Updike died . . . and got better, writer says

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In “How John Updike Died and Got Better,” an essay that’s both artful and thoughtful, Alexander Sorondo wrote, “John Updike wrote and published constantly for 40 years. More than 70 titles. Thousands of articles. Mostly for The New Yorker. He sold millions of books and his Rabbit Angstrom quartet is celebrated as a pillar of American literary achievement in the 20th century. . . . Couples was a hit. It earned him $1 million if you include the $400,000 movie rights. . . . It got him on the cover of Time magazine. He was on there again in 1982 when Rabbit Is Rich won a Pulitzer and a National Book Award and a National Book Critics Circle Award. Ten years later he published a sequel and they gave him another Pulitzer for it (only the third American to ever win it twice). Then a PEN/Faulkner Award after that and he got a Guggenheim too at some point. He appeared multiple times on Dick Cavett and Charlie Rose and he was the subject of documentaries and biographies and critical anthologies and an academic periodical that endures to this day.

“He died in 2009.

“And then everyone stopped reading him.

“I think they’ll start again,” Sorondo wrote.

Read the rest of his 16-part essay

Writer says Updike changed his literary life

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William J. Donahue just published a piece on his blog that first appeared in the fall/winter 2024 edition of Neshaminy: The Bucks County Historical and Literary Journal as part of a feature story about John Updike, who was born in adjacent Berks County.

In “The Writer Who Changed Me More Than Any Other,” Donahue wrote, “Prior to the summer of 2009, the name John Updike meant almost nothing to me. All I knew was that he belonged to a certain class of writer—white, male, and, as of January 27 of that year, dead.”

“Everything changed when a college professor friend introduced me to one of Updike’s best-known short stories, ‘A&P,'” he wrote. “A coming-of-age story about herring snacks, Queenie’s scandalously bare shoulders, and Sammy’s gesture of occupational seppuku, ‘A&P’ opened my eyes to something new. It also compelled me to explore Updike’s short-story collections, followed by his longer works: the Rabbit novels, Couples, Of the Farm, Marry Me, S., A Month of Sundays, etc. His novel-slash-collection The Maples Stories, which catalogs the adolescence, life, death, and afterlife of a specific New England couple’s marriage, had the greatest impact on me.

“Like his other novels, Maples features rich prose that reminds me of a well-crafted poem. The story follows Joan and Richard Maple, imperfect spouses who struggle and persevere, expand and contract, destroy themselves, and then find their respective paths to post-divorce reinvention. As someone who spent much of his thirties wrestling with his own personal and professional bugbears, I found Maples inspiring, if not prescriptive.”

Read the whole article

Updike’s early unpublished novel may soon lose the ‘un’

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Trevor Meek, of The Local News (Ipswich, Mass.), published a Jan. 31, 2026 piece on the Selected Letters of John Updike that began,

“Living in Ipswich in the 1960s and ’70s with John Updike as a neighbor meant playing a high-stakes game of literary roulette. “On any given day, you might crack open his newest novel or short story to discover you’d been immortalized — or perhaps skewered — on a page destined to be read by millions around the world. “That uneasy thrill returned for some folks late last year with the release of Selected Letters of John Updike.

“’Even with this book, various people are looking through it to see if they’re mentioned,’ said Updike’s son, Michael, a sculptor. “’And then when they realize they are mentioned, they’re insulted,’ he added with a laugh.”

Michael Updike, heavily quoted in the article, defended his father against one of the most common charges. “He seems to be an author who is judged as a misogynist because some of his characters are selfish. . . . We don’t say Nabokov is a pedophile because his character Humbert Humbert is one in Lolita.”

Michael Updike told The Local News that he’s working on the release of his father’s unpublished novel, Home. “We’re still figuring out how to get that rolling,” he said.

