It's an odd and interesting story. However, I find Updike's almost "stream of consciousness" style to be a bit too dense for my taste. The way he writes seems to flow like a continuous stream of thoughts, which can be a bit overwhelming at times. But despite this, I am still likely to seek out the remaining Rabbit novels. I am curious to see how Harry's story unfolds and develops. I want to know what challenges and experiences he will encounter along the way. Will he find true happiness and fulfillment? Or will he continue to struggle and face difficulties? These questions keep me intrigued and make me eager to read more about Harry's journey.

I'm really enjoying it so far. The prose might be a bit mind-boggling at times, but the imagery and the way a world is created, this is where John Updike truly shines, as I'm learning.

It's quite a good read. It was a long journey, but you get to experience three decades and have a sense of each one, even though I wasn't alive during any of them. Parallel to these decades (the first three decades of the Cold War - one could argue that the relationship between Rabbit and other characters in this book is related to the relationship between America and the other superpowers), Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom evolves from an upstart philanderer with a God-complex to a cuckolded, fat, and preposterous - yet much wiser - old man. The novels depict an America of privilege, ignorance, and pride, but not an unlikable one. The Descendents have a song called "'Merican" that sums up the portrayal of the U.S. in a quick juxtaposition of symbols of national pride and infamy, from Ben Franklin to Vietnam: "I'm proud and ashamed / Every Fourth of July / You've got to know the truth / Before you say that you've got pride."

The three novels were written separately, so there are tropes and motifs that贯穿 each book. The overriding motifs of the trilogy are sex, drugs, and cars. What does it mean to be a father? Do the sins of the father really affect the children? Questions like these haunt the novels and are only partially answered - although each book has a central point: more will be revealed, and America seems almost impossible to escape.

A collection of the first three of Updike's Rabbit novels offers an incredible depiction of American life in the latter half of the 20th century.

Harry 'Rabbit' Angstrom, a very normal middle class man, lives in the small Pennsylvania suburb of Mt Judge, set at the foot of Mt Judge mountain close to the large coal industry town of Brewer. He is not particularly likeable, heroic or awful. He exhibits a mix of good and bad actions, such as cowardice in the face of adversity, bigotry and closed mindedness. Through these books, we witness his growth from early adulthood, fresh from stardom as a local basketball hero, to a middle-aged car salesman.

We see social mores, material culture, politics, music and gender roles change through the very personal lens of the extremely local. Updike's use of extended metaphor, his attention to period detail and the quality of his writing make this a really rewarding long read.

In the first book, Rabbit Run, set in the late 1950s, Rabbit has a young family. When he comes home to find his pregnant wife Janice drinking and watching television, he simply runs. He gets as far as Virginia before turning for home but doesn't go back to his house. Instead, he stays with the local minister Eccles and then takes up with Ruth, a semi-prostitute. He leaves her when he gets the news that Janice is giving birth to their daughter Becky, but he runs again and tragedy ensues.

As the second book, Rabbit Redux, opens in 1969, Rabbit is working with his father at the printing works. Janice leaves him for car salesman Charlie Stavros, leaving him to care for their son Nelson. Rabbit takes in Jill, a young small town girl searching for herself, and politically motivated Skeeter. Between them, they introduce Rabbit to counterculture, drugs and civil rights. Tragedy strikes again, leaving a schism between Rabbit and Nelson, and at the end of the book, Janice returns.

Rabbit is Rich opens in 1979. Rabbit is now the head salesman at Janice's father's Toyota dealership, working with Charlie Stavros but still living in Janice's mother's house. Nelson is at college but returns without finishing his course, bringing with him first Melanie and then his pregnant girlfriend Theresa, usually known as Pru. Nelson wants what his father got, an opening at the dealership, and father and son come into innumerable conflicts caused by misunderstandings and personality clashes. Rabbit and Janice are still together and finally move into a house of their own as the book closes.

Rabbit, Run by John Updike is a highly regarded work that has found its place among the best modern novels. It is included on various prestigious lists, such as Time's 100 Best English-language Novels from 1923 to 2005.

My journey with this novel took a rather strange path. Some years ago, I decided to explore the best books and came across several relevant lists. When I first read Rabbit Run in 2012, I wasn't overly excited and gave it a three-star rating.

