work. Here was a Storyteller. When comes such another?
I really discovered and appreciated Tanith Lee’s books when I came to live in this country (21 years ago) from France, where she is quite known. I remember reading The Birthgrave for the first time when was working in a rather depressing place and the novel simply illuminated my days. I carried on with the rest of the trilogy and the Storm Lord’s, revelling on the prose and the imagery. After that, I couldn’t get enough of her work. I once sent her one of my painting on a postcard and she wrote back a sweet thank-you note. I didn’t know at the time she was also a bit of an artist. I realised she was also gifted on that art medium when I saw the wonderful illustrations she did for Immanion, for the Tales of the Flat Earth and the Birthgrave,I have also in these editions. Very, very sad, I can barely believe she is gone and I missed not to have known her personally. I just wish she is somewhere where she can write her heart content her wonderful tales.
This is a beautiful tribute to Tanith Lee. I’ve been a devoted fan of hers for over 20 years, and even though we never met, this loss feels personal. It’s hard to believe that she will never again bless us with her words and visions. I wish she could! I wish she could tell us what she’s experiencing right now. Like you, I hope it is wonder-filled beyond belief.
What a great post and I am weepy after reading it. I’ve been reading Tanith and you since the beginning. I was so sad to hear about her death, to think that she was gone from this world and there would be no more stories. What a lovely tribute, so personal and emotional. I will always remember it, and I know it must have been very difficult for you. Bless you, Storm and good luck with your projects. I can’t wait to see Tanith’s backlist on e-bboks, especially the Flat Earth series.
I first read Tanith in the 80’s oh how I wish I could weave smoke!!! She was a wonder, a sorceress,saddened and departed! We loved you, xx
Thank you very much Storm for the beautiful, emotive memories and for sharing them with us. I’ve been reading Tanith’s work for well over 30 years and it’s very much a part of me now. Her work is unique and eternally inspiring and as with all great writing it just gets better with each re-reading. I corresponded very briefly with her in the early 1990s when I was putting together a booklet on her work for the British Fantasy Society and she was very gracious in providing me with what I asked for. It’s so very sad that she was taken so young, and my thoughts are with her family and friends, but I imagine her in Underearth, even now, in the palace of Azhrarn that lies in Druhim Vanashta, beyond the gates of agate and blue steel and black fire, playing some devious and wicked game with Night’s Master…
In 1987 I wrote the following poem with Tanith Lee very much in mind. If I may, I’d like to share it here as my small tribute.
Dreamer’s Soliloquy
I shall draw the night from out the west,
And wrap it about like a cloak;
I will coax dim shadows from haunted woods,
And plume my hair with their smoke.
I shall take the moon from the curving sky,
And hammer it into searing cold rings;
Take the burning gems of the sunset,
to set on their circlings.
I shall pluck the fruit of the pewter stars,
And let them flash upon my opal lips;
Take wild perfumes from midnight blooms,
Let fragrance flow from fingertips.
I shall weave the mists beneath sombre trees,
And dance with the moonlit wind;
Gather the roses on the tressle of dawn,
To which the gold silk sun is pinned.
I shall slip my hands into gloves of frost,
And envelope my feet in deep thunder;
Enpearl my face in the falling rain;
Then rest amidst this wonder… and rest amid this wonder.
I love Tanith Lee’s books and grieve for her. I read The Book of Paradys which is a unique genre of horror fiction. We will miss her.
I can’t believe I only found out about this now. It´s sad that such a great writer should be so invisible that a fan only finds out about her death more than six months later. I discovered Tanith Lee as a teenager with “When the lights go out” and that book is still one of my all-time favourites. She has so much brilliant work it’s a real shame she’s not better known. What a world 😦
Thank you for these wonderful words – they have moved me deeply.
My wife passed away from cancer recently. Tanith always reminds me of her. They shared that love of gothicness which seemed to come out of the late-80s-early90s, and they also shared the most amazing eyes. I am currently reading The Secret Books of Paradys – my wife Freya would have loved it and it’s one of Tanith’s best.