I somehow missed the news of Tanith Lee’s passing for several months. Ms. Lee’s career as an author started with her novel The Birthgrave back in 1975, and on through ninety-three books that included fantasy, horror, gothic romance, science-fiction, and works that felt like a mix of a few different genres (Biting the Sun, anyone?)
Tanith was also one of my favorite authors; her collection of re-told fairytales Red As Blood is one of those books that I keep nearby for comfort-food reading, as is her gloriously decadent, vampiric (sort of) book of the Scarabae, Personal Darkness. (Damn. I just realized that the rumored fourth novel in the Blood Opera Sequence will never happen now. One more volume for the Sandman’s Library of Lost Books, I suppose.)
She kept on writing up until the very end, and she had plans in place for several themed short story collections. Lengenda Maris is the first of those: eleven tales of the ocean featuring monsters, mysteries, and hapless people caught up in the places where the land meets the sea.