Alt-Media cites Updike’s The Coup

An “Alternative Media” site recently ran an opinion piece masquerading as news (“The Coming White Flight in Europe”) that quotes a big chunk of John Updike’s satirical 1978 novel, The Coup.

“Since the future of the world will be heavily influenced by the huge number of Sahelians headed our way, here’s the opening of John Updike’s 1978 novel The Coup, in which he describes a fictionalized Sahelian country much like Niger. Keep in mind, however, that the population of Niger in 1978 was 5.7 million. Today it is 21.5 million. In another 39 years, the span of time since Updike’s novel, it is expected to grow to 81.4 million. The Coup begins with the Col. Gadaffi-like Col. Ellellou writing his memoirs in a Nabokovian-Updikean prose style:

“‘My country of Kush, landlocked between the mongrelized, neo-capitalist puppet states of Zanj and Sahel, is small for Africa, though larger than any two nations of Europe. Its northern half is Saharan; in the south, forming the one boundary not drawn by a Frenchman’s ruler, a single river flows, the Grionde, making possible a meagre settled agriculture. Peanuts constitute the principal export crop: the doughty legumes are shelled by the ton and crushed by village women in immemorial mortars or else by antiquated presses manufactured in Lyons; then the barrelled oil is caravanned by camelback and treacherous truck to Dakar, where it is shipped to Marseilles to become the basis of heavily perfumed and erotically contoured soaps designed not for my naturally fragrant and affectionate countrymen but for the antiseptic lavatories of America — America, that fountainhead of obscenity and glut. Our peanut oil travels westward the same distance as eastward our ancestors plodded, their neck-shackles chafing down to the jugular, in the care of Arab traders, to find from the flesh-markets of Zanzibar eventual lodging in the harems and palace guards of Persia and Chinese Turkestan. Thus Kush spreads its transparent wings across the world. The ocean of desert between the northern border and the Mediterranean littoral once knew a trickling traffic in salt for gold, weight for weight; now this void is disturbed only by Swedish playboys fleeing cold boredom in Volvos that soon forfeit their seven coats of paint to the rasp of sand and the roar of their engines to the omnivorous howl of the harmattan. They are skeletons before their batteries die. Would that Allah had so disposed of all infidel intruders!’

“‘To the south, beyond the Grionde, there is forest, nakedness, animals, fever, chaos. It bears no looking into. Whenever a Kushite ventures into this region, he is stricken with mal à l’estomac.’

“‘Kush is a land of delicate, delectable emptiness, …’

“‘In area Kush measures 126,912,180 hectares. The population density comes to .03 per hectare. In the vast north it is virtually immeasurable. The distant glimpsed figure blends with the land as the blue hawk blends with the sky. There are twenty-two miles of railroad and one hundred seven of paved highway. Our national airline, Air Kush, consists of two Boeing 727′s, stunning as they glitter above the also glittering tin shacks by the airfield. … The natives extract ingenious benefits from the baobab tree, weaving mats from its fibrous heart, ropes from its inner bark, brewing porridge and glue and a diaphoretic for dysentery from the pulp of its fruit, turning the elongated shells into water scoops, sucking the acidic and refreshing seeds, and even boiling the leaves, in desperate times, into a kind of spinach. When are times not desperate? Goats eat the little baobab trees, so there are only old giants. The herds of livestock maintained by the tribes of pastoral nomads have been dreadfully depleted by the drought. The last elephant north of the Grionde gave up its life and its ivory in 1959, with a bellow that still reverberates. “The toubabs took the big ears with them,” is the popular saying. Both Sahel and Zanj possess quantities of bauxite, manganese, and other exploitable minerals, but aside from a streak of sulphur high in the Bulub Mountains the only known mineral deposit in Kush is the laterite that renders great tracts of earth unarable, (I am copying these facts from an old Statesman’s Year-Book, freely, here where I sit in sight of the sea, so some of them may be obsolete.) In the north there were once cities of salt populated by slaves, who bred and worshipped and died amid the incessant cruel glisten; these mining settlements, supervised by the blue-clad Tuareg, are mere memories now.’

