Manuela Hoelterhoff passed away earlier this week. The word “unique” is both overused and misused, but she was: unique. She was a superb and stylish writer. Sharp, in more than one sense (bright, and prone to barbs). She won the Pulitzer Prize, for criticism, in 1983. I met her in the mid-1990s. We talked for 30 years—mainly about music, but also about life, with its bumps and bruises. 

After I had been divorced, she said, “Oh, Jay. I wish I were younger and straight.” That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. 

Unforgettable, this woman. Auf Wiedersehen, Mani, and thanks for all the kindness and fun.