I went first to the artists' colony called Yaddo up in Saratoga Springs, New York, where I had been a guest in the past, and I spent about two or three months there. And then I found a house to rent in Woodstock, New York, which is way off in the hills, and I went there. And then two or three years later I found my house in Connecticut, which is also off in the hills. It was on two dirt roads, it was perfect for me – nobody could see it, nobody could get there, and so I moved in there in 1973 – or '72 or '73 – and I've been there ever since, and stepped away from this problem that I didn't like so much. But I did become... someone to conjure with, you know, and I was kind of stunned, I was kind of stunned. So I made many friends as a writer and I made many enemies as a writer and many enemies as a Jew. I was not quite as innocent as the boy who'd published Defender of the Faith in... in New Yorker in 1958, and a year or two had passed and I'd begun to learn a thing or two. But still, I didn't want to be around for the hoopla.