Rabbit, Run

Well, Rabbit was on my mind when I started this blog a few weeks ago, and so I feel I must return to discuss him as promised. However, I must say my enthusiasm has...waned.

I think the most interesting thing for me was the portrait of 1950s America Updike paints. I think in many ways that the American novel, at least of the 20th century, is the novel of disappointment. This is expected in the works of the Lost Generation novelists like Fitzgerald, but few would have expected such cynicism from a baby boomer. However, Updike's suburban world is as bleak as Dreiser's or Crane's.

Obviously this is not news to those who lived through the publication of Rabbit, Run in 1960. However, as I mentioned previously, before reading the novel I knew virtually nothing about it other than that it was set in the 1950s and dealt with a difficult marriage, so I was a bit surprised. Most recently I suppose I was reminded of Updike through his passing and decided to check him out. He certainly is a beautiful writer. His prose style is delicious...a nice mix of fluidity and terseness marks his sentences. I am glad I got a taste of his talent.

I will admit, however, that I don't know if I am hooked enough to find out what Rabbit does after he leaves the side of poor Ruth at the end of the novel. I can't imagine happiness is in store for him no matter what. Whether he goes back to his nightmare of a wife, stays by the side of the prostitute-turned-jilted girlfriend Ruth, or just runs away, I know all will be quite miserable. And, honestly, what with the horrible weather, the typical January blues, and the sickness that has pervaded my household for 2 weeks now, I have had about all the misery I can take right now.

My next literary adventure will take the form of Kathryn Stockett's The Help. Let's hope it is not quite so dreary.