BALTIMORE — About five years ago, relatives began vanishing from the Baltimore novelist Anne Tyler’s life like disappearing ink. They faded away so gradually and quietly Tyler hadn’t even realized they were gone, leaving behind only faint traces of long-ago relationships.
A friend compiling a genealogical chart told Tyler she had discovered that two aunts had passed away: the author’s mother’s sister, Marjorie, and Rose Ann, who had been married to Tyler’s uncle. The aunts were elderly, but the way the author learned the news left her feeling bewildered and shaken.
“I had always liked them, but they lived farther away,” said Tyler, who is 80. “There hadn’t been any rift. The idea that we could lose touch like that was such a shock.
