The morning the article in the Guardian came out—with a big headline, in the Sunday supplement—Jasper Gwyn was in Spain, in Granada: it seemed to him appropriate, in the circumstances, to put a certain distance between himself and the world. He had chosen a hotel so modest that there was no telephone in the room, and so that morning someone had to come up to inform him that there was a call for him downstairs in the lobby. He went down in his pajamas and reluctantly went over to an old telephone, painted yellow, placed on a wicker table. He leaned the receiver against his ear and what he heard was the voice of Tom Bruce Shepperd, his agent.
“What’s this all about, Jasper?”
“What’s what about?”
“The fifty-two things. I read them this morning, Lottie gave me the paper, I was still in bed. I practically had a stroke.”
“Maybe I should have warned you.”
“You’re not telling me it’s serious. Is it a challenge, a statement, what the hell is it?”
“Nothing, an article. But it’s all true.”
“In what sense?”
“I mean I wrote it seriously. It’s exactly what I’ve decided.”
“You’re telling me you’re going to stop writing?”
“You’re crazy.”
“I really have to go, you know?”
“Wait a second, Jasper, we’ve got to talk about it, if you don’t talk about it to me, your agent…”
“There’s nothing to add, I’m going to stop writing and that’s it.”
“You know something, Jasper, are you listening to me, you know something?”
“Yes, I’m listening to you.”
“Then listen to me, I’ve heard that statement dozens of times, I’ve heard it said by an unimaginable number of writers, I’ve even heard Martin Amis say it, do you believe me? It must have been ten years ago, Martin Amis said those exact words, I’m going to stop writing, and it’s only one example, but I could give you twenty, you want me to make you a list?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“And you know something? Not one of them really stopped, there’s no such thing as stopping.”
“Okay, but now I really have to go, Tom.”
“Not one.”
“Okay.”
“Good article, anyway.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve really thrown a stone in the pond.”
“Don’t use that expression, please.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Now I’m going.”
“I’m expecting you in London, when are you coming? Lottie would be really happy to see you.”
“I’m about to hang up, Tom.”
“Jasper, big brother, don’t joke.”
“I’ve hung up, Tom.”
He spoke that last sentence, however, after he hung up, so Tom Bruce Shepperd didn’t hear it.