Garrison Keillor remembers Updike’s birthday

Although The Writer’s Almanac featured a poem by Tom Hennen yesterday, unabashed Updike fan Garrison Keillor still remembered the author’s birthday with a nice long biographical summary, lest anyone forget:

“It’s the birthday of writer John Updike (books by this author), born in Reading, Pennsylvania (1932). His father was a high school teacher, and his mother aspired to be a writer; Updike said: ‘One of my earliest memories is of seeing her at her desk. I admired the writer’s equipment, the typewriter eraser, the boxes of clean paper. And I remember the brown envelopes that stories would go off in — and come back in.’ As a boy, Updike wanted to be a cartoonist, not a writer. He cut out comic strips and sent fan letters to cartoonists, drew caricatures of classmates, made posters, and tried to draw cartoons like the ones he saw in his family’s copy of The New Yorker. As a teenager, he sent his cartoons to major magazines, including The New Yorker, and although he didn’t publish any there, he did earn five dollars selling a cartoon to a dairy journal. He went to Harvard, where he joined the staff of The Harvard Lampoon as a cartoonist, but ended up writing too. By graduation, he was fairly certain that he would become a writer instead of an artist. He said of writing: ‘It took fewer ideas, and I seemed to be better at it. There is less danger of smearing the ink.’

“Despite his intentions to become a writer, he got an art scholarship to study at Oxford. He was newly married, and he and his wife moved to England, where their first daughter was born. While he was at Oxford, he met E.B. and Katherine White, who were vacationing in England. They convinced him to apply for a job at The New Yorker, so after his time at Oxford, he moved to Manhattan to work as a staff writer for the magazine, writing the ‘Talk of the Town’ column. He was not a big fan of life in the city — he said, ‘The place proved to be other than the Fred Astaire movies had led me to expect.’ Two years later, the Updikes had a second child and decided to leave New York and move toIpswich, Massachusetts. Updike had just turned 25 years old.

“Soon after his move, he published his first books: a book of poems, The Carpentered Hen (1958); a novel, The Poorhouse Fair (1959); and a book of short stories, The Same Door (1959). Another son was born in 1959, and a daughter 19 months later. Despite the success of those early years — in 1960 he published Rabbit, Run, the first of his great books featuring Rabbit Angstrom — he underwent a spiritual crisis. He said, ‘These remembered gray moments, in which my spirit could scarcely breathe, are scattered over a period of years; to give myself brightness and air I read Karl Barth and fell in love with other men’s wives.’

“After the birth of his third child, he had rented an office above a restaurant in Ipswich, and spent several hours each morning writing there. Throughout his 50-year career, he remained devoted to that schedule, writing about three pages every morning after breakfast, sometimes more if things were going well. He said: ‘Back when I started, our best writers spent long periods brooding in silence. Then they’d publish a big book and go quiet again for another five years. I decided to run a different kind of shop.’ He wanted to publish about one book a year, and took Sundays off for church, although later in his career he sometimes worked on Sundays too. In 2008, he said, ‘I’ve become a beast of the written word, a monster of a kind, in that it’s all I can do.’

“Updike published more than 60 books in his lifetime, including 28 novels. His books include Couples (1968), Rabbit is Rich (1981), The Witches of Eastwick (1984), and The Complete Henry Bech (2001).

“He said: ‘At the point where you get your writerly vocation you diminish your receptivity to experience. Being able to write becomes a kind of shield, a way of hiding, a way of too instantly transforming pain into honey.'”

Schlemiel Theory: On Cynthia Ozick’s Denunciation of Henry Bech

They say there’s a blog about everything, and yesterday at The Home of Schlemiel Theory a writer going by the user name mfeuer2012 published a piece “On Cynthia Ozick’s Denunciation of Henry Bech: John Updike’s Literary Portrayal of the Jew as Schlemiel,” the title of which may go a long ways toward explaining.

images-3Ozick called Bech “theologically hollow” and according to the author “her reasons for choosing such a term and making such a trenchant criticism of Updike’s attempt to represent a Jew are noteworthy. They give us a sense of how Ozick—and others—might criticize many of the schlemiels we see in literature and film today. It also gives us a glimpse of her criterion for what makes for a plausible Jewish character in Jewish American fiction.”