However, after reading Rabbit is Rich and Rabbit at Rest, which both won the Pulitzer, I found myself drawn back to the first installment. There are aspects of the story that I appreciate, such as the exploration of a "liberated, modern" literature that delves into sexual themes.

Yet, there are also parts that I find abhorrent, like the lack of proper punishment for the guilty party and the misapportionment of blame. Despite these flaws, I have returned to Rabbit, Run because I have grown fond of the main character to a certain extent.

Overall, while I may not share the extreme enthusiasm of some critics, scholars, and writers, I still consider Rabbit, Run to be a very good novel. It offers a complex and thought-provoking exploration of human nature and relationships.

I am a die-hard Updike enthusiast, a true nerd when it comes to his works. Therefore, I find it impossible to provide an impartial review of the Rabbit series.

However, what I can assert is that there is indeed a compelling reason for my intense admiration of Updike, and that reason is most definitely not absent in these books.

The Rabbit series delves deep into the human condition, exploring themes such as love, marriage, family, and the search for meaning in life. Updike's prose is both beautiful and incisive, painting vivid portraits of his characters and their complex emotions.

Each book in the series builds on the previous ones, creating a rich and nuanced tapestry of a man's life and the world around him. Whether you are a fan of Updike or simply looking for a thought-provoking read, the Rabbit series is well worth your time.

Uh... seriously?

This simple expression often conveys a sense of surprise, disbelief, or even a hint of sarcasm. It can be used in a variety of situations, whether it's in response to something unexpected, something that seems too good to be true, or something that just doesn't make sense. For example, if someone tells you that they won the lottery, you might respond with "Uh... seriously?" to express your shock and doubt. Or if someone suggests a crazy idea, you might use this phrase to show that you think they're being ridiculous. In any case, "Uh... seriously?" is a versatile and commonly used expression that can add emphasis and tone to a conversation.

It's important to note that the meaning of this phrase can vary depending on the context and the tone in which it is said. Sometimes it may be used playfully or lightheartedly, while other times it may be used more seriously or aggressively. So when using this expression, it's important to be aware of the context and to use it appropriately to avoid misunderstandings.

I have read the entire Rabbit series, which consists of 4 books.

The characters in this series are not the most likable ones. However, for some unknown reason, I was compelled to find out where the life of this particular character would lead.

The stories in these books make me feel uncomfortable, especially when considering the context of today's world.

The Rabbit series spans over 30 decades, and it gives a strong impression similar to that of the Mad Men Era.

Although I believe it was worth investing my time in reading this series, I still find myself unsure about my overall feelings towards it.

There are certain aspects that I appreciate, such as the detailed portrayal of the characters and the exploration of different themes.

On the other hand, there are also elements that make me question the value and significance of the series.

Perhaps with more reflection and analysis, I will be able to form a more definite opinion about the Rabbit series.

Most Honest Portrait of American Life!

The phrase "Most Honest Portrait of American Life" holds a great deal of significance. It implies a representation that is unfiltered and true to the core. Such a portrait could potentially capture the essence of the diverse experiences, values, and challenges that Americans face on a daily basis.

It might showcase the bustling cities with their skyscrapers and diverse cultures, as well as the quiet suburbs and rural areas that offer a different pace of life. It could also depict the various social classes, from the wealthy elite to the working class and those struggling to make ends meet.

An honest portrait of American life would not shy away from addressing the social and political issues that divide the nation, such as race, gender, and income inequality. It would also celebrate the achievements and successes of the American people, from scientific breakthroughs to artistic masterpieces.

In conclusion, a most honest portrait of American life would be a comprehensive and accurate reflection of the nation as a whole, warts and all. It would provide a valuable insight into the complex and ever-evolving tapestry that is the United States of America.

It is truly an exhausting experience to be a messy human being. And John Updike is the maestro of this messiness. There is something utterly captivating about his writing, although I often found myself getting lost in his unpunctuated, meandering descriptions of everything that you or the protagonist encounter. His writing is complete with a stream-of-conscious poetic style and almost relentless alliteration.

But just when you think you can no longer endure another narrative line, the people in the story erupt in their full-flawed humanity.