“‘But even memory thins in this land, which suggests, on the map, an angular skull whose cranium is the empty desert. Along the lower irregular line of the jaw, carved by the wandering brown river, there was a king, the Lord of Wanjiji, whose physical body was a facet of God so radiant that a curtain of gold flakes protected the eyes of those entertained in audience from his glory; and this king, restored to the throne as a constitutional monarch in the wake of the loi-cadre of 1956 and compelled to abdicate after the revolution of 1968, has been all but forgotten. Conquerors and governments pass before the people as dim rumors, as entertainment in a hospital ward. Truly, mercy is interwoven with misery in the world wherever we glance.’

“‘Among the natural resources of Kush perhaps should be listed our diseases-an ample treasury which includes, besides famine and its edema and kwashiorkor, malaria, typhus, yellow fever, sleeping sickness, leprosy, bilharziasis, onchocerciasis, measles, and yaws. As these are combatted by the genius of science, human life itself becomes a disease of the overworked, eroded earth. The average life expectancy in Kush is thirty-seven years, the per capita gross national product $79, the literacy rate 6%.’

“‘The official currency is the lu. The flag is a plain green field. The form of government is a constitutional monarchy with the constitution suspended and the monarch deposed. An eleven-man Supreme Counseil Revolutionnaire et Militaire pour l’Emergence serves as the executive arm of the government and also functions as its legislature. The pure and final socialism envisioned by Marx, the theocratic populism of Islam’s periodic reform movements: these transcendent models guide the council in all decisions. SCRME’S chairman, and the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, Minister of National Defense, and President of Kush was (is, the Statesman’s Year-Book has it) Colonel Hakim Felix Ellellou–that is to say, myself.'”

Begley cites Updike in his new biography of The Great Nadar

In his new well-reviewed biography, The Great Nadar: The Man Behind the Camera, Updike biographer Adam Begley writes,

“I saw the exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum, and Nadar instantly claimed a place in my private pantheon of great artists. But as John Updike observed in his review of the show, ‘Photography is a matter of time’—nearly twenty years passed before I tried to find out about Nadar’s life. The catalyst was Julian Barnes’s Levels of Life, an unusual book, part essay, part short story, part memoir, in which Barnes briefly sketches the contours of Nadar’s curious career and irrepressible character. Thanks to Barnes, Félix charmed me, as he had charmed so many others. And so I went back to the photographs to look again.”

“The Great Nadar by Adam Begley — Kirkus Reviews: “A lively portrait of a photography pioneer who altered the cultural landscape of 19th-century France.

Amazon link

Updike is still frequently anthologized

American short story master Raymond Carver leads the pack when it comes to writers whose stories appear most frequently in anthologies, but right behind him are John Updike and Joyce Carol Oates.

Literary Hub‘s Emily Temple looked at 20 short fiction anthologies published between 1983 and 2017. She says she also consulted the “best of” and “prize” anthologies. Carver turned up in 15 of them, while Updike and Oates appeared in 14. From there it was Flannery O’Connor (13), Richard Ford and Tim O’Brien (12), John Cheever and Tobias Wolff (11), Donald Barthelme (10), and tied with nine each were James Baldwin, Ann Beattie, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, James Joyce, Jamaica Kincaid, Edgar Allan Poe, and Eudora Welty.

The most frequently anthologized story was Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried” (10), followed by Baldwin’s “Sonny’s Blues,” Kincaid’s “Girl,” and then Carver’s “Cathedral” with seven appearances.

Updike’s stories that appeared in those 14 anthologies were:

“A&P” (3)
“Separating” (2)
“Brother Grasshopper”
“Packed Dirt, Churchgoing, a Dying Cat, a Traded Car”
“Pigeon Feathers”
“The Lucid Eye in Silver Town”
“The Christian Roommates”
“The Persistence of Desire”
“Gesturing”
“The Brown Chest”
“Here Come the Maples”

It’s worth noting that three of the stories, accounting for four appearances, come from The Maples Stories, a related series of stories based on Updike’s marriage to his first wife, Mary.

