From: Diablo1845@aol.com
Sent: Friday, April 28, 2000 7:06 AM
To: %20comments@goreyography.com
Cc: Diablo1845@aol.com
Subject: A word about Mr. Gorey (please post in tribute, if possible)

Though I thought that it would be a long way off, it happened. Mr. Edward St. 
John Gorey, who has given the world perhaps some of the most unusual and 
thought provoking stories recorded, has died of a supposed heart attack. When 
I received the news of his death, I slowly sat down and attempted to sort out 
what I had been told. Was it true? Was my favorite living author now among 
the deceased? " He couldn't have died," I said " I never got a chance to meet 
him". I had a sadness welling inside of me that was reminisant of the sadness 
felt when a grandfather dies. I remained in this stupor untill I began 
flipping through Amphigorey Also. When I finished it, I came to the 
realization that Gorey is not truely dead. For one to be truely dead, all 
memory of them would have vanished. But as any true Gorey fan knows, Gorey 
has given us over 90 stories and about 60 illustrations to enjoy for eons. 
How can we forget the Gashlycrumb Tinies or the Willowdale Handcar? Is it 
possible to allow The Doubtful Guest to collect dust? The answer is no, my 
friends, we cannot forget Mr. Gorey. So I tell anyone reading this letter, if 
you grow sad about Gorey's passing, Read The Utter Zoo Alphabet, or the Bug 
Book. That is where Gorey is now living, in between the pages of The 
Epileptic Bicycle and The Untitled book, The Sopping Thursday and L' Heure 
Bleue. He might be like the Zote, but Ogdred Weary is still very much alive 
in our hearts and minds.

Fare thee well, Mr. Gorey,

                            Evan Scomazzon