The return of Paul Ableman

I used to have a clipping from the Sunday Times circa 1987. It was a one-off column by Paul Ableman (unknown to me then and since) in which he discussed his mammoth diary project. He wrote thousands of words about each day. I remember reading that he saw this as the future novel, one step on from Joyce. It wasn't very convincing. Yet I kept the clipping.

Only recently I wondered what had happened to him. Literary fame hadn't come to him. So much for so much work. I remember the hunched figure in the accompanying photograph.

Today, via Peter Stothard's blog, I discover that he died last week and that he wasn't the lonely failure I'd assumed.