“The Most Anthologized Short Stories of All Time: A (Mostly) Definitive List” 

Writers pass along Updike advice

Caleb and Linda Pirtle are writers, and in a recent blogpost they quoted advice from “John Updike: A giant of American literature” that begins with the title: “John Updike: Five pages a day every day of your life.”

Writers write. It can be that simple.

“John Updike, he of the bushy eyebrows and hawkish nose, had a distinct style of prose that was described as baroque, exquisite, and prolifically poetic. He did win a couple of Pulitzer Prizes, a pair of National Book Awards, and the Pen/Faulkner Award. And such novels as Couples and Witches of Eastwick, not to mention his quartet of Rabbit Angstrom novels, have a definite place on the top shelf of American literature.

“His name is widely known.

“His work is widely praised.

“Yet, John Updike, the man, was very private. Not a recluse, perhaps, but, it’s said, he cultivated his embowered solitude and would rather sit amidst isolation in his home on the Massachusetts shore and write.

“No one wrote more.

“He left an unending trail of fiction, poetry, essays, and criticism, most of which appeared rather regularly in The New Yorker. In addition, he published almost one book a year for more than a half century.”

Read the advice that Updike gave writers, which Caleb Pirtle passes along.

What’s singer Tom Odell reading? Updike!

Vogue magazine interviewed British singer-songwriter Tom Odell before he embarked on a two-month European tour, and one of the questions was What book are you currently reading?

Rabbit, Run by John Updike. I read it once before when I was a lot younger; it’s about a very brilliant sports star who just sort of gets up and leaves his family. It’s very gritty, it’s somewhere between John Steinbeck and Charles Bukowski,” the 26 year old said. That, by the way, was Rabbit’s age in the first book.

Odell’s debut studio album, Long Way Downwas released in June 2013 and his second album, Wrong Crowd, was released in December 2016, along with the Christmas EP Spending All My Christmas with You.

“Five Minutes With . . . Tom Odell”

Blogger says Hollywood’s Rabbit is a ‘dumb lug’


Updike’s most famous character, Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom, appears in Insomnia File #26—or at least the Hollywood version of him does.

Blogger Lisa Marie Bowman writes about her late-night viewing—”You know how sometimes you just can’t get any sleep and, at about three in the morning, you’ll find yourself watching whatever you can find on cable? This feature is all about those insomnia-inspired discoveries!”—and this time her wheel of fortune stopped on the 1970 film version of Rabbit, Run, which aired on TCM.

Her rather hilarious and insightful 3 a.m. reaction?

Rabbit, Run is the epitome of a dumb lug film. In a dumb lug film, a male character finds himself living an unfulfilling life but he can’t figure out the reason. Why can’t he figure it out? Because he’s a dumb lug, with an emphasis on dumb. Usually the viewer is supposed to sympathize with the dumb lug because he doesn’t mean to hurt anyone and everyone else in his world is somehow even more annoying than he is. Typically, the dumb lug will have an emotionally distant wife who refuses to have sex with him and who is usually portrayed as being somehow at fault for everything bad that has happened in the dumb lug’s face. (Want to see a more recent dumb lug film than Rabbit, Run? American Beauty.) . . .

Rabbit, Run is based on a highly acclaimed novel by John Updike. I haven’t read the novel so I can’t compare it to the film, beyond pointing out that many great works of literature have been turned into mediocre movies, largely because the director never found a way to visually translate whatever it was that made the book so memorable in the first place. Rabbit, Run was directed by Jack Smight, who takes a rather frantic approach to the material. Since Rabbit, Run is primarily a character study, it needed a director who would be willing to get out of the way and let the actors dominate the film. Instead, Smight over directs, as if he was desperately trying to prove that he could keep up with all the other trendy filmmakers. The whole movie is full of extreme close-ups, abrupt jump cuts, intrusive music, and delusions of ennui. You find yourself wishing that someone had been willing to grab Smight and shout, ‘Calm down!'”

Read the full blog entry, (which features an embedded trailer for the film that looks more like a parody of a Rabbit, Run trailer)

 

Volume published on Legendary Authors and the Clothes They Wore

If you like literature and coffee table books, you might enjoy Legendary Authors and the Clothes They Wore, by Terry Newman.

