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John Updike on Thievery

The young people ask me about becoming a writer, and they really haven’t read, not even read bad stuff. They haven’t experienced reading as happiness, as it were. So without some knowledge of what other writers have done, it’s very hard to find your own

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Across an old oak table, over coffee and cakes with legs crossed and eyes throwing back laughter like old friends, I know I have come to his home at last and at least, alive. But, as I gaze around the room I see, upon walls firmly