Of Sitchin's outlandish theories, I have little to say now that I didn't say a decade ago in writing about the man and his work on the twenty-fifth anniversary of his first ancient alien tome, The Twelfth Planet. He was wrong then and remained wrong until his death. His self-designed programs of Sitchin Studies, complete with diplomas, were, shall we say, quaint.
Of the man, however, I can say this: Unlike his contemporaries Erich von Daniken and Robert Temple, Sitchin did not make a personal fetish out of claims of persecution. Unlike von Dankien and his minders, Sitchin did not personally attack those who criticized him and appeared not to hold vendettas years later.
I corresponded with Sitchin exactly once, when writing The Cult of Alien Gods, and he declined to be intereviewed, citing a lack of time--unlike other writers who immediately accused me of libel, slander, and worse simply for asking. As late as this summer, I still received queries from confused readers who assumed that I knew Sitchin and wanted me to give them his telephone number. He apparently inspired that kind of devotion.