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| Max Ritvo, Poet Who Chronicled His Cancer Fight, Dies at 25 | Max Ritvo, Poet Who Chronicled His Cancer Fight, Dies at 25 |
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| Max Ritvo, an accomplished poet who spent much of his life under the cloud of cancer while gaining wide attention writing and speaking about it, died of the disease on Tuesday at his home in Los Angeles. He was 25. | Max Ritvo, an accomplished poet who spent much of his life under the cloud of cancer while gaining wide attention writing and speaking about it, died of the disease on Tuesday at his home in Los Angeles. He was 25. |
| His mother, Dr. Ariella Ritvo-Slifka, confirmed his death. | His mother, Dr. Ariella Ritvo-Slifka, confirmed his death. |
| Mr. Ritvo talked about his work and illness in interviews on radio programs including “Only Human” on WNYC and “The New Yorker Radio Hour.” His poems have appeared in Poetry Magazine and The New Yorker, and his first published volume of poetry, “Four Reincarnations,” will appear in the fall. | Mr. Ritvo talked about his work and illness in interviews on radio programs including “Only Human” on WNYC and “The New Yorker Radio Hour.” His poems have appeared in Poetry Magazine and The New Yorker, and his first published volume of poetry, “Four Reincarnations,” will appear in the fall. |
| The poet Louise Glück, who taught Mr. Ritvo at Yale, called the book “one of the most original and ambitious first books in my experience,” adding that his work is “marked by intellectual bravado and verbal extravagance.” | The poet Louise Glück, who taught Mr. Ritvo at Yale, called the book “one of the most original and ambitious first books in my experience,” adding that his work is “marked by intellectual bravado and verbal extravagance.” |
| Mr. Ritvo was 16 when he learned he had Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare pediatric cancer. He had gone to doctors after feeling pain in his side. At first they suspected pneumonia, but fearing something worse they took a tissue sample while he was under sedation. | Mr. Ritvo was 16 when he learned he had Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare pediatric cancer. He had gone to doctors after feeling pain in his side. At first they suspected pneumonia, but fearing something worse they took a tissue sample while he was under sedation. |
| He woke up in a cancer ward. | He woke up in a cancer ward. |
| “I remember thinking, ‘This is so terrible!’” he told Mary Harris of WNYC. “‘I’m just a young, acrobatic, wiry, handsome bloke of 16, and it’s so sad for all these old people, because they must have run out of beds and I just have pneumonia.’” | “I remember thinking, ‘This is so terrible!’” he told Mary Harris of WNYC. “‘I’m just a young, acrobatic, wiry, handsome bloke of 16, and it’s so sad for all these old people, because they must have run out of beds and I just have pneumonia.’” |
| A year of aggressive treatment brought about remission, and over the next four and a half years he finished high school and attended Yale. | A year of aggressive treatment brought about remission, and over the next four and a half years he finished high school and attended Yale. |
| The cancer returned in Mr. Ritvo’s senior year. He nevertheless completed his degree in 2013 and this year earned a master of fine arts from Columbia University, where he became a teaching fellow. He also served as poetry editor at Parnassus: Poetry in Review. | The cancer returned in Mr. Ritvo’s senior year. He nevertheless completed his degree in 2013 and this year earned a master of fine arts from Columbia University, where he became a teaching fellow. He also served as poetry editor at Parnassus: Poetry in Review. |
| Throughout his illness, he rejected the clichés of being an “inspiring victim of cancer,” his mother said. He counseled other families going through treatment for Ewing’s sarcoma, and spoke out often about the disease and the importance of research. | Throughout his illness, he rejected the clichés of being an “inspiring victim of cancer,” his mother said. He counseled other families going through treatment for Ewing’s sarcoma, and spoke out often about the disease and the importance of research. |
| His poetry, said a writer for The Boston Review, is composed “of candor, of splendor and of abandon.” It could veer from despair to humor in lines like these, from “Radiation in New Jersey, Convalescence in New York”: | His poetry, said a writer for The Boston Review, is composed “of candor, of splendor and of abandon.” It could veer from despair to humor in lines like these, from “Radiation in New Jersey, Convalescence in New York”: |
| I come from a place where the water | I come from a place where the water |
| is so barren that when you drink it | is so barren that when you drink it |
| the fish of the throat die, | the fish of the throat die, |
| causing malignant thirst. | causing malignant thirst. |
| What’s a dazzler like you | What’s a dazzler like you |
| doing in a dump like my bed? | doing in a dump like my bed? |
| Last August Mr. Ritvo married Victoria Jackson-Hanen, now a doctoral student in psychology at Princeton. They had met during a summer academic program at Cambridge University in 2005. After she moved from England to the United States, they began dating in 2013. | Last August Mr. Ritvo married Victoria Jackson-Hanen, now a doctoral student in psychology at Princeton. They had met during a summer academic program at Cambridge University in 2005. After she moved from England to the United States, they began dating in 2013. |
