I'm sure he's a nice young man. Well meaning.

But I'm betting he hasn't yet read The Garden of Eden*. Spend a day with that one, and tell me you still have the same manly image of Ernest. Ka-blam. When he realized he couldn't write anymore, he blew his head off. That's the example you're really looking for here, my friend. Because good writing is true writing. Right?
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*I heard there's a work in progress, a memoir, by one of Gregory/Gloria's children, to feature correspondence between the father and son. That's sure to shed more light on the man behind the writer, if that floats your boat. For me, the work is enough. The work, and a clean and well lighted place. You can keep your intrigue, your own projections, about the basic man behind the work. Reputations wax and wane; sometimes it takes an old man to understand working for the daily bread.