Hearing the news of Philip Roth's death made me think of this old essay I wrote, but never did anything with. I'm publishing it here now since so much of it deals with how his retirement was a seeming death for Roth, which has now actually taken place. Note: Some of this is very dated, but I think it's so of its time it wouldn't help to update it. I began writing because I had made friends with the dead: they had written to me, in their books, about life on earth and I wanted