Tom Disch, 1940-2008

It has been reported that the extraordinary science-fiction writer, poet, and essayist Thomas M. Disch has died—he is said to have commited suicide on the 4th of July. He was 68.
The general public may know his best-known credit: He wrote the novella The Brave Little Toaster, which became the acclaimed 1987 Disney cartoon. But Disch also wrote ten science fiction novels and scores of short stories that placed him at the center of his genre for their uncommon literary adroitness, dry wit and clear-eyed skepticism. Go read the lyrically beautiful On Wings Of Song (1979) immediately, please. He also wrote a unique trilogy of mordant thrillers: The Businessman: A Tale of Terror (1984), The M.D.: A Horror Story (1991), and The Priest: A Gothic Romance (1994).
Disch's primary calling, however, was as a poet. He published a half-dozen collections characterized by a mastery of poetic form, and in 1995 published a collection of essays, The Castle of Indolence: On Poetry, Poets, and Poetasters, that overflowed with glowing appreciation and ruthless criticism of what he considered the best and worst tendencies in modern poetry. I kept it on my bedside table for periodic re-reading and inspiration.
I'll quote just one apercu among many from that collection that all critics would do well to heed: "The larger value of negative criticism—beyond the sigh of relief that 'At last someone has said it'—is that, without it, any expression of delight or enthusiasm is under suspicion of being one more big hug in that special-education classroom where poets minister to each others’ needs for self-esteem."
Others will doubtless comment on the importance of Disch’s poetry in this space; my small request is that you also read the full range of what Disch wrote and fully appreciate his art, craft, and passion. It was the failure of an audience to appreciate the scope of what Disch accomplished that, I'm willing to bet, was one cause of his sad, too-early death.

--Ken Tucker

Comments

[DL]

Thank you, Ken. Tom and I met back in 1979 and became fast friends. We collaborated on a number of poems and other projects. What a terrible blow; what an awful loss. A friend called me late last night with the dismal news. Tom's poetry is outstanding, much more appreciated in Britain than in the US, not to mention such great novels as "334," "On Wings of Song," and "Camp Concentration," and his interactive computer "novel" called "Amnesia," in which you, the player, wake up naked, penniless, and with no money in a hotel room on 59th Street in New York City.
Very sad.

[Don Share]

It's worth mentioning his most recent collection of poems, "About the Size of It," from Anvil Press. It was his first book of poems in a decade.

Though melancholy informs his work, I would urge people to read him, but not through the lens of his end. Who else spans the universe between the Brave Little Toaster and the M.D.? The latter has one of my favorite scenes: the immortal spirit of a spirited man is embodied in the flames of a fireplace (in order to prevent an amorous teenage couple on the couch nearby from producing an ill-omened offspring). But their passion inflames his nature, the fire roars up, and he is consumed. It's a deep scene, and metaphor for passions of all kinds. Let's remember Disch's passion for life and literature, and not reduce him to his death. We don't refer to "Wallace Stevens, stomach cancer victim." Disch sported the coolest tattoos I ever saw (one hot day as he strolled shirtless past Union Square), and a like imagination: eruptively creative and meticulously disciplined.

[Bill Cohen]

On January 15, 1999, I met Tom Disch at a coffee shop off of Union Square. I had called him out of the blue to see if he would sign some copies of The Best American Poetry (he appeared in five volumes, including "The Best of the Best") along with a copy of his book A Child's Garden of Grammar.

He agreed to meet me and we had a nice chat. He signed my books and he praised my chutzpah for cold-calling him, essentially, and asking if I had done this before.

I acknowledged that I had, citing a previous example. He seemed surprised that people were so trusting to do this and I said, "Well, the worse thing that can happen is they say no." He corrected me and said with a gleam in his eye: "Ah, not true. The worst thing they can do is fall in love with you."

Good point, and a day I still remember fondly. He shall be missed.

--Bill Cohen

[David Schloss]

The personification of great wit and great depth. I love his poetry. What a loss!