Mr. Rigney, of course, is better known to the world as Robert Jordan, the author of the worldwide best-selling fantasy series The Wheel of Time. He died yesterday at the age of 58, his last Wheel of Time novel unfinished.
I’m sad that he died without finishing what must be called his opus, but I’m not sad that he started it and got as far as he did. How many of us will create so much in our own lifetimes?
I’m glad I got to meet him. I’m glad I got to tell him that his books indirectly changed my life, by leading me to a strange new world called Usenet, and a group called rec.arts.sf.written.robert-jordan, where I made friends I still have today and will (I pray) always have, and went on adventures I never would have otherwise, and learned things that life ought to teach you but often doesn’t.
One may debate whether Robert Jordan’s work may be considered art. I certainly had my issues with it, as did many others, even as we read and reread and discussed and made FAQs about it.
The Wheel of Time may never be held up as a great classic of literature. But I’m not sure that’s particularly relevant. The purpose of art, in my opinion, is to create reaction. It is supposed to affect the recipient in some way, whether that way be joy, awe, shock, laughter, sadness, fury - whatever. It should create discussion, it should move people to feel about it. It should alter the viewer/reader/listener’s life, even if only in a tiny way.
By that criteria, the Wheel of Time has been one of the single most influential pieces of art in my life.
Requiscat in Pace , Mr. Rigney. You will be missed.
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