Any author likes to hear stuff like this from his inquisitors, but Updike feels he has been interviewed a little too often. What a pity it is to turn every writer into a sort of sales placard for his work. They take forever, they get you all relaxed and gabby, and then they crucify you, writing down whatever they please. There's no evidence of what you really said except their tape, and they keep the tape. No more print.
Print is dead.
Unfortunately for this interviewer, Updike doesn't have forever. His dermatologist at Massachusetts General is expecting him in a little over an hour. If necessary, we could finish up in the waiting room. He promises a quote from his doctor. With My Skin .