pallas_athena: (Default)
Yesterday I attended a memorial service for Tony Nuttall, the favourite tutor of my university days, who died suddenly and unexpectedly in January. (I wrote about it here then.)

The service was at my old college. It was a beautiful day: the weather had suddenly cleared after weeks of rain, and the sun streamed in the stained-glass windows of the chapel. Tony's two children spoke, and several of his colleagues, all with great love.

Love sort of defines Tony's time at New College. Tony had this quality about him that instantly won hearts; all his students loved and revered him. He was always kind and sympathetic; funny as all hell, but in a way that hurt no one. I spent some time after the service swapping stories with other people who'd known him over tea in the Cloisters, and later over drinks in the Turf.

I've been reading Tony's book about Shakespeare, Shakespeare the Thinker, which came out last month. It's an extraordinary book, of course, because Tony was an extraordinary mind, and Shakespeare was what he spent most of his life thinking about. It's very readable, and I'd recommend it highly to anyone who's fond of Shakespeare.

Reading it, I can sort of hear Tony's voice in the lines; it's full of things I remember him talking about during tutorials. Which is lovely, but also heartbreaking, because that remembered voice is all that's left now: his real, living voice is gone. He should be around to reap the glory from this book, and to laugh and talk with friends about it. I'm glad he finished it, and glad to have it, but sad that it's all we have.
pallas_athena: (Default)
Yesterday I attended a memorial service for Tony Nuttall, the favourite tutor of my university days, who died suddenly and unexpectedly in January. (I wrote about it here then.)

The service was at my old college. It was a beautiful day: the weather had suddenly cleared after weeks of rain, and the sun streamed in the stained-glass windows of the chapel. Tony's two children spoke, and several of his colleagues, all with great love.

Love sort of defines Tony's time at New College. Tony had this quality about him that instantly won hearts; all his students loved and revered him. He was always kind and sympathetic; funny as all hell, but in a way that hurt no one. I spent some time after the service swapping stories with other people who'd known him over tea in the Cloisters, and later over drinks in the Turf.

I've been reading Tony's book about Shakespeare, Shakespeare the Thinker, which came out last month. It's an extraordinary book, of course, because Tony was an extraordinary mind, and Shakespeare was what he spent most of his life thinking about. It's very readable, and I'd recommend it highly to anyone who's fond of Shakespeare.

Reading it, I can sort of hear Tony's voice in the lines; it's full of things I remember him talking about during tutorials. Which is lovely, but also heartbreaking, because that remembered voice is all that's left now: his real, living voice is gone. He should be around to reap the glory from this book, and to laugh and talk with friends about it. I'm glad he finished it, and glad to have it, but sad that it's all we have.
pallas_athena: (Default)
I heard last night that my favourite tutor from university, eminent Shakespearean Tony Nuttall, has died. Totally unexpected-- he was only 69 and in fine fettle, as far as I knew.
To love that well which thou must leave ere long )

This sudden loss makes me want to write to every teacher who's ever had an influence on me and tell them what they meant to me, and say "Thank you. I may never have turned in any work, but your time was not spent in vain. I carry you with me."
pallas_athena: (Default)
I heard last night that my favourite tutor from university, eminent Shakespearean Tony Nuttall, has died. Totally unexpected-- he was only 69 and in fine fettle, as far as I knew.
To love that well which thou must leave ere long )

This sudden loss makes me want to write to every teacher who's ever had an influence on me and tell them what they meant to me, and say "Thank you. I may never have turned in any work, but your time was not spent in vain. I carry you with me."

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