A Swedish interviewer came to Neuchâtel, where I was recovering from a heart attack. Ordinarily I do not give interviews, but I had just received the Nobel Prize, and as this journalist was correspondent for the X------ of Stockholm, I could not decently refuse him. Moreover he was charming and I retain a most pleasant memory of the conversation that I had with him. Before leaving, he asked me whether there was not one book that I regretted having written. Was he referring to my Back from the U.S.S.R.? I looked at him, and since in asking the question, he endeavored to smile tactfully, I realized that he must be referring to Corydon. I replied, without smiling, that I would certainly . . .
Related books and articles