Deaths of Distant Friends – John Updike

John Updike – March 18, 1932 – January 27, 2009

This is my third encounter with Updike in this project, and the more I run into him, the more I like him. I think I confessed in my last post about him that I had not read any Updike (at least I had not sought him out to read) before I read him in these collections. I can be sure that I ran into him in a New Yorker, here and there... but his name and the particular story didn’t stick with me. I’ve become much more focused on the authors now with this project and this focus and research has carried over to the stories I am reading outside of these anthologies.

Updike is a big ‘ol target.

There are so many angles you can hit him from. If you love him, there is an abundance of evidence to point to that can steer your argument towards the opinion held by most – that he is one of the finest American authors of the past 100 years.

If you want to find fault in his work, there too, is plenty of criticism out there that you can fall upon which can support your ideas of Updike being less than stellar.

Personally, I think Updike is wonderful.

Judged solely by the three stories that I have read by him so far. I have enjoyed his subjects, his word choice, the meter and pace of the stories – everything. It works for me. – Personally. And I’d like to emphasize the last word there – Personally.

Every writer cannot and will not be great to everyone. I have no trouble and am more than willing to read criticism of authors – and in Gardner’s case for example, I sought out critical essays of him just to give me a well rounded idea of an author that I consider a genius.

More recently, I have come across a passage where Wallace mentions in an interview conducted with, and published by Lipsky, that he had a problem with Updike...but not as much as Franzen(???) – I’m looking for this exact quote and will update this post when I discover it.

EDIT – June 4, 2010

Page 92-93 of “Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself”.

"Because Updike, I think has never had an unpublished thought.

And that he’s got the ability to put it in very lapidary prose. But that Updike presents one with a compressed Internet problem, is there’s 80 percent absolute dreck, and 20 percent priceless stuff. And you have to wade through so much purple gorgeous empty writing to get anything that’s got any kind of heartbeat in it. Plus, I think he’s mentally ill.

You really do don’t you?

Yeah. I think he’s a nasty person. And I’ll tell you, if you think I hate him? Talk to – bring up his name to [to J. Franzen]. "

Wonderful! DFW taking out Updike! Gimmie it! I need to know!

Now, I haven’t run across articles where Updike is placed in a position where he has to defend his writing and the repetitive themes of his stories but I am almost sure that they are out there.

From what I have read, Updike is labeled as a writer who writes too much about men, their infidelity, divorces, divorced couples, sex, and.. well.. being narcissistic (this last accusation worded so well from DFW in a book review he did for the Observer).

And another thing – when people criticize Updike’s writing, I’ve found that critics like to throw a bit of criticism in about his physical appearance – especially his smile.

Sly, wry, smart-ass.

C’mon – give the guy a break! That’s low hanging fruit – supporting your argument by drawing the readers attention to his smile!

I’ll remind you and myself of a quote by Joyce Carol Oates - a great friend of Updike.

"When people say there is too much violence in Oates," she says, "what they are saying is there is too much reality in life."

From an Interview in 1980 published in the New York Times.

I think that Updike writes about a certain reality. A reality that makes some of us uncomfortable.

“Too much reality in life”

Now if I am going to defend Updike and use their trick and draw your attention to his smile – I think his smile is one that is telling you that the joke is on you, the reader.

He is giving you reality – the infidelity, the sex, the divorces, the narcissism –

Look at our society today – It’s not narcissistic at all!

What was your last status update on Facebook?

Perhaps on some level, I can relate to the subject matter that Updike deals with in these stories – the thoughts, the introspection, the second guessing of existence.

I just really enjoy the way he writes.

When I look at my spreadsheet of authors (available through the links on the right), I can see that I’ll run into Updike quite a few more times, and I and excited that he will be the guest editor for the BASS 1984.

I have a general feeling about that collection of stories (1984) that I had when I was approaching the Gardner selections.

So, as I mentioned a couple of times. This is my third encounter and I will be looking deeper into Updike. Who knows, I may develop an intense hatred for the writer, but for now – he’s good to go in my mind.

This story -

Here is a beautiful passage from “Deaths of Distant Friends”

“Witnesses to my disgrace are being removed. The world is growing lighter. Eventually there will be none to remember me as I was in those embarrassing, disarrayed years while I scuttled without a shell, between houses and wives, a snake between skins, and monster of selfishness, my grotesque needs naked and pink, my social presence beggarly and vulnerable, The deaths of others carry us off a bit by bit, until there will be nothing left; and this too will be, in a way, a mercy.”

Both of her friends are dead.

John Updike and Raymond Smith

Starlight - Marian Thurm

Marian Thurm - born 1952

This particular story pulled up an interesting series of thoughts.

Early 80s divorce theme appears once again.

I’m sure I’ve had the thoughts before, but at this age and in the current space of life that I’m in now, the thoughts mean a bit more and are a bit more focused.

I thoughts have to do with the feelings that my mother must have had to deal with each time we returned from my fathers house.

