{"id":4904,"date":"2019-10-14T17:49:12","date_gmt":"2019-10-14T22:49:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/?p=4904"},"modified":"2019-10-14T17:50:03","modified_gmt":"2019-10-14T22:50:03","slug":"is-john-updike-a-malfunctioning-sex-robot","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/2019\/10\/14\/is-john-updike-a-malfunctioning-sex-robot\/","title":{"rendered":"Is John Updike a &#8216;Malfunctioning Sex Robot&#8217;?"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>That&#8217;s the charge <strong>Patricia Lockwood<\/strong> levels after she&#8217;s charged with reading and reviewing <em>Novels, 1959-65: The Poorhouse Fair; Rabbit, Run; The Centaur; Of the Farm, by John Updike<\/em> for the <strong><em>London Review of Books<\/em><\/strong>. And she skewers Updike with the kind of zest the likes of which haven&#8217;t been seen since David Foster Wallace (quoted here) used to pillory Updike (&#8220;a penis with a thesaurus&#8221;) and other &#8220;Great White Male Narcissists.&#8221; It&#8217;s almost as if she&#8217;s hoping one of her own derogatory turns-of-phrase will be likewise immortalized.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/files\/2019\/10\/cov4119.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright size-full wp-image-4905\" src=\"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/files\/2019\/10\/cov4119.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"133\" height=\"180\" \/><\/a>See <a href=\"https:\/\/www.lrb.co.uk\/v41\/n19\/patricia-lockwood\/malfunctioning-sex-robot\">&#8220;Malfunctioning Sex Robot&#8221;<\/a> for an entertaining, fascinating, mostly negative but partly positive take on Updike from someone who approaches the two-time Pulitzer Prize winner as a dog walker stoops with a plastic bag to complete her civic obligation.<\/p>\n<p>She confesses her bias openly, in the first paragraph:\u00a0 &#8220;I was hired as an assassin. You don&#8217;t bring in a 37-year-old woman to review John Updike in the year of our Lord 2019 unless you&#8217;re hoping to see blood on the ceiling.&#8221; She writes, &#8220;In a 1997 review for the <em>New York Observer,<\/em> the recently kinged David Foster Wallace diagnosed how far Updike had fallen in the esteem of a younger generation. &#8216;Penis with a thesaurus&#8217; is the phrase that lives on. . . . Today, he has fallen even further, still, in the pantheon but marked by an embarrassed asterisk: DIED OF PUSSY-HOUNDING. No one can seem to agree on his surviving merits. He wrote like an angel, the consensus goes, except when he was writing like a malfunctioning sex robot attempting to administer cunnilingus to his typewriter. Offensive criticism of him is often reductive, while defensive criticism has a strong flavour of people-are-being-mean-to-my-dad. There&#8217;s so much of him, spread over so much time, that perhaps everyone has read a different John Updike. . . . The more I read of him the more there was, like a fable.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;When he is in flight you are glad to be alive. When he comes down wrong\u2014which is often\u2014you feel the sickening turn of an ankle, a real nausea. All the flaws that will become fatal later are present in the beginning. He has a three-panel cartoonist&#8217;s sense of plot. The dialogue is a weakness: in terms of pitch, it&#8217;s half a step sharp, too nervily and jumpily tuned to the tics and italics and slang of the era. And yes, there are his women. Janice is a grotesquerie with a watery drink in one hand and a face full of television static; her emotional needs are presented as a gaping, hungry and above all unseemly hole, surrounded by well-described hair. He paints and paints them but the proportions are wrong. He is like a God who spends four hours on the shading on Eve&#8217;s upper lip, forgets to give her a clitoris, and then decides to rest on Tuesday. In the scene where Janice drunkenly drowns the baby, it wasn&#8217;t the character I felt pity for but Updike, fumbling so clumsily to get inside her that in the end it&#8217;s <em>his<\/em> hands that get slippery, drop the baby.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Patricia Lockwood is a poet whose memoir, <em>Priestdaddy<\/em>, was named one of the 10 Best Books of 2017 by <em>The New York Times<\/em>. Her full review\u2014in the <em>London Review of Books<\/em> Vol. 41 No. 19, 10 October 2019, the Anniversary Issue: Part One\u2014isn&#8217;t just a hatchet job. It&#8217;s a thorough and thoughtful reconsideration of Updike <em>then<\/em> through the eyes of a woman <em>now<\/em>, and that&#8217;s fascinating.\u00a0 The #metoo movement has claimed a number of casualties, most of them deserved. But it has to leave today&#8217;s male writers wondering if any of them can ever be as completely honest as Updike was about\u00a0 sex and relations with women, or if that ship has sailed . . . and long ago sunk.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>That&#8217;s the charge Patricia Lockwood levels after she&#8217;s charged with reading and reviewing Novels, 1959-65: The Poorhouse Fair; Rabbit, Run; The Centaur; Of the Farm, by John Updike for the London Review of Books. And she skewers Updike with the &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/2019\/10\/14\/is-john-updike-a-malfunctioning-sex-robot\/\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":818,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11,53],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4904","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reviews","category-updike-in-context"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4904","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/818"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4904"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4904\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4907,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4904\/revisions\/4907"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4904"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4904"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.iwu.edu\/johnupdikesociety\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4904"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}