Posts Tagged ‘John Updike’

John Updike has died.

Now may a new generation emerge?

Oh the horror of someone who has exhausted their pen on mindless suburban fictive elements.  I wrote a while back on his sheepish review of Toni Morrison. Yeah that’s all I have to say about Mr. Updike.

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Take it from me there is nothing worse than reading bad writing which is focused upon more bad writing. Now I don’t know what your stance is on Toni Morrison, (little know fact: she is Jim’s second cousin) or on Updike and frankly I don’t care either. Now, now sensitive reader don’t close your browser just yet I still have a quasi-rant/tirade to go on.  Where shall we begin?  I guess it started in college when I was assigned to read Beloved twice and Paradise once, never finishing either novel I developed a lively, silent rage against Mrs. Morrison.  With her fragmented, shattered style I reached new heights of perspicacity, clearly here was the most profound example of a living writer who, having only written a handful of novels, is elevated to the status of Matriarch, Saint, no, what I really mean is that she is the Alpha and Omega of Literature and she reigns supreme in the world today, according to some people.  Sorry I digress, what I am trying to say is that I firmly believe Mrs. Morrison will fade very quickly after her death and that her writing isn’t, you know, worth the paper it is printed upon. Mrs. Morrison is the ultimate example of a writer who is famous during their lifetime and then vanishes reaching their terminus. Same with Stephen King, but that is old news.

So I am in Borders today and I flip through The New Yorker to find John Updike’s glowing, bloated review of ‘A Mercy’, the newest novel from the esteemed Toni Morrison.  Is he afraid of saying a bad word about the author? I’m not afraid.  Mrs. Morrison’s diction/syntax is for the birds.  Who does she think she is Tolstoy? Even he didn’t write with such mock arrogance as this woman does.  To put it plainly I can’t stand Morrison’s style, and style is still the thing you know, not to mention her utter lack of being able to put together a coherent, linear narrative. Please attempt to read The Bluest Eye with a straight face. Updike handles his reading of Morrison like a third-grader. She has an epic sense of time blah, blah, blah. Where is the criticism? Oh wait I have already answered that question. It is because of the deification of Mrs. Morrison that she is shielded from any criticism. I try not to pay any mind to the phenom but sometimes one just can’t control what one is writing. So please don’t take offense at this little blurb, I’m sure you have something better to do than leave me a nasty message.

Here is the link to the article, read for yourself the half-assed way in which Updike handles ‘The Critics’ section of The New Yorker.


In the years to come we shall see how Time handles the effluence of Toni Morrison.

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