God damn it all.
He was the greatest writer of his generation; he might be the only American writer that will be remembered in 50 years. He mattered.
I wish I could link to my reviews of his work, but it appears my former employers have managed to delete them. Which means I'm left to say this: He was sensitive, he was sane, he was funny and (most of all) he was serious. I received a text message at dinner telling me he died, and my only reaction was an inarticulate sadness that I would never read another essay by him again. He made me so happy. He helped me understand why I love writing.
Erik Henriksen has another appreciation here
Your fellow SNOOT hails you and embraces you.