It has now been confirmed that J.H. 'Herbie' Brennan, author of some of the quirkier gamebook series (plus a number of entertaining children's books and a multitude of guides to paranormal phenomena) passed on at the start of this year.
Back when I got rid of much of my gamebook collection during the early 1990s, there was no question of my disposing of any of the books authored by Mr. Brennan: I enjoyed Grail Quest and Horror Classics far too much. His short series of Barmy Jeffers novels provided one of the best twists I've encountered in children's literature, and in more recent years I was an avid reader of his Faerie Wars series: it saddens me that the plot threads he left open for further development will remain unresolved.
While often mechanically flawed, his gamebooks were among the best-written from a literary standpoint, and regularly achieved the harder-than-you-might-think feat of including humour that was actually funny. The title of this post is a quotation from one of his books, reflecting the jovial attitude towards death that he often displayed in them, and is in no way intended to show disrespect.
Condolences and sympathies to his family and friends.
