An elegy in slow-motion. It is the last whimpering cry of a thirty-year-long arduous effort to depict, with unflinching detail, the life of a character. This character is so despicable in his smallness and so heinous in his mediocrity that one can't help but twist around in disgust until, miraculously, that disgust wraps itself into love. I love you, Rabbit! You crazy mother fucker!

Updike allows time to guide his pen. With every passing decade, he presents a new self on the page. I have witnessed the trickling specter of death transform into a gaping wound, and I have let it tear me in two. This book feels like the process of dying.

And as Rabbit says, it isn't so bad. There is a certain acceptance, a resignation in his words. Maybe, in the end, even the most tortured and flawed lives have a kind of beauty, a beauty that can only be seen through the lens of time and experience.

I finished this novel last night around the time I usually go to sleep. I was pondering whether to write my review right away or wait until those sleepy cobwebs vanished. I chose the latter. Now here I am, trying to gather my thoughts while Amélie is vying for my attention, and it seems it's going to be a very dreary Sunday. Not the ideal condition for writing a collection of thoughts that "Rabbit at Rest" invoked while I was reading it.

It was a rather lengthy novel, approximately 500 pages. Its content wasn't the kind that propels you forward at a rapid pace. It was like shoveling snow, slow and draining work, yet still worthwhile.

"Rabbit at Rest" is the final installment in a series of four books, all centered around Harry, Rabbit, Angstrom. It has been some time since I began reading about Harry's life, but each book had its own significance. These novels pack a powerful punch that you don't anticipate. Our main character isn't someone to idolize, as he makes his fair share of mistakes throughout life, but that's what makes him as real as you and me.

John Updike explores in his Rabbit series just how selfish and stubborn human nature can be. His understanding of each era in which we follow Harry's predicaments is spot-on. Although I didn't experience the 60's or the 70's, I still felt a connection to what he was conveying. His beautiful portrayal of the surrounding environment makes this novel come alive in a way that few others can.

His latest novel is set in the last decade before the new century, a time when everything was changing, and you had to adapt or be left behind. Since I was still a child in the nineties, I didn't witness the metamorphosis as vividly as Rabbit did, but in hindsight, it must have felt like being uprooted.

Harry is still resolute in his decisions, almost devoid of any sense of guilt. As he has done in the previous three novels, he still believes he can do as he pleases without facing any consequences. He's in his fifties, and the exuberant lifestyle of the previous decades is starting to catch up with him, and his heart is giving him trouble.

He's still not on good terms with his son, who has taken over the Toyota lot and is trying to make a living, while Harry and his wife Janice are in Florida for the winter to give Nelson the freedom he needs. Ultimately, Nelson spirals into a downward spiral when he becomes addicted to cocaine, and Janice is forced to help him. Although Harry has made his own mistakes, he resents his son for making his own and can't stop badgering him about them. Since no one takes his side in this argument, he becomes even more resentful. His fading invulnerability and his dependence on Janice put him in a dangerous state of mind, which ultimately leads to him sleeping with Pru, his daughter-in-law, while Nelson is being treated for his addiction.

What seems to be Harry's downfall is his lack of control. Janice has the money and favors their son over him. Given that it's set in the last century, you have to consider that it wasn't common for men to submit to women, although that's what Harry has done his entire life. He's never had to take responsibility, never been the man of the house, and never had to come to terms with any of the mistakes he made, which ultimately makes him a weak man. Someone who would rather run away than face the consequences.

I'll miss Harry and his world. I'd like to know if he will have a third grandchild and if he and Janice could reconcile. But maybe it's better not to know, because knowing Harry, he'll find a way to mess things up again.

My favorite part of the tetralogy is perhaps the moment when this asshole finally meets his end.

Throughout the story, this character has been a source of annoyance and frustration. His actions have caused countless problems and hardships for the other characters.

But finally, in this installment, justice is served. The anticipation leading up to his death has been building, and when it finally happens, it is a satisfying moment.

It feels like a weight has been lifted off the shoulders of the other characters, and they can now move forward without the shadow of this asshole hanging over them.

Overall, this part of the tetralogy stands out as a memorable and impactful moment, and it is one of the reasons why I have such a fondness for the series.

John Updike concludes the Rabbit Tetralogy in a bittersweet manner with Rabbit At Rest.

