I was extremely saddened by the news that the wonderfully talented writer and creative writing teacher Michael Baldwin has died at the age of 83. The Guardian obituary can be found here: http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/feb/19/michael-baldwin
A full listing of his works (novels, poetry, autobiography and non-fiction) blogged by writer and Baldwin fan, RJ Dent, can also be found here:
http://rjdent.wordpress.com/2010/09/04/michael-baldwin-1930-2014/
My first connection with Michael didn't come via any of his work, however, bur rather through his role as a creative writing tutor in Canterbury 2003-2005. I was only starting out on the fiction road back then - having already had a career as a history lecturer - and Micheal was a charismatic guide. Not only did he have an abundance of experience in all forms of writing and teaching; he was also incredibly wise, funny, gregarious and something of a compulsive raconteur. Someone I was fortunate enough to have with me on my journey, even if only for a few years.
Michael had a clever, instinctive nose for a good story, an eye for detail, and an ear for dialogue. One always had the impression he understood the purpose of a particular story and could read the sub-text of complicated narratives. During our one-to-one tutorials (I sometimes wish I could transport myself back to that room and talk with him again), we would chat about almost anything in life, and his comments on my work were always sensitive, profound and to the point. Despite a wealth of knowledge and experience, Michael did all of these things without an ounce of self-importance. He had a passion for writing, was generous with his time, and considered with his opinion. When he talked about famous poet and dead friend, Ted Hughes, it was never name-dropping, but rather I think from a long philosophy of learning. Michael had learnt a great deal about being a writer from his friendship with Ted, and he passed this knowledge on willingly. Now a writer, tutor and fiction mentor myself, I try to do the same; though Michael is quite incomparable.
Perhaps what I shall miss the most, though, is sitting in a local public house with him, discussing all manner of writing and writers. His personal stories were always mesmerising and joyful; his humour boundless. In my mind, he is still sitting at a table, a glass of red wine before him, a clever observation ready on his lips. And perhaps, somewhere, he will be with Ted Hughes...
Cheers, Michael. Thank you for all of the things you said, and wrote.
AFM
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