SOUL SEARCHING
‘The is a weird business, this interview thing,” says Jonathan Franzen. “I’m pretty sure that I’m going to stop submitting to profiles is because I no longer have to do them, and I would rather dedicate myself to birdwatching and bird conservation.”
Franzen, one of America’s living literary legends, is on the other end of a Zoom call from his home in Santa Cruz, California. Wearing his traditional casual academic garb – tortoiseshell spectacle frames, tailored white shirt – he’s sitting in his white, uncluttered kitchen, as sparse and monochromatic as a Robert Rauschenberg painting.
He’s charming yet guarded, smiling easily. We are discussing the early reviews of his latest epic novel, , which are universally glowing. He admits his anxiety has eased somewhat, but is ambivalent and suspicious of adulation. His suggestion that he is considering giving up the publicity rounds, as he has said before,
