Graham Joyce died on 9th September 2014 aged only 59. It is a monumental injustice.
I met Graham back in the very late 90s at a party. We’d been introduced earlier but I’m terrible with names and was overawed at being in the presence of so many amazing writers and industry folk. So, naturally, when we bumped into each other later in the evening, I called him ‘Pete’, because I’d confused him with Pete Crowther (I’ve never worked out why).
He stared at me with those extraordinary eyes of his and said. ‘James…’ (because he never forgot a face or a name). ‘I’m Graham. Pete’s the old bastard.’
Then we stood and talked about books and films and football, drank beer and became friends. Bless my poor name recollection.
I’m not going to go on about his extraordinary talent as a writer; just open one of his books on any page and that’s self-evident. I’d rather remember the man and the friend because he was a truly amazing human being.
Graham had such passion and he brought it to bear in every aspect of his life. Beyond his family and his books, he cared so deeply about inequalities in society, in education and healthcare particularly, and was always nothing less than forthright in expressing those views. I didn’t always agree with him and occasionally there’d be a spiky exchange but Graham respected honesty and a coherent argument (when I could muster one). Mind you, he wasn’t easily persuaded from his point of view. Mind you, that was because very often he was right…
I would drink at the well of Graham’s knowledge as often as I could. Whether it was politics, football, literature, faerie, history, writing… Graham had such a wealth of understanding and experience but he managed never to be patronising or impatient. I’d come away from the conversation armed with new information, new ways to look at things.
And then there was the simple pleasure of sitting with him over dinner. I particularly remember a wonderful evening in Brighton in 2012 with Graham, Sarah Pinborough, Joe Abercrombie and Conrad Williams. I’ll treasure the memory because I have rarely laughed so hard for so long. Graham, with his piercing, sparkling eyes was on incredible form and we all fed off it. Graham had the gift of instantly measuring a mood and he turned that night into something magical. I was lucky to be there, we all were.
Graham’s was the most generous of souls and his was a life that burned so brightly and not for long enough, not by a long way. Whenever I spent time with Graham, I came away feeling improved. Whenever we spoke on the phone, I didn’t want the conversation to end. Selfish, I know but I just loved speaking to him and was greedy for his wisdom.
I am blessed to have known Graham as a friend. We are all blessed that he has left behind such warm memories and the most wonderful body of work. His death has robbed his family of his extraordinary capacity for love and the rest of us of his boundless talent. Today we are all lessened.