I read Rabbit, Run sometime when I was in college. I didn’t like it, and it’s the only novel that of Updike’s that I’ve read. I really enjoyed his essays and reviews for many years, until, toward the end of his life, the prose began to seem too self-conscious. I’m not sure what the point of this piece is exactly, because the brevity of life has prevented me from getting to the end. Others more familiar than I with Updike’s work will probably feel otherwise.
Thursday, October 03, 2019
… Patricia Lockwood reviews ‘Novels, 1959-65’ by John Updike — LRB 10 October 2019. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)