John Updike died today (insert silly emoticon with a tear here). The literary world will miss you dearly, and I, as a New Yorker reader will feel the lack of your presence.
Nymag.com had a great quote from Updike about his own writing:
"my concerns — to survive, to improve, to make my microcosms amusing to me and then to others, to fail, if fail I must, through neither artistic cowardice nor laziness, to catch all the typographical errors in my proofs, to see that my books appear in jackets both striking and fairly representative of the contents, to arrange words and spaces and imagined realities in patterns never exactly achieved before, to be able to defend any sentence I publish."
This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly, it should be thrown with great force. -Dorothy Parker