Citing other novels as well, the author writes, “Ozick’s gloss on these ‘de-Judaicized Jewish novelists’ foreshadows her rant on what is missing not just in Bech but in most Jewish writing today: knowledge of Jewish history. But this omission is not done out of neglect so much as what Ozick calls ‘autolobotomy.’ Wondering at this caricature of the Jew, Ozick suggests we think about how this would sound if this kind of portrayal were done with respect to real African-Americans.”

Later: “Updike, argues Ozick, loves Bech most when he is ‘thoroughly de-Beched’—when ‘Bech is most openly, most shrewdly, most strategically, most lyrically Updike’ (119). And this happens when the ‘Appropriate Reference Machine’ (ARM from here on) breaks down. At these moments of failure, Updike the theologian takes over.

“And in these moments, when the ARM breaks, there is a brief exposure to a Christeological kind of epiphany. However, this doesn’t transform Beck. Rather he returns to a kind of state that is . . . comical.”

Read the entire article.

Gopnik cites Updike in essay about American norms

Screen Shot 2015-03-18 at 6.50.09 AMAdam Gopnik‘s latest essay for The New Yorker on American norms, “Iran, Inequality, and the Battle of American Norms,” references John Updike:

“The play between norms and laws is one of the great subjects of literature. Should Achilles give back Hector’s body to the Trojans? It’s only a battlefield norm, but the Iliad turns on it. The great novels of norms—American norms, at least—are the four books in John Updike’s Rabbit series, which are, exactly, all about the price of accepting the norms that a middle-class society imposes on the average sensual male (or female) citizen. Harry (Rabbit) Angstrom marries his pregnant girlfriend, stays with her dutifully after various failed attempts at escape to a life of more immediate gratifications, and then has the ironic sense, as the books go on, that he is the only one in America still sticking to the old self-imprisoning norms. Group sex comes in the door, and the inhibitions go right out the window. Is it an entrapping net or a reassuring pattern of premade choices? It depends on which side of the norm you’re sitting.”

Updike bio makes the PEN Literary Awards long list

On March 12, PEN America announced the “longlists” (i.e., nominees) for the 2015 PEN Literary Awards in fiction, nonfiction, biography, essays, and translation, and Adam Begley’s Updike made the longlist for biography.

Also making the longlist in that category: Isabella, by Kirstin Downey; Rebel Yell: The Violence, Passion, and Redemption of Stonewall Jackson, by S.C. Gwynne; The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace, by Jeff Hobbs; John Quincy Adams, by Fred Kaplan; Strange Glory: A Life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, by Charles Marsh; Becoming Richard Pryor, by Scott Saul; The Queen’s Bed: An Intimate History of Elizabeth’s Court, by Anna Whitelock; Victoria, by A.N. Wilson; and Piero’s Light, by Larry Witham.

“Longlists Announced for the 2015 PEN Literary Awards”

Book nerd offers five interesting Updike facts


Screen Shot 2015-03-17 at 6.47.28 AMBrian Hoey
, a self-described “book nerd,” yesterday uploaded a piece for www.BooksTellYouWhy.com titled “Sex, Trash, and Eminem: Five Interesting Facts About John Updike,” one of which—that he couldn’t write sex scenes—is debatable.

But one “fact” may be new to the larger community of Updike readers and scholars:

4) His influence extends beyond Literature and into Rap Music.

“Or, at least, Eminem has read the firRabbitIsRichst installment in Updike’s ‘Rabbit’ tetrology, Rabbit, Run (1960). The noted rapper was, apparently, so moved as to nickname the protagonist in his 2002 film 8 Mile ‘Rabbit,’ laying claim to a revitalization of the white-American-everyman archetype that Updike so forcefully established five decades ago. The film’s soundtrack, too, referenced Updike’s contribution to the canon with a track entitled ‘Rabbit Run,’ for those who might have missed the first reference.”