“Out of the 50 writers included in the book—from T.S. Eliot and George Sand to Malcolm Gladwell and Joyce Carol Oates—there wasn’t one, Ms. Newman said, who didn’t prove a rich subject as she combed through their writing and interviews. Though they often overtly rejected the diktats of the runway, in doing so they drafted diktats of their own.”

“In the same way that pet owners sometimes come to resemble their animals, writers often come to resemble their discourse (or, in the case of John Updike, their main character — which is to say, suburbia). Ms. Stern refers to it as a ‘stylistic earmark.’ And she is not referring to just those authors who are part of the ‘write what you know’ contingent, or those who use their own life as fodder for their imagination.”

from “Your Literary Idols and Their Wardrobes,” by Vanessa Friedman (NY Times 29 June 2017)

Irish summer reading list includes Updike

The Irish Times just published “Suitcase full of stories: writers and readers on their summer reading,” subtitled “Ireland’s best-known writers and readers share what will be in their suitcases.”

John Kelly, a radio personality whose six-episode program, “The Reading List,” began airing yesterday, July 4, on RTÉ Radio 1 on Tuesdays at 10 p.m., chose an Updike book for his summer reading:

“The Reading List now on RTE Radio 1 developed from a more personal project—i.e., to read nothing this year but Penguin Modern Classics. Some have been re-reads but mostly these are books I should have read a long time ago. A Clockwork Orange, Wide Sargasso Sea, Herzog, Another Country, Bonjour Tristesse, A Rage in Harlem, The Haunting of Hill House, Cat’s Cradle, Breakfast at Tiffany’s and such. I try to alternate the “easy reads” with the less so, and with that in mind I highly recommend The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth and The Captive Mind by Czeslaw Milosz. My own plan for the summer is Updike’s The Witches of Eastwick and having recently re-read Nineteen Eighty-Four, It Can’t Happen Here by Sinclair Lewis.

The Reading List with John Kelly is on RTÉ Radio 1 Tuesdays at 10pm. Six episodes starting July 4th.

U and I and Ian Brown

The Globe and Mail recently published a summer reading feature and asked staff to share “The book that changed me.”

“Nicholson Baker’s U and I: A True Story changed the way I thought about books, writers, writing, reading and what it meant to be honest on the page. That’s quite a lot for one book to have accomplished.

“U and I is a (short) book-length essay about Baker’s obsession with John Updike – a writer his mother admired (she once laughed out loud at Updike’s description, in describing a golf game, of a ‘divot the size of an undershirt’), and whom Baker thereupon wanted to emulate. The book begins with Baker deciding not to write about Donald Barthelme, who had just died, but to write about Updike instead, because the stakes in writing about a living writer seemed higher, more consequential.

“At that point, the book departs from convention completely: Baker admits, for instance, that he has only read half a dozen of Updike’s more than 20 novels (he wrote nearly 60 books, in total). But lack of familiarity never stops a young writer from being obsessed by an older one! In fact, it’s lack of familiarity that stokes the obsession. And how obsessive he is! Baker wants to be Updike: He notes that, while he doesn’t golf, they both have psoriasis, both on their penises – which Baker desperately hopes gives them something in common. Of course, as the always hilarious, brilliant, stylish and readable Baker eventually reveals, what they really share is the ability to experience the world ecstatically.

“Baker somehow manages to take an ancient, rather pompous genre – the literary essay of writerly appreciation – and turn it into something it has never been before, an utterly candid, and therefore shocking, examination of the way we really read, and use books, as opposed to the way we pretend to read, loaded down by all our cultural pretensions. Baker thinks the stuff we forget we’ve read is more important than what we remember: Throughout the book, he keeps quoting Updike from memory, and then exposing how shoddy his memory is, by revealing the actual passage he thinks he’s remembering.

“And it’s very funny, and the story never flags. But I guess what I admire most about U and I is its compassion: for Updike, his industriousness and his failures; for the impossible challenge of writing – and living – honestly, and how often we fail at both; for, most of all, readers, via Baker’s assumption that every reader will want to admit the truth about themselves and books, and therefore feel freer than they were when they started the book. That’s what reading’s all about, isn’t it?”

Amazon link