We asked Michael (pictured) for more details, and here’s what he had to say:

“Chris Carduff [who edited several of Updike’s Library of America volumes] gave us the idea, saying it was a completed novel albeit rejected by a publishing house. Jim Schiff [editor of the Selected Letters] has read it and says it’s not a perfect novel but does have a lot of new material about my grandmother in it. Andrew Wylie has been sent a copy and he thinks it should be published. So much of it is hand written, and our first step is to find a good typist who will type it up in Word. Then an editor to comb out any redundant or rough spots, and Wiley will shop it around. No timeline, but hopefully soon, by publishing terms—two or three years.”

Updike didn’t talk much about Home with interviewers, but he did tell Eric Rhode in 1969, ” I had written, prior to [The Poorhouse Fair], while living in New York City, a 600-page novel, called, I think, Home, and more or less about myself and my family up to the age of 16 or so. It had been a good exercise to write it and I later used some of the material in short stories, but it really felt like a very heavy bundle of yellow paper, and I realized that this was not going to be my first novel—it had too many traits of a first novel. I did not publish it, but I thought it was time for me to write a novel.”

If Home is as heavily autobiographical as Updike suggests, perhaps it will be read and appreciated as a companion to his Self-Consciousness: Memoirs (1989).

Shortlist writer lists the ‘funniest novels ever written’

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Marc Chacksfield has recommended “The books that will actually make you laugh: The funniest novels ever written”—a list published on shortlist.com. And one of Updike’s novels tickled his funnybone: The Witches of Eastwick (1984).

Of Witches, Chacksfield wrote, “The big screen adaptation is naturally hilarious, but Updike’s original source material is a wonderful exercise in satire. Three women in the Rhode Island town of Eastwick acquire witch-like powers after being spurned by their husbands. Swearing to wreak vengeance, they run amok until the mysterious appearance of Darryl Van Horne. What follows is high farce and social satire rolled into one. Mischievous doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Of course, there’s no shortage of humor in Updike, whether you tag along with his Jewish alter ego Henry Bech in three novels, savor the satire of American overconsumption in The Coup, or chuckle over Updike’s minister in A Month of Sundays who is sent to a retreat as a curative for his penchant of sexually fleecing his flock.

Read the whole list

Raritan, now deceased, wasn’t a fan of John Updike

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In Sheena Meng’s “A requiem for Raritan,” published on The Point, one thing rings pointedly clear:  “The editors were not particularly fond of Updike. Richard Poirier and Thomas R. Edwards, both literary critics and professors of literature at Rutgers, leveled coolly disdainful gazes at him in their 1978 proposal for the magazine:

The publication of a new book by John Updike, let us say, is probably not an event of the same magnitude as the publication of a new book by Bellow or Pynchon, by Elizabeth Bishop or Doris Lessing … He seems at the moment to be a writer of comparatively, and predictably, lesser weight, and for whatever reasons he does not call into play the cultural forces and special interests that are at work on behalf (or against) these other writers.

“It was their mutual confusion regarding Updike’s popularity that also solidified matters between Poirier and his successor, Rutgers historian Jackson Lears. One of the questions he had hoped to address when he founded the magazine, Poirier told Lears, was: How does a writer like John Updike get lionized and celebrated as if he’s some genius man of letters? Raritan, in other words, was interested in “cultural power,” as Poirier declared in his prefatory editor’s note: “those intricate movements by which ideas or events, canons or hierarchies of preference, minorities or cultural strata come into existence.” Updike, not considered ‘a sufficiently rewarding clue to something more important than the texts he writes,’ was given no notice in its pages.”

Sounds like Raritan‘s editors may have socialized with famous Updike detractors John Aldridge or David Foster Wallace, since all of the writers they cite as being superior have occasioned relatively the same level of interest from readers, and graduate students working on their theses or dissertations, as Updike.

Read the whole article

Selected Letters editor offers insights on Updike and Pennsylvania

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James Schiff, vice president of The John Updike Society and editor of The John Updike Review, gave a great interview to Charles McElwee on The Real Clear Pennsylvania Podcast.  Schiff, a professor of English at the University of Cincinnati, talked about the Selected Letters of John Updike, which Schiff also edited and the debut of which the Updike Society celebrated in New York City in October 2025.