Biographile.com offers collected bits of Updike wisdom

BiographileIn “Beautifully Mundane: 10 Bits of Everyday Wisdom from John Updike,” Biographile fills its this week in history column with Updike quotes in honor of the author’s upcoming March 18 birthday—what would have been his 83rd.

Noting Updike’s often-stated goal of trying to “give the mundane its beautiful due,” Biographile has “pulled together some of his most illuminating quotes that are sure to inspire you to view at least one small piece of your life a little more beautifully.”

1. “Halfway isn’t all the way, but it’s better than no way.” (Rabbit Redux, 1969)

2. “Looking foolish does the spirit good.” (Self-Consciousness: Memoirs, 1989)

3. “You don’t stop caring, champ….Once you care, you always care. That’s how stupid we are.” (Rabbit is Rich, 1981)

4. “Whenever somebody tells me to do something my instinct’s always to do the opposite. It’s got me into a lot of trouble, but I’ve had a lot of fun.” (Rabbit at Rest, 1990)

5. “The only way to get somewhere, you know, is to figure out where you’re going before you go there.” (Rabbit Run, 1960)

6. “No act is so private it does not seek applause.” (Couples, 1968)

7. “The size of a life is how you feel about it.” (Rabbit Remembered, 2000)

8. “When you feel irresistable, you’re hard to resist.” (Rabbit at Rest, 1990)

9. “Dreams come true; without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them.” (Self-Consciousness: Memoirs, 1989)

10. “Any decent kind of world, you wouldn’t need all these rules.” (Rabbit Redux, 1969)

Review of COSMIC DEFIANCE: UPDIKE’S KIERKEGAARD AND THE MAPLES STORIES

CosmicDefianceThere’s been talk among Updike scholars that there isn’t enough critical attention paid to the poems, short stories, and minor novels, and that there’s perhaps too much of an emphasis on autobiographical criticism. For them, David Crowe’s 352-page study, Cosmic Defiance: Updike’s Kierkegaard and the Maples Stories, should provide a welcome change.

Crowe, a full professor at Augustana College and a graduate of Luther College, includes Updike’s oft-quoted excerpt from Midpoint—“Praise Kierkegaard, who splintered Hegel’s creed / Upon the rock of Existential need; / Praise Barth, who told ho saving faith can flow from Terror’s oscillating Yes and No . . . . ”—but concentrates his study on the Danish philosopher and theologian.

At first reading, it seemed slow going in the first chapter, which is really a compressed summary of all that Crowe covers in the rest of the book, peppered with language like “as we will later see.” But a rereading of it yields a number of to-the-point summary statements that frame Updike in numerous ways that haven’t hitherto been proposed.  Chapter 1 may pose a similar first-read obstacle if one breezes past the concepts and assumptions and conclusions that can feel too general, without enough quotation to anchor them. But again, a rereading of the text proves fruitful. After that the intro and first chapter, though, Cosmic Defiance becomes practically indispensable.

Crowe treats the Maples stories as a whole in his first three chapters, including a useful timeline of the Maples’ relationship. Chapters 2 and 3—“The Neighbor-Love Problem for the Rather Antinomian Believer” and “Kierkegaard’s Marital Ideality and Updike’s Reality”—also offer discussions that center on broad thematic concepts but with more detail. And with Chapter 4: “Identity transformation and the Maples Marriage,” Crowe really hits his stride, integrating basic discussions of Kierkegaard’s philosophies with  specific discussions of Updike’s stories that make you see those stories differently. Continue reading

Irish journalist picks her favorite fictional moms

Screen Shot 2015-03-15 at 10.36.10 AMMother’s Day is approaching and The Irish Times today ran a piece by literary correspondent Eileen Battersby.

