Not to hold a grudge, but: Why I don't like Amos Oz

Not to hold a grudge, but, here's why I don't like Amos Oz: In the '80s, I was books editor for the Providence Journal, and one of the pleasures and responsibilities of the job was interviewing many of the great authors who came to Rhode Island, often to Brown U., to read and discuss their work. I won't go through the list, but there were lots of great writers, many emerging writers, some highly commercial, and so on. Universally, they were delighted to have the chance to do an interview with the local paper, especially if the critic (me) had actually read their works and was interested in literature. The one exception was Oz - he came to Brown, and absolutely declined, through the news bureau, an interview request. Now I don't mind if it's a principled position - if they author wants to be reclusive like Pynchon or even elusive, giving readings and letting the work speak for itself. But you'll notice that Oz does many interviews with the NYTimes and with other journals that he thought could help him in some way but, gee, I guess the Providence Journal was just some hick local paper and he couldn't be bothered. So, feeling's mutual. I have never read Oz since then. But he has a story, The King of Norway, in the current New Yorker, and I did read it. Wish I could still hold a grudge, but it's not a bad story, just rather slight. He establishes a very interesting character, a guy on a Kibbutz who is constantly monitoring the news and providing reports of deaths and disasters. Good premise, but nothing much happens with him - he gets briefly involved with a woman, pushes her away (he's apparently either a trauma survivor or somewhere on the autism spectrum or maybe both), she reacts by having a series of semi-scandalous relationships, he goes on with his gloom. Is this a fragment from a longer work? As a story, it shows Oz's deft hand at sketching characters an at describing life on a Kibbutz (not sure the time period but seems pretty long ago) but he doesn't do much with the material within the tight space of the story. Maybe he'll tell me - or somebody - why.