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UNLIKELY_CONFESSION

In "The Dark of the Moon" (1967), 
by John Dickson Carr, one of the character's
suddenly admits: 

 "I don't like Joyce a bit; I absolutely loathe Proust;  
  I can't bow down before *any* of the sacred cows.  I'm as 
  conservative as you are or more so, politically speaking; 
  only I lack your nerve at opposing popular trends and 
  telling the intellectuals to go to hell."     

Ah, Carr... 1967 and he was still ranting about
Joyce and Proust!  What, no unkind words for Kerouac? 


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