The reason I persisted with these books, which total 617 pages, is that there is something profoundly honest about the writing. Ergo, I surrendered and didn't worry about the meaning of every sentence or clause.

The protagonist, Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom, is the king of our human cesspool of bigotry, narcissism, sex drive, and confused anger. And none of the other characters are immune. Everyone is flawed and real, both in their dialogue and behavior. This is because there is no author secretly flaunting his God-like rightness or false compassion or intellectual cleverness. There is no showing off whatsoever.

These books are a kind of elegant human soup. But my God, it is exhausting to read two books in a row in this two-volume collection. It almost broke me.

The most significant aspect of this book lies in the fact that the main character is so inept.

He is a blind, selfish, and immature piece of shit. This very trait, however, is what endows the novel with its remarkable qualities. It makes the story insightful, as it delves deep into the flaws and foibles of human nature. It is tragic, as we witness the downfall and misfortunes that befall the main character due to his shortcomings. And it is viscerally and poignantly true, as it reflects the harsh realities and imperfections that exist within all of us.

Rabbit, Run is truly a great work. It captivates the reader with its engaging plot and well-developed characters. However, Rabbit Redux fails to live up to the same standards. It lacks the charm and depth that made its predecessor so memorable.

My first memory of being kind of disgusted by a character but somehow sympathetic was when I watched a particular movie.

In the story, there was a villain who had committed some truly heinous acts. His actions were so cruel and immoral that it was easy to feel disgusted by him.

However, as the movie progressed, we began to learn more about his backstory. We discovered that he had endured a great deal of pain and suffering in his life, which had led him to make the choices he did.

This new information made me feel a strange sense of sympathy for the character. I could understand, to some extent, why he had become the way he was.

It was a complex and confusing emotion, but it taught me that people are not always as simple as they seem. Sometimes, the actions of a character that we initially find repulsive can be explained by their past experiences.

This memory has stayed with me over the years and has made me more aware of the importance of looking beyond the surface when judging others.

I just completed reading Rabbit, Run. The critics were indeed right. Updike is an extremely talented writer, yet he can also be considered a misogynist (or at least his character Rabbit is). His prose is truly remarkable, thrilling, and well-paced. While I sometimes get bored with long descriptions, his were perfect and truly enhanced the story, enabling you to vividly picture exactly where, when, and who these people are. Additionally, the poet within me adored his interesting perspectives on the everyday, such as comparing a basketball hoop to a woman's skirt or describing thwarted arousal as a tiny angel with lead weights on her. However, as seen in those two examples, there is also this crude anti-women slant that persists throughout the entire novel and becomes tiresome. It is present in the descriptions and in the absurd way Rabbit actually runs instead of dealing with the chaos he creates. Updike makes Rabbit quite appealing, but I am left with an unpleasant feeling.

I read Rabbit Redux (10/09) after a significant break from Rabbit Run. The times had changed from the first book to the next, just as they had for Updike who wrote them 10 years apart. Has Rabbit grown? A little, and he does begin to expand his mind and worldview somewhat in this book, but he is still not a fully developed and responsible person. Reading the Rabbit books is like witnessing a train wreck or a soap opera. You don't really desire to be living in the world of the story, yet you can't help but get drawn in. It gives you the creeps, but you can't look away. As I mentioned in my review of James Baldwin's If Beale Street Could Talk, this book is highly racially charged and much more political since it is set in the 60s and one of the main characters is a black Vietnam vet. Of course, the other black characters are drug addicts, prostitutes, part-time pimps, and entertainers, so Updike has really resorted to the lowest common denominator in terms of his stereotyping.

Of course, he maintains the high level of writing he is renowned for here, and it is a very engaging story. In the end, after reading Baldwin, the Rabbit storyline is captivating and interesting, but in this day and age, it is no longer relevant. It doesn't reveal the problems of suburban white middle-class America to me. Not that fiction has to be relevant, but I feel that if you're going to immerse yourself in this melodramatic and terrible world, you might want to gain something from it aside from excellent writing. Then again, perhaps excellent writing is sufficient - it was enough to prompt me to read all 640 pages of these two books, and after another nice break, I'll probably read the next two as well.