Posted on September 21st, 2011 by
Fifty years after his death, he still looms as America’s literary giant. But late in his life, as his talent slipped and his paranoia grew, the great storyteller struggled to live up to his own image — right to the brutal end …He aimed for just above the eyebrows, and nothing went awry. He’d been home from Mayo Clinic for two days, having been driven back from Minnesota to Ketchum in a Hertz rental car in the company of his wife and an old boxing friend whose Manhattan gym he used for his workouts.
Men’s Journal, Paul Hendrickson, 9/21/11
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