Whenever I log onto social media I always see the same things. I see videos of cute animals falling over, photos of smiling people standing awkwardly in front of cars holding certificates celebrating the success of their third driving test and a string of celebrity rants and status updates, none of which I truly care about. Then, every so often, I find something else. Celebrities that were once internet-wide objects of ridicule suddenly become the focus of collages commemorating their contributions to culture, society and our childhoods. The actors and musicians that we grew up with remain dear to our hearts well into our early adulthood. Their sad deaths elicit an equally strong reaction in the hoards of fans that they accumulated over the course of their lives. The death of iconic stars, such as the illustrious actor Alan Rickman and the unforgettable David Bowie in the last week, have captured the attention of the media and the hearts of the public.
It’s always a strange moment learning that a celebrity you admired has died. Though we didn’t know them personally, and although their passing does not directly alter our lives, you cannot help but feel deeply affected. Perhaps this is because of the profound impact they had on us personally. Maybe they were the first singer you saw live, or the author of the first book you fell in love with, or even an actor that played your favourite role in a movie that defined a generation. No matter what they meant to other people, we feel irrevocably connected to them. Their art spoke to us and that intimacy comforted us in times when perhaps our friends and family couldn’t.
When you log onto social media over the next couple of days, everyone will be posting messages of thanks, commemoration, and grief. When you really think about, it seems weird. What are we thanking them for? Fundamentally, they were just doing their jobs. Bowie wrote and sang songs for a living. Alan Rickman simply learnt and performed the lines written by another person for our pleasure. But I think it’s more than that. We thank them for the contribution they made to our lives, for providing us with the comfort we feel when listening to our favourite songs or watching our favourite movies. We thank them for helping change our views or teaching us something new. We thank them for the happy memories associated with whatever they did. I personally remember, when I was really young, going to see Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I was absolutely terrified of Professor Snape, with his flowing black robes and deep, threatening voice. The thing is, I associate that thrill of fear and the subsequent rush of adrenalin with Alan Rickman’s unique drawl. In a way, I suppose, we’re also thanking them for moments like that.
These people, in a way, provided the cultural background to our childhoods and it hurts when they die because it feels, in a way, like we’re losing some of that. Terry Pratchett was the author who got me hooked on books, and for as long as I can remember, there’s always been a new Terry Pratchett novel on my bedside table. It’s always been something to look forward to, a tantalising prospect of one more story, one more book, one more stroke of genius.
When he died in April 2015, the news hit me hard. There wasn’t going to be a new Pratchett novel; the era of my life which had been punctuated by these works is over. Okay, I still have all of his old stuff to fall back on, but gone is the excitement of opening up the first page of a new work, oblivious to what lies ahead. I suddenly realised that was never going to happen again. Admittedly, I was lucky, because his final novel, The Shepherd’s Crown, was released posthumously, which allowed me one final communication with the man whom I had admired so much. This, I suppose, brings me quite cleanly to my next point.
The mark of a truly great artist, whether they’re a singer, actor or writer, is that they’ll put a little bit of themselves in their work. So, when we engage with their songs, their films or their books, it can feel like we’re engaging with them and their personalities. In watching or reading their work for the first time, it’s like we’re making a new friend in a way. When we watch it over and over again countless times, it’s like we’re reconnecting with a lifelong friend. When they pass away, maybe we do feel like we’re losing that. If they truly were your childhood heroes, the odds are you’ve been following their careers for a long time. You’ve watched all their interviews and learnt some of their quirks, you’ve made jokes about them with other fans and if you’re re- ally lucky, you may have even met them. This might just sound a little stalkerish now, but isn’t all celebrity culture just an acceptable form of idol worship anyway? When you get down to it, the whole point is that you are engaging with these people on something far more than a commercial level. They leave an impact on you, they mean something to you. It can feel like a real and significant loss in your life, and whoever they were and whatever they meant to you, it is obvious that they will be greatly missed.
