RIP Ed Bunker

Edward Bunker died yesterday at the age of 71, of complications after surgery to improve circulation to his legs.

When I read the obituary in the New York Times, I was not saddened -- I was angered. Angered that the universe had successfully succeeded in removing from me my last hero. My last role model. My last God.

The Times obituary title was: "Edward Bunker, Ex-Convict and Novelist, Is Dead at 71."

The Times obituary title should have been: "Edward Bunker, Novelist and Ex-Convict, Is Dead at 71."

The fact that Bunker was an ex-convict isn't even necessary. It isn't relevant. The fact that he was a great writer is.

Bunker's first novel, "No Beast So Fierce," was one of the greatest novels I have ever read. Nobody, and I mean nobody could articulate pathos in writing like Bunker.

Bunker might have been one of the most unrecognized novelists of the 20th century. He seemed to have stopped writing novels in favor of acting. I seemed to get the impression in an interview that he was disillusioned with writing because of the dismal sales of his last novel. But I always hoped that he'd write another novel.