Being offline from about 6pm onwards last night, I heard of Clarke’s death by phone instead of by internet, which is unusual these days. It also makes me late to the posting party.
Childhood’s End was one of my favorite books in high school. I remember reading it several times. There was something that resonated with me about the transformation of the children and their disassociation from the adult world that grew ever-wider.
I feel, today, as if some presence is missing; some part of the me I remember. No more Arthur Clarke. No more Madeline L’Engle. No more Lloyd Alexander. I can’t live on that planet anymore and that’s so strange.