Hitchens knew he was not doing his job properly if he was not infuriating someone, writes JOHN BANVILLE
I NEVER met Christopher Hitchens. I spoke to him on the telephone a few times, savouring his somewhat lordly, bibulously rich tones. We had friends in common, and on a couple of occasions I had to turn down invitations to dinners he was to attend.
Now that he is gone, I sorely regret those lost opportunities, for he was surely one of the great talkers of his time. One could easily imagine him in the coffee houses of 18th-century London, swapping witticisms with Dr Johnson – and challenging his politics. I remember Martin Amis saying, in wonderment and some envy, that the Hitch spoke not only in rounded sentences but in shaped and polished paragraphs.
He chafed under the label of contrarian, and certainly in his case the label was entirely inadequate. Yet part of the reason that he was precious was the fact that he would never accept the received wisdom of the day.
He was a life-long socialist, yet he gave his full support to the administrations of the Bushes, fils and père, in both wars against Saddam Hussein, something for which the left never forgave him. But then, he had little interest in forgiveness. He knew he was not doing his job properly if he was not infuriating someone.
He was particularly admirable in his opposition to the mealy-mouthed appeasers of fundamentalism in all its forms. How refreshing it was, for instance, that at least one commentator had the courage and the moral conviction to point out, again and again, that Islamist suicide bombers were not martyrs for a sacred cause, but deluded cannon-fodder for the fanatical bigots who stand in shadowy safety and send children marching forward to atrocious death.
Equally, and to the fury of the Christian right, he delighted in pointing out the atheistic instincts of America’s founding fathers. There was not a house upon which he would not call a plague.
In a mean age, Christopher Hitchens was an exemplar of the good life – not the life of riches and celebrity, but of commitment and dedication, of hard work well done, of the company of friends, of love, of friendship, of loyalty and, well, fun. Few public figures when they die leave a sense of personal loss; Hitch was one of those few.