In “Eileen Battersby picks her favorite fictional mums for Mother’s Day,” the journalist names John Steinbeck’s Ma Joad (The Grapes of Wrath) as one of her favorites. She also cites moms who appeared in fiction by James Stephen, Virginia Woolf, Louisa May Alcott, Jane Austen, Cynthia Ozick, Thomas Wolfe, Tim Winton, Paul Smith, Toni Morrison, Harriette Arrow, William Maxwell, Bertolt Brecht, Sun-Mi Hwang, and John Updike.

Which mom could it possible be from the Updike canon, you wonder? Certainly not Ma Springer or Harry’s mom, and of course Janice is a big no. The mothers from The Witches of Eastwick were hardly moms at all. The mom from Of the Farm? Close.

Battersby admires the mother remembered in Updike’s prize-winning short story, “A Sandstone Farmhouse,” which was republished in The Afterlife and Other Stories by John Updike (1995).

“In this wonderful story, among his finest, the great Updike describes a middle-aged man, Joey, remembering his mother at various stages of her life. It is a story about his mother, and about every mother, because every mother was also once a very different person. At the heart of the story is the mother’s determination to move her family, her parents as well as her son, to the family home she set out to restore. It is about how a mother returned to her family home and sustained it was the place where both her vital years and her old age were spent.”

Pictured is Ma Joad from John Ford’s film version of Steinbeck’s Dustbowl novel, who gets one of the film’s best lines:  “Rich fellas come up an’ they die, an’ their kids ain’t no good an’ they die out. But we keep a’comin’. We’re the people that live. They can’t wipe us out; they can’t like us. We’ll go on forever, Pa, ’cause we’re the people.”

Online essay considers John Updike’s Religion

Screen Shot 2015-03-15 at 10.22.14 AMRecently The Witherspoon Institute Public Discourse website featured a post by Gerald R. McDermott in the “Literature, Religion and the Public Square” subsection on “‘A Rather Antinomian Christianity’: John Updike’s Religion.” 

“How could a man be so religious and yet be so enthusiastic for infidelity?” McDermott asks.

“The answer seems to lie in his religion. It was a strange sort of Christianity that rejected the structures of traditional faith, choosing divine comfort while rejecting divine commands. In other words, it was gospel without law, grace without repentance, the love of God without the holiness of God.

“To be sure, Updike held on to parts of historic Christian belief. He rejected materialism as a failure to make sense of emotion and conscience, and defended Christ’s divinity against his first wife’s Unitarianism. At the same time, he took from Kierkegaard the idea that Christian faith is subjective, not a conclusion from rationality or objectivity. So he insisted that resurrection from the dead is ‘unthinkable’ to the modern mind, that God can be known only as ‘the self projected onto reality’ by our natural optimism, and that the closer one moves toward Christianity the more it disappears, ‘as a fog solidly opaque in the distance thins to transparency when you walk into it.’

“Updike’s Christianity was a religion of self-affirmation. His greatest fears were of death and its threat of nothingness. But religion, he wrote, ‘enables us to ignore nothingness and get on with the jobs of life.'”

Updike makes a Pi Day reading list

ProblemsPaste Magazine today featured a booklist post from Tyler Kane on “8 Entertaining Math-Inspired Reads for Pi Day.”

Topping the list was An Abundance of Katherines by John Green, better known for The Fault in Our Stars. Right behind him was John Cheever’s The Geometry of Love, followed by Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow, David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park, The Number of the Beast by Robert A. Heinlein, John Updike’s Problems, and Brandon Sanderson’s The Rithmatist.

Of Problems, Kane writes, “Abandoning your family is as easy as simple math in John Updike’s bummer tale of domestic frustration. You’re treated to pages of a logic puzzle, dealing with the causes and effects that occur when A, B and C interact. Here, we see our main character juggling laundry, his children’s expenses and psychiatric visits—all in a new life with a younger woman. The worst part? This all looks easier on paper.”