Susan Sontag died today in New York from complications of acute myelogenous leukemia; she had battled cancer intermittantly for thirty years. She was 71.

Sontag’s career included a National Book Award, a National Book Critic’s Circle Award, and a Macarthur “Genius” grant. More recently, she was an outspoken critic of the Administration’s response to 9/11 and resulting clusterfucks.

Unlike most serious intellectuals, Ms. Sontag was also a popular celebrity, partly because of her striking, telegenic appearance, partly because of her outspoken, at times inflammatory, public statements. She was undoubtedly the only writer of her generation to win major literary prizes (among them a National Book Critics’ Circle Award, a National Book Award and a MacArthur “genius” grant) and to appear in films by Woody Allen and Andy Warhol; be the subject of rapturous profiles in Rolling Stone and People magazine; and pose for an Absolut Vodka ad. Over the decades, her image – strong features, wide mouth, intense gaze and dark mane crowned in later years by a sweeping streak of white – became an instantly recognizable artifact of 20th-century popular culture.

We are poorer without her voice.