The Michener formula might seem an unlikely one for the media age: big, old-fashioned narratives weaving generations of fictional families through densely documented factual events, celebrating the All-American virtues of common sense, frugality, patriotism.
''Tales of the South Pacific,'' his first published fiction, won the 1948 Pulitzer Prize, but only when he moved from small stories of people to monolithic tales of places - beginning with the fictionalized history of ''Hawaii'' in 1959 through Israel in ''The Source,'' South Africa in ''The Covenant,'' ''Poland,'' ''Chesapeake'' and ''Space'' - did he become the kind of brand-name author whose books hit the best-seller lists before they reach the bookstores.
No one doubts Michener's instinct for popular taste, but he was never average. Indeed, a few days later, he misses out on the last of the shrimp at a private club, and on both evenings Michener, on stage in his own low-key way, responds with the same laugh and the same line: ''Harris and Gallup don't have to make all those phone calls to find out what people think. Michener has a knack for choosing the most popular item on a menu. An apologetic waiter has returned to say the kitchen is out of the roast duck Michener ordered, and the dinner becomes part of a running joke betwen the author and his right-hand man, John Kings. Yet moments later, he is chuckling, with a modesty and a teasing sense of humor that are endearing. Michener's many unexpected traits - this author, renowned for his curiosity, does not seem curious about other people he rarely meets your eyes. But it is the most surprising of James A. It is impossible for someone who has just met him to know whether this signals shyness, boredom, the self-absorption of an obsessive writer or the natural distraction of a 78-year-old, tired and hungry at the end of a long day. The elderly gentleman sitting quietly in an Austin, Tex., restaurant, hands folded before him, tends to stare straight ahead into space.
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