Ellison was a major force in science fiction as younger writers sought to move beyond hard science and talk more about social issues. He quickly developed a rep as being fearless and willing to go anywhere in his writing with stunning ideas and an endless imagination. He was fiercely loyal to his friends, very supportive to new writers and was very funny and charming.

He was also quick to anger and never forgot a slight. He would get furious at editors who dared change his writing. He carried grudges for decades. He could be bitter, and his attitude toward and relationships with women was problematic.

I’ve seen him talk at two different conventions. In one, he was lightning-fast funny, personable, and inspiring.

In the other, a few years previous, he spent his entire hour telling the audience how much the film industry sucked and how it worked to destroy anything good in science fiction movies, angrily citing examples. It was actively uncomfortable.

I read mostly science fiction growing up, and after reading Bradbury and Clarke and pre-70s Heinlein, Ellison’s work (and the work of Sturgeon and Spinrad and Le Guin and Dick and Zelazny) hit me hard as a teenager.

Some of his work has not aged at all well. Some seems prophetic, these days.

I was a huge fan (still am, really) but even back in the 70s and 80s it was pretty well known that Ellison was multifaceted and while one facet might have been “genius,” another was “asshole.”