I’m was saddened to learn through twitter that one of my very favorite writers has passed away. A quick Google search turned up the verification of that tweet, and my heart sank.
For those of you who aren’t aware, David Rakoff was an amazing writer, tremendously funny and poignantly human. His writing style was best narrated in pieces offered to This American Life on NPR, as well as his own essays which I happily discovered on Audible.
His voice and writing spoke to me in a way that few other authors could. His painfully accurate portrayal of social anxieties and ludicrous situations that one finds themselves in were full of dry wit and were so startlingly articulate, it felt often as though I were living them myself.
He wrote about his struggles with cancer, the recurrence of which took his life at the very young age of 47. I was heartbroken to hear that he struggled with the decision to amputate his entire left arm and shoulder in the hopes that it might stave off the cancer. I honestly don’t know what I would have decided were I in his shoes.
But I instead focus on the memories I have of his writing, which got me through one hell of a commute as I was transitioning through my own life’s difficulties. His calming, snarky wit was a welcome voice in my ears as I navigated through traffic each night, not knowing exactly how I was going to get through this mess I had built for myself. I’d like to think his voice is still there, and in my hands as I type now, his legacy living on in the writers he inspired and the wonderful body of work he left behind.
To check out some of his work, please visit his Amazon page, you won’t be disappointed.