We spent Thanksgiving as we usually do, gathering at Melinda Snodgrass’s place in the hills above Lamy to enjoy the company of friends old and new over a sumptuous meal.   Turkey, stuffing, deviled eggs, Melinda’s home made nog, a slice or two of apple pie (with cheese, of course).  The food was lovely, and it was good to be with friends.

But 2024 was a dark year, and our Thanksgiving was to have a dark end.   Later that night, at home, we received a shattering text from Shannon Zelazny.  Her brother Trent had died earlier that day of acute liver failure.

Trent had suffered a massive stroke back in September that had left him unable to walk… but he had been in rehab subsequently, and was making good progress.  He was still Trent, still a fighter, and we all hoped he was on his way to recovery.  It proved not to be.

He was only 48.  In fact, Thanksgiving was his birthday.

I have known Trent since he was a small boy.   His father was Roger Zelazny, a brilliant brilliant writer and one of the kindest men I have ever known… and a mentor to me, of sorts.   He was the only person I knew when I moved from Iowa to New Mexico in 1979.  He took me under his wing, invited me to dinners and parties, introduced me to  First Friday and the Albuqerque science fiction fans..  I saw Zozobra for the first time from his house on Stagecoach Road, whose windows looked down on Old Man Gloom and Fort Marcy Park.

And of course met his family.  Shannon had not yet been born, though she was on her way, but his sons were never far from their dad.

Devin, the older boy, looked so much like Roger he could have been a twin, and like Roger he was painfully shy.  Trent was anything but.  My earliest memory of him is from the year his dad brought him to Bubonicon, where he went everywhere and charmed everyone, clad in a t-shirt that read MY DAD WROTE LORD OF LIGHT.

A later (and much sadder memory) was from 1995, where Roger lay dying in St Vincent’s Hospital.   Like many of his friends, I came and went during that dreadful week, visiting as often as I could, but Trent never left his father’s side.

He got married soon after Roger left us, and his wife gave him a son.   He named the boy Corwin.  (What else?)   For a time, he was my tenant; he and his wife and his new son were renting my old house on Declovina, the first place I lived in Santa Fe.

Life happens, though.  Corwin and his mother moved to California and the marriage ended.  Trent continued to write, and begin to sell.  He had his own voice, though.   He loved his father’s work, and knew it better than anyone, but he was never an echo.  He loved horror stories, and crime fiction, and noir, and did a lot of work in those fields.  Sales started to be more common.  While I was out in LA working in television, Trent moved to Florida, and I lost track of him for a few years.   Florida was not kind to him, through, and he lived through some sort of tragedy down there.

When he came back to the Land of Enchantment, I had just bought the Jean Cocteau Cinema.   Trent needed work, and I made him my second hire.  He started out selling popcorn, but soon was promoted to projectionist.   He helped in promotion and scheduling as well, and sat in on some of my events, interviewing some of the writers who came by on promotional tours.   He was a great employee, always… but never wanted to go full time.   Writing was his true love, and he wanted to focus on that.   His father would have said the same.

A few years further on, his sister Shannon his son Corwin both came to work at the JCC as well.   And when declining health left his mother unable to continue managing Roger’s estate, Trent and Shannon took it on together.   It was around then that they left the JCC, to devote more time to running the Amber Corporation… and giving Trent more time to write.

By then he had published a number of books, in several genres.   I did not doubt that there were more to come.   He had talent, and he had determination.  Life had dealt him some hard blows, but he never gave up.  Six months ago, if you had asked me, I would have said that Trent Zelazny was just at the beginning of his career.

I could never have dreamed that he was close to the end.

He is survived by his sister Shannon, his brother Devin, his son Corwin… and more friends than I can count.

We’re all going to miss him.

And if there is life beyond this, somewhere in Shadow on the road to Amber, I know his father is proud of him.

GRRM