The Boston Globe, December 5th, 1995
As a rule, I never tape-record interviews. But when I went to Toronto in 1988 to profile one of my favorite writers, Robertson Davies, I decided to make an exception, for fear of butchering a particularly sage aphorism or esoteric reference. The device was in my coat pocket as I entered Davies' office. He greeted me and rapidly hung my coat up, without noticing the recorder. Before I could retrieve it from his closet, he smiled, turning his white-bearded face from King Lear to Santa Claus. "I'm glad you didn't bring a tape recorder," he said as I groped for my notebook and pen. "You should lis...
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