I’m truly rather astonished that I picked this up. According to my prejudices, it was the jejune, perhaps self-caricatural big bestseller. The book's fame led every obituary writer to narrowly cast Updike as a chronicler of upper-middle class New England marriages. (Rabbit, as it turns out, is a Pennsylvanian petit-bourgeois.) I had heard numerous bad reports. From personal friends, and from distantly eminent judges (Martin Amis called it a “false summit” of the Updike oeuvre). But I was at a library sale, and it was only $2. The jacket photo was so quintessentially Updike, with his quizzical smirk, seersucker shirt tucked into chinos, tanned forearms, and behind him a wall of weathered Nantuckety beach house shingle.

And a few weeks prior at that sale, I had bought a copy of The Stories of John Cheever, and had read so many that I craved more midcentury New England angst, more commuter trains, cocktail shakers, and girdles. The sale also had stacks of old early 1960s issues of LIFE that nobody bought but which contained the ads of that world, ads for cheap vernacular bourbon, Hi-Fi, and convertibles that you drive a blond to the beach in. So I had to buy Couples. How bad could it be? Updike long ago entered my personal pantheon of writers (James, Nabokov, Edmund White) whose least distinguished books are still readable, such is my relish for their phrasing and perception. I wasn’t expecting much but I thought it would be enjoyable.

Turns out, this is the true test for an Updike-lover. I passed and was rewarded, but much in this book is bad. For one thing, there are too many people. 10 couples, 20 rather dull and/or repellent characters entangled with each other in past, ongoing, and just-beginning adulterous affairs. Piet Hanema, like Updike a Dutch-descended sensualist Christian, churchgoing but priapic, serves as a sturdy enough platform for Updike’s observatory lyricism (well, except for the painfully derivative Joycean stream-of-consciousness). And Piet’s wife and daughters are finely drawn. But the rest of these people are just unappealing. So much dialogue! The vast middle of the novel is dedicated to seemingly endless transcripts of middlebrow cocktail party ruminations, feeble flirty jokes, soporific gossip, and booze-addled attempts to apply half-remembered Freudian and anthropological terms to their ennui. Updike seemed to be asleep at the wheel for much of this. He does the tense socializing of outwardly friendly but lustful and rivalrous couples so much better in Rabbit Is Rich, in the country club scenes, where the number of couples is more manageably fewer and they are all interesting, or at least relevant to Rabbit’s story.

Updike also indulges in some wannabe-comic but completely unfunny racial characterization. John Ong, a Korean, is given only one trait: unintelligible English. And Ben Saltz, a Jew, is ponderous and pushy; he also reads Commentary. There is also excruciatingly metaphorical sex. Less than you’d expect in a 400+ page novel about suburban swingers, but still quite a bit. Piet and the very pregnant Foxy Whitman have astronomical sex:

\\n  Their lovemaking lunar, revolving frictionless around the planet of her womb. The crescent bits of ass his tongue could touch below her cunt’s petals. Her far-off cries, eclipsed.\\n

As I approached the end of the novel’s fourth mega-chapter, I began to think that writing this ridiculous could have been avoided if Piet, as much as I favored him above the others, hadn’t been the surrogate intelligence of the book. His wide-eyed wonder at the world was ill-suited to a catalogue of bored bed-hopping. To make such action interesting, Updike needed to command a Gallic, cynical tone. This should have been a novel of malicious manners, modeled on the novel of pitilessly dissected motives that, as W.M. Spackman said, is one of the glories of French literature - Les Liaisons dangereuses, Madame Bovary.

