For a man who dislikes interviews -- he has called them "a form to be loathed; a half-form like maggots" -- John Updike is an agile and adept interview subject. In conversation he seems to shed, as the critic James Wolcott has put it, "bright amounts of angel fluff" about almost any topic at hand. At age 64, there is indeed something snow-capped and oddly angelic about Updike; he seems to hover over the contemporary literary scene like an apparition from another era, the last great American man of letters. Read more.
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