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Wednesday 17 February 2016

Dear Ellena

Lucy's just e-mailed me to say Ellena's died. With more time at this end (ironically there are doctors and hospitals to visit) I could have done better. Should have done better. Here's my comment.

O hell's bells. That's hard to take. And perhaps that's a measure of what Ellena meant to me; that I should immediately behave so selfishly without a thought for you and the rest who have lost so much. But then I can't help it; I can't of course hear her voice but believe me her writing was a wonderful ambassador on her behalf.

Her aim was to be modest, to go beyond modesty almost to invisibility. And she failed as she - a subtly intelligent person if ever there was one - must have known she would. Often her talk was of the smallest domestic matters but shaped in a way that made them glitter. Her style of writing seemed artless but it was the best kind of art - serving the subject never herself.

She said it took ages to come up with comment. At first sight I thought this was an ingenious excuse but quite quickly I knew it was the truth. Sometimes she'd leave less than ten words with me but the indirect angle and the lack of a single unnecessary word were unmistakably her.

One thing I can be proud of: I wasn't about to let her extraordinary skills go uncelebrated. Over and over I told her I was on to her; that no one who wrote as well as she did it for any other reason than a love of language.

And finally - how I hate that word - she brought her style to bear on a very big subject, her masterpiece: "The geriatric care wing of a pavilion attached to a nearby hospital" in April last year. A deliberately cumbersome title for a series of visits she made to old people. Here's how the first visit ends:

I push the glass softly against his mouth and slip a straw between his lips.    Glass empty..... his eyes still closed. 

I feel triumphant.

As well she might.

Although I've done this before I feel I must do it it again. EB White's children's book, Charlotte's Web, ends with a tribute I cannot better:

It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte (and Ellena) was (were) both.

6 comments:

  1. Oh Robbie. Your words about our dearest Ellena are so true. I find my eyes going all blurry again. I miss her so much.

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  2. I can echo every word of your tribute.

    I discovered only last night that Ellena was gone and it was like being punched in the chest. She made such a deep impression, with all the qualities you describe, and it was impossible to think of her as a far away stranger. Somehow, even though we only recently learned that she was ill, I thought she'd still be here indefinitely. I clickd on her blog as usual, expecting her to be there.

    Dear Ellena, wherever you are, you know that you are loved.

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  3. She was not well known to me but I am sorry fro your obvious heartfelt loss.

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  4. All: Thanks for that. It's good to be part of a group, not usually one of my day-to-day sentiments. But let's remind ourselves of something I forgot. Ellena was fun. Is fun, damnit. Viz:

    Tweezer-style is the only way I know to eat them (ie, mussels). Here the large mounds of oysters are served in wide deep plates. Lots of space to manipulate the contents. $20. gets you 'all you can eat'. I pig out on three servings each in a different sauce.

    PS "Hop" comment last post referred to photo showing one-legged RR.


    Oh yes, she likes to be gnomic too.

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  5. How right you are! I was reading back over the comments she left on all our blogs and found myself smiling over and over.

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