But as I said, these were my thoughts before starting the last section, which turned out to be uninterruptedly awesome, an 80-page clean sprint of wisdom, insight, and skill. Updike even redeems his condescending characterization of John Ong with the moving scene in Ong’s hospice room. The chatty extraneous couples recede and it becomes all about Piet’s disintegrating marriage, his apartmented singleness, his reunion with Foxy. The tone is far-seeing, laconic, epilogic. Updike drops on you the crushing sadness of just starting to move on - and not just from a failed relationship, but from friendship, from mere acquaintance. (“what have they forgotten, what have they lost?” asks the narrator’s first wife in Cheever’s “The Seaside Houses,” like Couples a story about sundering and new selves and lost time set against a backdrop of New England beaches). Suddenly, Updike’s melancholic attention, throughout the book, to the mutations and minute light effects of seasonal change came to have a thematic resonance. I remembered that the action takes place over just a year, a blip in the lives of people. Opening to my marker last night, I braced myself for a weary slog to the end; I closed the novel with a big smile and my brain buzzing. That’s what I read Updike for.

Pathetic.

This single word can carry a world of meaning. It describes a state of being that is truly pitiful and deserving of sympathy. When we see someone or something that is pathetic, our hearts often go out to them.

It could be a person who is struggling with a difficult situation, perhaps facing financial hardships, or dealing with a serious illness. Their circumstances may seem so overwhelming that they appear helpless and in need of assistance.

Or it could be an animal that has been abandoned or mistreated, left to fend for itself in a cruel world. The sight of its sad eyes and emaciated body can tug at our heartstrings and make us feel a sense of injustice.

In either case, the word "pathetic" evokes a strong emotional response within us. It makes us realize the vulnerability and fragility of life, and it reminds us of the importance of showing kindness and compassion to those who are less fortunate.

So the next time you encounter something that is pathetic, take a moment to stop and offer a helping hand. You may be surprised at how much of a difference a simple act of kindness can make in someone's life.

Tl;dr would be almost accurate, but the most accurate would be to write that indeed 5% of the way through, I DNF'ed (Did Not Finish) because those ~20 pages were enough to understand at a glance that this book is not for me, that it's not my genre, not my style and I simply don't like it in this way. I won't expand more, I simply don't have anything else to write about this book.

This short description sums up my experience with the book quite well. I started reading it with some expectations, but after just a few pages, I realized that it wasn't going to be to my taste. The genre might not be something I'm particularly interested in, and the writing style didn't resonate with me. It's always a bit disappointing when this happens, but it's also a reminder that not every book is going to be a perfect fit.

Maybe someone else would enjoy this book more than I did. It might have its own unique charm and qualities that I just couldn't see. But for me, it was clear that it wasn't worth continuing. I'll move on to other books and hope to find ones that will capture my attention and imagination more fully.

One often comes across remarks like this about Updike: “It’s really well written, but…”, “The prose soars, but…”, “The writing was great, but…”

Conversely, regarding Vincent van Gogh, one doesn't encounter many such comments as: “It’s really well painted, but…”, “The brush strokes are nice but… isn’t he just painting a flower? or some wheat? or a dirty bar?”

This is an imperfect analogy, yet it's close enough. Updike absorbs reality and expels it with such intensity and kaleidoscopic beauty that I would compare his portrayal of reality to reality itself just as I would compare Vincent's "Starry Starry Night" to any actual night sky filled with stars.

Updike might dwell on a few broader themes, but after reading six novels (and countless short stories), it becomes difficult not to realize that what Updike is truly about is expressing what it means to be alive in a world of others, knowing that we will die alone. Or, as one character puts it to his friends:

“We’re all put here to humanize each other.”

It's a challenging task, and no one does it better than Updike.

However, Updike is no romantic. Absolutely not. If his contemporaries Philip Roth and Norman Mailer are like John Ford with their mythic landscapes and shattered heroic myths, then Updike must be like Yasujirō Ozu with his small domestic dramas and devastating mini-heartbreaks.

When one character realizes:

“How plausible it was to die, how death, far from invading Earth like a meteor, occurs on the same plane as birth and marriage and the arrival of the daily mail”

It sums it all up.

The poem "Musee des Beaux Arts" by W.H. Auden further emphasizes the theme of suffering and how it exists in the ordinary fabric of life. The Old Masters understood this human position well, as seen in Breughel's Icarus, where everything turns away quite leisurely from the disaster.

This connection between Updike's works and Auden's poem highlights the universality of the exploration of the human condition.

About 200 pages too long.

