John Updike dies.

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NEW YORK -- John Updike, the Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, prolific man of letters and erudite chronicler of sex, divorce and other adventures in the postwar prime of the American empire, died Tuesday at age 76.

Updike, a resident of Beverly Farms, Mass., died of lung cancer, according to a statement from his publisher, Alfred A. Knopf.

A literary writer who frequently appeared on best seller lists, the tall, hawk-nosed Updike wrote novels, short stories, poems, criticism, the memoir "Self-Consciousness" and even a famous essay about baseball great Ted Williams.

An old-fashioned believer in hard work, he published more than 50 books in a career that started in the 1950s. Updike won virtually every literary prize, including two Pulitzers, for "Rabbit Is Rich" and "Rabbit at Rest," and two National Book Awards.
Source.

One of the most amazing men of letters passes on and leaves us all the worse for it. Worse because he is gone. Better because of his truly amazing writings. Right up there with Vonnegut on my 'worst deaths' list. So so sad.
 
Also dead today: Five children under the age of 10, two adults, one Iraqi civilian and several Zimbabweans.
 
Also dead today: Five children under the age of 10, two adults, one Iraqi civilian and several Zimbabweans.
I appreciate what you are saying. I don't like it, but I appreciate it.

That said, I still believe that the greater loss here is because of the death of a man who quite clearly touched millions and millions of people with his inspiring, thoughtful, funny, sad, and all around brilliant writing for half a century.
 
Crikey! Wait, wrong celebrity stealth.

Still, great loss. Drat, etc.
 
I was kinda hoping for
'John Updike dies... But is reanimated as a cyborg!'

Old awesome people should stop dying, really.
 
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