Found out earlier today from a friend. Sad way to start the day.
Apparently there are so many Redwall books that I have never even heard of. It must be a decade since I last read one, but I can still remember the deep and abiding love I had for these books - every softback copy I own is creased and worn down like hell, and I remember that one of the many things I looked forward to when visiting my grandparents' house was paying a visit to the excellent bookstore in the nearby town with a shiny new fiver or tenner I'd been given and buying one of the Redwall books I didn't own. Also, how pissed I was that I lent my copy of The Bellmaker to a friend and never got it back (that and the first book in the Fabled Lands series, still a little bitter about those.) Some of the shine might have worn off for me when I realised that there was a fair touch of formula about them - how many of his books don't have one of the heroes kicking ass at eating food and thus winning the respect of the initially hostile tribe - but that was, and still is, irrelevant. Redwall wouldn't be Redwall without a rebellious youngster sneaking off to save the day, the Dibbuns doing something stupid, the massive feasts and hares scoffing away, that soup the otters made (hotroot?), at least one shocking death, evil vermin, and some form of cryptic clues.
I'll have to dig out a few of them next time I'm home and have a wee tribute read (and/or pick up some new copies).
Eulalia, Mr. Jacques. Give 'em blood'n'guts'n'vinegar at the Great Author's Scoff-Off in the sky.