Originally published in 1968, this work was expected to offer a more profound reflection of the times. However, it came across as rather contrived, seemingly aiming to shock, perhaps especially the older generation of that era, rather than providing an accurate portrayal of the time.

Upon further examination, it must be said that it appears to be more representative of the literature of that particular time period rather than a true reflection of the actual life during that time.

It seems to have focused more on creating a certain literary effect rather than capturing the essence and nuances of the lived experiences of the people.

This lack of authenticity may have limited its ability to truly resonate with readers and provide a meaningful understanding of the historical context.

Nonetheless, it still holds some value as a piece of literature from that era, offering insights into the literary trends and styles that were prevalent at the time.

Perhaps with a more critical eye and a deeper understanding of the historical background, readers can better appreciate both the strengths and weaknesses of this work.

Open View on Human Relationships
The entire review here: http://knijenpetar.blogspot.com/2015/...

The first and only book I read by John Updike years ago was called "Brazil" - an erotic portrayal of human relationships, where the most prominent role was played by love and beauty. Here it's not so different, except for these almost 600 pages, the year the book was written, and the convoluted complexity of the structure. "Couples" is a modern novel, written during a time of blatant conservatism in American reality. In the 1960s, many things in family relationships were hidden and seemed to be part of some ghostly America. Today, almost no one is scandalized by the explicit sexual descriptions in books, often even deliberately sought and filled with crude language to elicit passionate comments. "Couples" doesn't hide anything from the crude reality, but presented by a true master, it is limited to the natural.

Updike's language is rich and peppered with beautiful word combinations, but it is never idealistic and insistent in its pursuit of the beautiful and idealized feeling. Love and sex are mutually complementary and integrated, and the main human weakness in the illogical game of emotions. The couples show those of their traits that combine the natural in nature with human fallibility. (Continued in the blog)

The novel "Couples" offers a unique perspective on human relationships. It delves deep into the complex web of emotions, desires, and interactions that exist between people. Updike's writing style is both engaging and thought-provoking, as he presents a vivid picture of the characters and their experiences. The book explores themes such as love, lust, marriage, and fidelity, and challenges the reader to question their own beliefs and values. Through the stories of the various couples in the novel, we see how different people navigate the challenges and joys of relationships. Some are able to find true love and happiness, while others struggle and ultimately fail. Overall, "Couples" is a fascinating and insightful look at the human condition and the power of relationships.

I read this article over 10 years ago and have always had the intention to read it again.

Do I like the "suburban malaise" genre? The answer is a resounding yes.

There is something deeply captivating about the exploration of the seemingly ordinary lives in the suburbs that often hide a wealth of complex emotions and unspoken desires.

This genre has the ability to揭示 the underbelly of suburban existence, with its monotony, dissatisfaction, and the search for meaning.

It allows us to peek into the lives of characters who may seem familiar on the surface but have their own unique struggles and dreams.

The stories within this genre often have a way of making us reflect on our own lives and the choices we make.

They can be both thought-provoking and emotionally engaging, drawing us in and making us want to know more.

Whether it's through the lens of a coming-of-age story or a more mature exploration of middle-aged discontent, the "suburban malaise" genre has a certain allure that keeps me coming back for more.

It is truly impossible to keep track of everyone's names. In my opinion, it simply isn't worth the effort. There are just so many people in our lives, whether it's in a large social gathering, at work, or in a community. Trying to remember each and every name can be a daunting task.

Moreover, even if we manage to remember some names, it doesn't necessarily mean we have a meaningful connection with those individuals. The focus should perhaps be more on the interactions and the relationships we build, rather than just on remembering names.

We should not stress ourselves over something that may not have a significant impact on our overall well-being. Instead, we can focus on being present in the moment, listening to others, and showing genuine interest in their conversations. This way, we can create more fulfilling experiences without the added pressure of remembering everyone's names.