| Dr. Ritvo-Slifka, a research scientist, recalled that her son, thinking about marriage but knowing his prospects for survival were questionable, had asked her, “Is it fair of me to propose?” | |
| Max Joseph Ritvo was born Dec. 19, 1990, in Los Angeles. A literary prodigy, he was writing at 3, his mother said. | Max Joseph Ritvo was born Dec. 19, 1990, in Los Angeles. A literary prodigy, he was writing at 3, his mother said. |
| At Yale, he joined an experimental comedy group called His Majesty, the Baby. He entertained its other members with outlandish and often profane riffs, said Andrew Kahn, the group’s producer and manager. | At Yale, he joined an experimental comedy group called His Majesty, the Baby. He entertained its other members with outlandish and often profane riffs, said Andrew Kahn, the group’s producer and manager. |
| His sketches could be challenging for audiences: in one, he used the medical port in his chest as a kind of ventriloquist’s dummy, putting googly eyes on the protrusion and jiggling it with his hand while chatting with it about cancer treatments. | His sketches could be challenging for audiences: in one, he used the medical port in his chest as a kind of ventriloquist’s dummy, putting googly eyes on the protrusion and jiggling it with his hand while chatting with it about cancer treatments. |
| Mr. Ritvo’s body bore three tattoos depicting birds that he had acquired after enduring each new wound or scar. “He wanted to juxtapose it,” Ms. Ritvo explained, referring to his cancer, “with something beautiful.” | Mr. Ritvo’s body bore three tattoos depicting birds that he had acquired after enduring each new wound or scar. “He wanted to juxtapose it,” Ms. Ritvo explained, referring to his cancer, “with something beautiful.” |
| In “Poem to My Litter,” which The New Yorker published in June, Mr. Ritvo wrote of an experiment in which cells cloned from his tumors were placed in mice in the hope of finding more promising treatments. He names each of the mice Max. He wrote: | In “Poem to My Litter,” which The New Yorker published in June, Mr. Ritvo wrote of an experiment in which cells cloned from his tumors were placed in mice in the hope of finding more promising treatments. He names each of the mice Max. He wrote: |
| My doctors split my tumors up and scattered them | My doctors split my tumors up and scattered them |
| into the bones of twelve mice. We give | into the bones of twelve mice. We give |
| the mice poisons I might, in the future, want | the mice poisons I might, in the future, want |
| for myself. We watch each mouse like a crystal ball. | for myself. We watch each mouse like a crystal ball. |
| The hoped-for therapies did not emerge. He wrote: | The hoped-for therapies did not emerge. He wrote: |
| And since I do absolutely nothing (my pride, like my fur, all gone) nothing happens to me. And if a whole lot | And since I do absolutely nothing (my pride, like my fur, all gone) nothing happens to me. And if a whole lot |
| of nothing happens to you, Maxes, that’s peace. | of nothing happens to you, Maxes, that’s peace. |
| Which is what we want. Trust me. | Which is what we want. Trust me. |
| Along with his wife and mother, Mr. Ritvo is survived by his father, Edward Ritvo; his sisters, Victoria Ritvo Black and Skylre Oryx; and a stepbrother, David Slifka. His stepfather, Alan B. Slifka, a New York investor and philanthropist who was the founding chairman of the Big Apple Circus, died in 2011. Dr. Ritvo-Slifka leads a foundation that bears Mr. Slifka’s name and which, among other missions, supports research into sarcoma. | Along with his wife and mother, Mr. Ritvo is survived by his father, Edward Ritvo; his sisters, Victoria Ritvo Black and Skylre Oryx; and a stepbrother, David Slifka. His stepfather, Alan B. Slifka, a New York investor and philanthropist who was the founding chairman of the Big Apple Circus, died in 2011. Dr. Ritvo-Slifka leads a foundation that bears Mr. Slifka’s name and which, among other missions, supports research into sarcoma. |
| In Max Ritvo’s final weeks, he remained cleareyed. In a podcast interview on Aug. 14 with the media personality Dr. Drew Pinsky, he said, his voice weak, “This is end-of-life stuff.” | In Max Ritvo’s final weeks, he remained cleareyed. In a podcast interview on Aug. 14 with the media personality Dr. Drew Pinsky, he said, his voice weak, “This is end-of-life stuff.” |
| Over time, he said, his work had shifted “away from sort of ebullient death poetry and fighting poetry and poetry of, sort of, the bloods and the squirmies and the guts, and more toward trying to figure out what death is, and what my place in the world is.” | Over time, he said, his work had shifted “away from sort of ebullient death poetry and fighting poetry and poetry of, sort of, the bloods and the squirmies and the guts, and more toward trying to figure out what death is, and what my place in the world is.” |
| His poetry sustained him, his family said. “He said the day he stopped writing, that would be the end of it,” his wife said in an interview. She added: “He was writing three days before he died.” | His poetry sustained him, his family said. “He said the day he stopped writing, that would be the end of it,” his wife said in an interview. She added: “He was writing three days before he died.” |
| On Monday, Dr. Ritvo-Slifka said, her son was too weak to write poetry. | On Monday, Dr. Ritvo-Slifka said, her son was too weak to write poetry. |
| “That’s it,” she said quoting him. “I can’t write any more.” | “That’s it,” she said quoting him. “I can’t write any more.” |
| The family called in the hospice nurses, who gave him sedatives. He died the next morning. | The family called in the hospice nurses, who gave him sedatives. He died the next morning. |