The New York Times: William Trevor, whose mournful, sometimes darkly funny short stories and novels about the small struggles of unremarkable people placed him in the company of masters like V. S. Pritchett, W. Somerset Maugham and Chekhov, died on Sunday in Somerset, England. He was 88.
Hat tip to Jeff Meyerson.
2 comments:
I love his work, although some of it is too much of a downer to read consecutively. Makes me sad.
I admired Trevor's work. But, like Rick said, a lot of his stories are very sad.
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