"Parachute" by John Updike reveals the life (and opens the bedroom door) of ten wealthy American couples. And oh, what a lovely variation it is! What a breath of fresh air it is to finally read about wealthy protagonists whose interests are not limited solely to flipping through Vogue and afternoon golf parties, but who prefer to spend their free time in intellectually stimulating conversations and social games. Updike's creation of characters is excellent, and this is one of the strongest points of the novel. The 10 couples give us 20 protagonists - how diverse they are! Some are irritating, others evoke sympathy or compassion, and still others envy. A constellation of individuality, and each fascinating in their own way.

Updike in "Parachute" addresses political, economic, moral, and ethical issues. And the diversity and variety of characters cleverly allowed the author to avoid the trap of moralizing and imposing only one point of view, and instead, present many different ones.

Published in the 1960s, the novel shocked the then society with its light, explicit, and open approach to premarital sex, with detailed, overlapping descriptions of the reproductive organs using inventive metaphors and flowery epithets. Today, it no longer shocks, but it is still read revelatorily!

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Interesting to say the least. It was a long haul, with its sometimes overly detailed prose. However, I love the visuals that Updike achieves in this story. The comparisons between parts of women's bodies and the various things he could think of to describe them were erotic and showed a man who loves women and acknowledges that women can and do love sex as mutually as men. It shows us that perhaps not being prudish but rather unsatisfied is more often the cause of a disinterested wife. I must admit that I started looking at my neighbors in a whole new light and can't help but wonder if someone is sleeping with someone else's spouse. I just hope it's not mine! I'm looking forward to another book by Updike as this was my first.

Updike's writing style in this story is both captivating and thought-provoking. The detailed descriptions add depth and realism to the narrative, making it easier for the reader to envision the scenes and characters. The exploration of human sexuality and relationships is done in a way that is both honest and engaging. It makes one question their own assumptions and perceptions about these topics.

Overall, I found this book to be a great read. It has left me with a lot to think about and has piqued my interest in reading more of Updike's work. I would highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys literature that delves into the complex and often mysterious world of human nature and relationships.

What are we going to do now that all of the children have grown up? And where are we going to go, knowing that nobody gives us a damn? These are the questions that linger in our minds, just like in the song "Games People Play" by Alan Parsons.

God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson. Heaven holds a place for those who pray, as Simon & Garfunkel sang in "The Graduate".

Three stars? Yep. I've been married to the same girl for nearly forty-five years and have never strayed. I did it all for love, as the song goes. My love grows deeper and deeper, like a great river approaching the sea, and goes from better to best.

What would a happy guy like me have to do with Updike's gaudy tinsel talk? Not a heck of a lot, because some of us oldies have outlived our raw human animals and found tranquility. Our bodies learn gravity, but our souls discover the way back up - grace. Oh, and peace beyond anyone's understanding!

But, hey, Updike's amusing, alright! If I see an old New Yorker in a dingy waiting room, I always grab it to check out the 'toons and poetry and look to see if there's an Updike gem. His writing is superb. When young architect Piet in this yarn goes through a religious prise de conscience, I could sure relate. Piet's conflict is downright Barthian in complexity, like mine was. Because the ghost of his Dad is always there, after a wild night out, waiting to roundly convict him in his sin.

But I just can't relate to the general lovelessness of his existence. I find that inhumanly scary. So if you take up this book, perhaps you share that loveless burden. Alone, alone, all, all alone - alone on a sunless sea! But I don't, and don't wish it on my worst enemy. However, if you're like that, you might rather like this Updike classic for its existential truths. It's not torrid, trite 'n trashy. In fact, it's pretty profound - in its perplexedly aporetic problematics. For Piet's oceanic guilt and insecurity is SO Human!

Boring, confusing and slow. It's really a disappointment.

This experience has left me feeling rather let down. The boredom set in almost immediately, as there was nothing engaging or interesting to capture my attention.

The confusion added to the frustration, as I struggled to make sense of what was going on. Everything seemed so muddled and unclear.

And to top it off, the slowness made the whole thing feel like a never-ending slog. It felt like I was getting nowhere fast.

Overall, this has been a thoroughly underwhelming experience. I had hoped for something better, but unfortunately, it didn't live up to my expectations.