"But guess what? I didn't write Falconer, so I'm a disgrace to everyone who loves me."

Economies have waxed and waned since The Onion had something as good as "How Come No One Celebrates My Alcoholism Like John Cheever's?".

Vice recently published a detailed account of Cheever's final binge.

A taste of the fun:

Back home he demanded a drink, and when his family protested, he asked if he might take a valium instead; given the go-ahead, he swallowed three and poured himself a drink. During the Christmas feast, a hush fell over the table as he tried to eat peas: Time after time, suspensefully, the trembling fork ascended, only to spill its savory burden at the crucial moment. At last, a spoon was suggested. “I regret to tell you,” said Cheever (putting the fork aside), “that you have a father who is dying.”