Your own Golf Dreams should include a course in Essex, Mass.

Pamela Tomlin recently posted a travel article on “14 Places to Explore on Massachusetts’ North Shore,” and included was Cape Ann Golf Course in Essex:

“Looking to tee it up? Here is a North Shore hidden gem of a small golf course. The family-run public, nine-hole course has been open since 1913, and golfers agree the sweeping views of the Essex River and Marsh make any bad game good. The number four hole is their signature that famed author John Updike enjoyed frequently playing. Learn more here. Updike, of course, wrote a book about his love of the game (Golf Dreams: Writings on Golf, 1996).

Though Updike wasn’t mentioned by name, other entries also apply. Those who attended the Second Biennial John Updike Society Conference in Boston and enjoyed a group dinner at Woodman’s of Essex know that Updike loved the fried clams there. He also enjoyed getting some sun at Crane Beach in Ipswich.

All-TIME Best Non-Fiction Book list includes Updike

Book Advice just released a list of All-TIME Best Non-Fiction Books, and with 1142 of them listed you’d expect that just about every major author would be included. They’re rated, and the Top 10 feature some pretty heavy hitters:

  1. Essays by Michel de Montaigne
  2. Confessions by Augustine
  3. The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud
  4. The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli
  5. On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin
  6. Walden by Henry David Thoreau
  7. Pensées by Blaise Pascal
  8. The Republic by Plato
  9. The Complete Works of Plato by Plato
  10. The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

Among fiction writers, Virginia Woolf (A Room of One’s Own, 1929) placed the highest at #31, followed by Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood (1966, #42). Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast clocked in at #64, but you’d have to add a digit to that to get to Updike’s entry:  Self-Consciousness (1989), at #638.

 

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” 

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

Updike and others on symbolism

In 1963, a 16 year old was tired of hearing about symbolism from his English teacher, wondering, as many students still do, if teachers read too much into a literary work. So he mailed a four-question survey to 150 novelists asking them about symbolism in their work. Exactly half of them responded, among them John Updike. Had young Bruce McAllister sent that survey just three years earlier, he could have included Ernest Hemingway, who famously once remarked, “All symbolism is shit.”

Specifically, McAllister wanted their opinion of symbolism in The Scarlet Letter, which his class was reading, but some of the responses were more general . . . and eye-opening.

MacKinlay Kantor (Andersonville, Gettysburg) was the most blunt:  “Nonsense, young man, write your own research paper. Don’t expect others to do the work for you.

Jack Kerouac offered the briefest response to the question of placing symbolism in his work. “No,” Kerouac wrote back.

“Consciously?” Isaac Asimov responded. “Heavens, no! Unconsciously? How can one avoid it?”

Normal Mailer defined the best symbols as “those you become aware of only after you finish the work,” while Ralph Ellison seemed more reflective and representative of the writer’s method:  “Symbolism arises out of action. . . . Once a writer is conscious of the implicit symbolism which arises in the course of a narrative, he may take advantage of them and manipulate them consciously as a further resource of his art.”

John Updike, meanwhile, spoke along the lines of writer-as-mystic, answering “Yes” to the question of whether he consciously, intentionally places symbolism in his writing, adding, “I have no method; there is no method in writing fiction; you don’t seem to understand.”

To the question of whether readers ever infer what is not intended, Updike responded, “Once in a while—usually they do not (see the) symbols that are there.”

Asked if he feels the great writers of classics consciously put symbols in their works, Updike wrote, “Some of them did (Joyce, Dante) more than others (Homer) but it is impossible to think of any significant work of narrative art without a symbolic dimension of some sort.”

As for the last question, whether he has anything to add that’s pertinent to a study of symbols, Updike sounded like Kantor:  “It would be better for you to do your own thinking on this sort of thing.”

Read the full Mental Floss article.

Updike among authors who made readers wait?

John Updike wasn’t only one of America’s greatest writers; he was also among the most prolific, averaging a book a year during his long career. So it’s more than a little surprising to see his name turn up on a list of “Authors who have made us wait for their books,” which was recently published in the Life & Style section of The Times of India.

But the concept is this:  the gap between an original book and a sequel.

“Author John Updike took a gap of 24 years between his books The Witches of Eastwick (1984) and The Widows of Eastwick. Updike revisited the witches more than two decades later to wrap their story up before he died less than a year later in 2009. He explained why he wrote the sequel: ‘Taking those women into old age would be a way of writing about old age, my old age.'” (Photo credit: Wikipedia).

On semicolons and writers

Data is everywhere these days, but Ben Blatt offers a wonderfully refreshing apolitical crunching of numbers in a Slate article that asks the question, “Do Semicolons Make You Pretentious?”

His conclusion?

“While semicolons are more present in the Pulitzer winners on the whole, it’s not a necessary condition to have them to appeal to literary circles. Some writers, like Larry McMurtry, whose Pulitzer Prize–winning Lonesome Dove had almost 650 semicolons per 100,000 words, choose to use them often; others, like Cormac McCarthy, who won a Pulitzer for The Road without using a single semicolon, choose to follow [Kurt] Vonnegut’s advice and avoid them.”

Updike credited for redux revival

Redux. From the Latin, meaning, “to lead back.” And an article on “The Top 10 Words That Died and Were Reborn,” written by John Rentoul and published in The Independent, credits John Updike for the revival:

“Redux. Excellent nomination from Steve, who pointed out that it was popularised by John Updike. Rabbit Redux, 1971, was the second of his Rabbit series. Mostly used in fairly upmarket US commentary, it means brought back, revived, and dates from the late 19th century, from Latin, reducere “bring back.'”

The article is interactive, with terms suggested by various people, and in that spirit we suggest you try using all 10 words in a sentence. You know Updike could do it.

Article rounds up writers throwing shade at one another

In an April 24, 2017 article published on Signature: Making Well-Read Sense of the World, Tom Blunt speaks, well, bluntly about how common it is “for authors to end up creatively sharpening their claws on each other,” with writerly rivalries spawning “some of history’s most savage put-downs, capitalizing on the fragile egos and insecurities that haunt anyone who pushes together words for a living.”

Keats “throws shade” at Byron, and Byron throws it back . . . after Keats’s death. H.G. Wells criticizes Henry James, Mark Twain and Virginia Woolf rip Jane Austen, Dickens has something unkind to say about houseguest H.C. Andersen, Mary McCarthy minces no words in a put-down of Lillian Hellman, Dorothy Parker zings Norman Mailer, Ayn Rand responds to C.S. Lewis’s criticism, Vladimir Nabokov gets snarky with Edmund Wilson, Hemingway badmouths Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein badmouths Hemingway, and Salman Rushdie tosses John Updike under a (Las Vegas) bus.

The latter is attributed to a 2006 interview Rushdie gave: “Somewhere in Las Vegas there’s probably a male prostitute called ‘John Updike.'”

Read the full article:  “The Library Is Open: 13 Instances of Writers Throwing Shade at One Another.”