I remember she would ask us questions about our visit with him but at the same time, I seem to remember that she wasn’t too invasive – which is funny, because now, she can’t be more invasive when we return from his house. I suppose her curiosity now has to do with his medical problems – thoughts of what her life would have been if they remained together.

As one of two children that was exchanged on holidays and summer vacations, I was in a position where I really didn’t care too much about how each of my parents felt when we left one and visited the other. I was happy to see the new parent and sad to leave the old – and when it was time to reverse the parents, the feelings were reversed as well.

Today though as I write this, I have the thoughts that my mother hurt much more during these exchanges than my father. I feel that my father had no feelings at all about exchanging us with our mom. He could just go back to work and not worry about the extra laundry or picking us up from day camp.

So, the thoughts fall to my mother – the feelings she must have been dealing with all of those years as we were passed between the two of them. The pain of the divorce and the exchanges every several months - it almost seems like salt was thrown on the wound each time.

I just can’t imagine.

Colorado – Robert Taylor Jr.

Robert Taylor Jr. - ??

The fortunate children who are in a position to observe their parents beginning at the time when their memories are first “memories”, until the time that they understand that their parents aren’t without sin may wish that someday they too will have a life like those who are raising them.

And then we discover that our parents aren’t just the kindest beings who feed us and read us bedtime stories and soothe us during thunderstorms.

We form visions of who our spouse will be – what she will look like, how we will interact – what we will “do to each other’.

We have girlfriends and experiment with them, pushing boundaries, learning how far we can go – what works, what doesn’t.

Our innocence is lost – and we never knew we had it.

Best Quality Glass Company, New York - Sharon Sheehe Stark

Sharon Sheehe Stark - ??

I’ve looked into my cellar and I have seen an intruder. Yes, just as in this story, the porthole into the cellar is just a sliver of mirror reflecting back an image of myself that I find distorted and almost unrecognizable – a vision of another person...covered in coal dust – cowering in a corner, shamed, bound by sin.

But I’m trying hard, and I wrestle with this intruder everyday until one day, hopefully I will defeat him completely.

The ability to recognize this intruder is a step, and knowing him and gaining knowledge of him will allow me to develop a plan towards his eventual defeat.

“In the most important questions of your life, you are always alone. No one other than you can understand your true history, your life story, as it develops. The essence of true life is your attitude, during the different stages of your life, toward your spiritual self, and your ability to follow that voice living inside you.”

June 2. Wise Thoughts for Every Day - Leo Tolstoy

Reunion- Julie Schumacher

Julie Schumacher – December 2, 1958

This short story was Schumacher’s first published story, and it was so strong, it was chosen by two editors for this anthology – and as trippy things go, it is the first of two stories in this collection with this title.

It really is a fine piece of work. It has a depth within the sentences that give the story so much more than what you first encounter.

The final paragraph is especially stirring if your relationship to your mother is similar to the narrator’s.

My mother is going through a particularly interesting part of her life now. She retired from teaching 2^nd grade last year after 30 years of faithful service. She now spends about 20 hours a day taking care of my step-father who is very old and suffering from his age.

Now, those 20 hours aren’t spent at his side...but when you have an elderly man who calls out to you for no reason but to know that you are there...you are pretty much by his side most of the time. She works to keep the house orderly and the gardens watered. It’s difficult because as she will admit, her mind is distracted by a million things a minute.

She has help from care providers and we do what we can, when we can.

We took her out this past Saturday for a little shopping trip and lunch. Actually, she took us out – I drove. She bought Mirela a ton of clothes as well as a Glider and ottoman for the baby’s room.

She found the time in her life and money to do this for us...even in her place in this world now.

She’s a good, no great mom.

Victrola - Wright Morris

Wright Morris - January 6, 1910 - April 25, 1998

I don’t care much for dogs. I grew up with a series of dogs but was never really attached to any of them. They were just – there.

A dog on a leash. A burden or a pleasure?

I’ve recently come to the realization that the relationship I have with my father is similar to that of this story’s main character’s relationship with his dog.

Perhaps this was not Morris’ intent – to use a man’s relation to his dog to allow the reader to reflect on a relationship with a human – but, this is how it came across to me.

You see, I am the human, and my father is the dog.

My father is not a burden like a dog but my relationship to him and my personal view of him is just like Morris creates between “The man” and “The dog”(dog’s name is Victrola).

I feel that I won’t fully appreciate the relationship, if it can even be called a relationship that we have until he is gone.

I’m still working through things with him and his Alzheimer’s won’t make it any easier.

It’s tough, and going to get tougher.

Graveyard Day – Bobbie Ann Mason

Bobbie Ann Mason - May 1, 1940

Bobbie Ann Mason returns and we find her once again offering a story on relationships.