Here’s the link

Book reviewer references Updike and Roth

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Andrew Gelman, in reviewing The Ten Year Affair by Erin Somers for The Future of Statistical Modeling (Substack), relies on John Updike and Philip Roth for a core comparison:

“Going back a bit in literary time, The Ten Year Affair is a lot like the novels of John Updike: various suburban married couples having affairs. The writing style is different–Updike is famously lyrical, whereas Somers uses a Millennial flat writing style: This happens, then This happens, then That happens, etc. Kind of like Ernest Hemingway or Raymond Carver if they had a sense of humor.

“I think Somers does a much better job than Updike in conveying what it feels like to be a parent. To me, Updike, like Philip Roth, was to the end of his life always a son, never a father. Updike did have four kids, but I guess his wife did most of the parenting. Updike’s characters often have children but always seem to be thinking only about themselves. Not so much that his adult characters are self-centered–I mean, yeah, they are, but that’s kind of the point–but more that their children don’t seem to exist at all, except to the extent that they sometimes have to be dealt with as obstacles when they get in the way of the parents. In contrast, the adults in The Ten Year Affair are very aware of their kids. In some ways this is similar to Little Children by Tom Perotta, a book whose entire theme is that these adults are thinking only of themselves and are not shouldering the responsibilities of parenthood.”

Read the whole article

In Memoriam: Joe McDade

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We are saddened to report that Joe McDade, a longtime member of The John Updike Society, has died. His obituary reads, simply, “Joseph Skelton McDade was born on May 29, 1965, in Needham, Massachusetts. He passed away on January 16, 2026, at the age of 60. Joseph was a resident of Katy, Texas.” The site has a place to add memories and offer condolences. Friends have left messages on his Facebook page as well.

For 30+ years, Joe was Professor of English at Houston Community College, where, according to Rate My Professor, his students found him to be “hilarious” and a “tough grader” who “gives good feedback.” Updike society members who interacted with Joe also found him to be quick-witted and wryly jocular. Joe attended a number of John Updike Society biennial conferences, including the very first one in 2010 at Alvernia University in Reading, Pa., where he presented a paper on “Updike’s Great Ambivalence: Rabbit and Emersonian Romanticism.”

Those who attended the fourth conference at the University of South Carolina, when Joe applied Emersonianism to Updike’s A Month of Sundays, most likely remember him as the exuberant organizer of the first (and thus far only) Rabbit Open best ball golf tournament at Cobblestone Park in Columbia. Always one to go all out, Joe had t-shirts made especially for the occasion, as well as printed golf balls for every entrant and a trophy for the winning foursome to hoist. And being such a golf nut as he was—a passion Updike also shared—Joe finished on the winning team. Society members last saw Joe at the 7th Biennial JUS Conference in Tucson. His passing leaves a hole in one—a joke, we think, he would have appreciated.

The Guardian ranks Updike’s top not-always-dirty dozen

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We love lists, and so does The Guardian (UK), which named John Updike’s debut novel, The Poorhouse Fair, as his twelfth best, despite calling it “a curio.” Number 1 on their list—no surprise—is Rabbit Angstrom, the Everyman’s Library compilation of the author’s four “Rabbit” books, which they ranked (best to least) Rabbit at Rest (1990), Rabbit Is Rich (1981)—both Pulitzer Prize winners—followed by Rabbit, Run (1960) and Rabbit Redux (1972).

Roger’s Version (1986) placed No. 2 on their list, with Couples (1968), notorious as Updike’s raciest book, not far behind at No. 3. Then comes the Everyman’s Library compilation of Updike’s Henry Bech sagas, and Updike’s slender Of the Farm (1965) at No. 5, followed by The Witches of Eastwick (1984) at No. 6 and The Centaur (1963) at No. 7.

The biggest surprise is that Memories of the Ford Administration (1992)—generally dismissed by most readers, critics, and scholars—came in at No. 8, ahead of the much-acclaimed Gertrude and Claudius (2000) at No. 9, S. (1988)—Updike’s final volume in his Scarlet Letter trilogy—at No. 10, and the under-appreciated Seek My Face (2002) at No. 11.

Read what The Guardian had to say about each pick.