So when you ask me how did I feel about Cheever, about his journals I think it was just hard for him and I feel sad.
This is Cheever on Xanax, or maybe lithium, but the voice is still there; sardonic, hilarious, and very much of our time.
Then I think of the great writers of suburban misery (and drinking, and adultery), Updike and Cheever.
The Letters of John Cheever Edited by Benjamin Cheever Nobody put things quite like Cheever.
“Updike and I spent most of our time back-biting one another,” Cheever apparently wrote to Frederick Exley.
Mr. Cheever, in rising, met the glance of his wife, and the look of questioning and wonder that passed did not escape the hostess.
He is the friend of that so-called gospel preacher, Cheever.
Charity had seen Cheever brought in at midnight and had looked to it that he had every care.
"Come on and help Harvard along, Cheever," put in a strident voice.
Dyckman had a chilling intuition that Cheever was lying in ambush for him.