You know, I’m struggling to get anything out of this story. I have this feeling, and it’s bad, that it is a story written for women. I think I approach all stories fairly and look at them through an honest eye...but this one, I just can’t get anything out of it. Perhaps in a few days.

Sur - Ursula K. Le Guin

Ursula K. Le Guin - October 21, 1929

Exploration.

The feeling that I get when I head out the door every other day for my morning run is that I about to embark on an adventure that will be like none I have every set out on before.

Sure, I run basically the same routes, but there are so many variables that come into play during these mornings, that every run is different.

The good chemicals usually hit me around mile five, and that’s when my thoughts sharpen and I discover answers or uncover new questions.

The past 2 or three years, mental exploration has really captivated me. Exploration of my mind – my consciousness.

These stories have assisted me in unlocking memories, thoughts and feelings that I had previously thought lost to time.

The stories have allowed me to discover and reflect upon opinions of others as well as strengthening or changing my own opinions on any number of subjects.

I don’t need to travel to distant locations (although it is nice) to discover what is inside of all the little craters of my mind.

When I am older, I too will unlock a trunk and be able to pull out letters describing my adventures – adventures that no one knows I am on...adventures taking place at this very moment.

“Sur” was one of those stories that initially did not care for. It took some additional thought and consideration before it grew on me. It reminded me also that I need to slow down when considering what these stories have to offer and to be sure to look around each corner for their lessons.

The Professor’s Houses – Ursula K. Le Guin

Ursula K. Le Guin - October 21, 1929

Do we live in the houses we physically occupy or do we construct living spaces that are far from the reality that we exist in?

I do my best to be as grounded in reality as I can. M and I share this and I think we do a good job of balancing each other out and keeping each other in a “reality” that resembles “reality”.

My personal opinion is that there are too many people – whether through their own doing or through damage that has been done to them by another, who live in houses that are constructed in fantasy.

Furthermore, it’s sad to see the result of these people when their fantasy houses are destroyed.

Their house could be a marriage, a relationship, a job, a financial situation, a child, an ethic even a personality that they have crafted.

But, once again, this is what makes us human...this strange behavior.

Scales - Louise Erdrich

Louise Erdrich - June 7, 1954

I have spent the last nine years of my life sitting in a somewhat comfortable chair in a climate controlled office surrounded by hundreds of books and piles of newspapers, facing a computer screen, tapping in letters and numbers into software and applications, drinking coffee and tea, eating hot food as the world outside of my office continues to spin and others live lives much more uncomfortable than mine.

When I was younger, I thought about what my life was going to be like when I was...well...this age.

I figured that I wanted to be in an office doing office work rather than outside digging ditches. I wanted to be my own boss and have the time to do what I wanted to do.

Well, I have that. I’m not my own boss, but I have an extraordinary amount of freedom in my work.

I have settled down and am quite comfortable in my work.

These short stories allow me to experience life outside of my comfortable office window. “Scales” took me to a part of America that most of us rarely think about. It caused me to reflect on my own life and work and realize how fortunate I am to have been given so much in my life. The color of my skin, the country I call home, the opportunities I have been afforded, the knowledge I have gained...all of these and more add up to where I am today and where I will be tomorrow.

“Scales” caused me to look at those people, workers, who sit at scales day after day...or stand and sit in mind numbing jobs and wonder where in their lives they took a path that placed them where they are.

There is a neighbor of ours who works at a little restaurant down the street form our home.

He is my age and spends from 10:00 until 9:00 in the evening at the restaurant working. After that, he buys a 12 pack of beer and from what I can tell...consumes the entire half case. Empties fill the trashcans between our places.

He wakes up the next day and does it all over again. Is he happy? Is this what he thought he would be doing while I was thinking the same thing 25 years ago?

The Count and the Princess – Joseph Epstein

Joseph Epstein - January 9, 1937

“Let chaos come”

I love the above little sentence that appeared as if by magic, as I quickly reviewed this short before writing this piece. It is a phrase that I need to embrace.

Those who deal with me on a daily basis, and my family, would all agree, that I have the extreme need to control chaos.

I suppose I should say “need to control the events and happenings in my life”.

I’ve been working real hard lately to allow things to naturally fall into place and slowly let them ferment and develop a little before I respond to them.

You see, in a few short months, a little being is going to enter into this world (the Princess), and he or she will be throwing all sorts of chaos curveballs in my direction (The Count) for THE REST OF MY LIFE!!!!

My life, M’s life, as we know it today, is going to be over in a few short months. We made this decision and are more than happy with it.

We had a wonderful 10 years together – just the two of us, but now...there will of course be the two of us plus another.

Just as The Count snaps his cane across his knee and dashes out the door laughing – I too am in the process of snapping my canes and will soon be laughing – manically!!! (joke).

I am comfortable with this new phase in life – this soon to be state of chaos.

My past is my past, and will soon be consumed by my present.

I will become someone new – shaped by the chaos.

“Let the chaos come”

I’ll be placing this short on my short list of favorites. I love it.