A close personal friend is gone
It's a sad day at On the House. I just learned that a brilliant and much-loved Canadian writer Paul Quarrington, a man I was proud to call a friend, has just died. I loved Paul's books - found him to be a darkly funny guy and sharp observer of the amusing animal we call man. He was a keen satirist, but not a mean-spirited one. Mostly, he was a beautiful writer who could handle words like a juggler. When I first met Paul, he was dating one of my best friends, Dorothy, who would later become his wife. Naturally, I read one of his books, Home Game. I fell in love with it. So when I went to a book launch for him, I insisted- although I barely knew him - that he sign my copy of the book "To my friend, Vicky", telling him I wanted it be worth something when he was a Really Famous Writer. Later I found out that someone else has asked for the same thing, so at the next book launch, I insisted upon him prefixing "my friend" with "close, personal" telling him as he was getting more famous, the signed books would be worth even more one day and I wanted to cash in on knowing the Great Man. I wouldn't part with those books for anything. If you, like me, were a fan of Paul's, you can honour his memory by supporting the Quarrington Arts Society, which Paul founded in the months before his death to encourage and promote artistic endeavor and achievement by Canadian artists and Canadian students of the arts who work, as did he, in more than one artistic discipline.