Yesterday I learned from Arnd Schneider that Richard Appignanesi was not well. I sent Richard an electronic-mail message at once, and I got his reply earlier today. He attached a letter he had written to his closest friends when he was diagnosed with lung cancer last summer. “Something for your great Proustian enterprise,” he quipped. “One of us will have to go first,” he started that letter soon after his lung operation. “My one goal is to return to work as soon as possible,” he said wistfully. “No point to fret or fume,” he concluded that letter. Now he is about halfway through radiotherapy and chemotherapy, which are to be completed this summer. The best I could do in my reply to his message was to tell him that I would be keeping my fingers crossed together with all his friends. “That must help a little,” I concluded tersely. And I meant every word of it, as witnessed by the knot in my throat. So, let Richard return to work as soon as possible. Amen.

Addendum (April 9, 2025)

Today I learned from Giuseppe Mastruzzo via electronic mail that Richard Appignanesi died yesterday. Sad news. After I replied to the message, I searched my Residua for Richard’s name, and I found quite a few pieces of writing, including this one. I was happy to find out that it was written eleven years ago. To wit, return to work had worked rather well. As I learned from the World Wide Web a short while ago, he was six years my senior. The longer I live, the more friends I lose. Farewell, dear Richard!