We return to Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom a decade after the events of Rabbit is Rich. It's the late 1980s, with Ronald Reagan on his way out of office and the Cold War nearing its end. Rabbit is semi-retired, spending the winter in southwest Florida, in a retirement community appropriately named Valhalla. He passes the days playing golf with his many new Jewish friends, while Janice attends meetings and women's groups. Nelson now has two children, Judy and Roy, with his wife Pru (Teresa). With Nelson in charge of Springer Motors, there seem to be some可疑的numbers that Rabbit is suspicious of, leading to constant fighting between them, which is the central conflict of the book.

Updike uses Rabbit at Rest to reflect on the opulence of late 1980s America and the various issues plaguing the nation. He spends a significant amount of time on how Reagonomics impacts Rabbit's life. The Angstrom family finds themselves in the rapidly urbanizing Florida, empowered by the bullish markets. Just a few years earlier, they bought a condo with a view of the coast, but within a couple of years, their view is nearly blocked by newly erected skyscrapers. Rabbit doesn't really care much for the beach, preferring the manicured golf courses and air-conditioned restaurants that the global market's success has provided him. They are surrounded by people who have greatly benefited from the American capitalistic system and can afford two homes. Harry enjoys the new perspective of his left-leaning Jewish friends, as he has only been exposed to the puritanical Protestant ideology of middle America. He feels a bit embarrassed that he likes Reagan and voted for him, while his golf mates belittle the former actor. Rabbit is enjoying his wealth while gradually trickling it down to the people of Deleon.

The rampant cocaine use of the 1980s is also addressed, with Nelson's debilitating addiction. Nelson is dealing with the traumas of his childhood, such as seeing his dead baby sister's body and watching Jill (whom he considered a sister) burn in a fire. The unfulfilling nature of his job and his strained relationship with his wife make cocaine seem like a form of salvation, but at a great cost. It is revealed that Nelson has stolen around $175,000 from the dealership to feed his cocaine habit and help his friend Lyle buy AIDS medication. Nelson is a baby boomer, disillusioned by the American dream and the glitz of consumerism. Only by going to rehab and connecting with a higher power can he find any sort of peace. Updike, a devout Episcopalian, believed in the power of religion, and Rabbit found himself connected to the Church and religion at various times. Although Nelson could resolve his drug addiction, his relationship with his father continued to deteriorate.

There is constant conflict between these two men. Nelson resents all the trauma his father made him endure, while Rabbit is angry that his son has stolen such a large sum from the dealership, cutting short his retirement. I feel for both of them. Rabbit has abandoned his son on several occasions and constantly berates him for his shortcomings. Nelson is also a mess, crashing several cars and stealing from the legacy his grandfather built. Yet Rabbit takes it too far by sleeping with Pru, betraying his son Nelson and his wife Janice. When Janice asks Rabbit to come over and hash it out with all of them, Rabbit once again goes on the run.

After four books, it's undeniable that Rabbit is a complete and utter asshole. Even in his old age, he can't be loyal to his wife, having a long-running affair with Thelma. When Thelma's husband Ronnie confronts him at Thelma's funeral, he can't even apologize but instead rubs it in his face. Rabbit also reflects on all his affairs in life with little to no regret and is unwilling to call his wife of thirty years to reconcile. When Rabbit meets his end, I was sad. He was a friend to me, a flawed friend but still a person, a product of his environment, of male dominance, the belief in American exceptionalism, and human limitations.

Well, Updike, you put me through quite the experience, and I'm glad I went on it. You combined beautiful prose with a compelling family drama and fully developed characters, along with some incisive social commentary. I'm afraid to proclaim these as some of my favorite books, perhaps my number one tetralogy, due to its problematic nature. But I have to say it's a great read!

The 1991 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction was a remarkable achievement.

This series of four books delves into the life of Harry 'Rabbit' Angstrom across different phases. Starting as a young husband and father and progressing to the golden years of retirement, he often looks back on his days as a basketball star in high school, where his prowess earned him the nickname Rabbit.

Two of these books won the Pulitzer in their respective years. The fourth and final book was my favorite. However, to truly understand the characters, their history, and the dynamic, one should read all four. While I didn't enjoy all of them, I do understand why two won the Pulitzer due to the writing.

The storytelling has a somewhat mundane feel, like going through an ordinary day, year after year. But it's also extraordinary. The author brilliantly describes a drive through town, seamlessly detailing numerous things with great precision. It's a trip back in time, with descriptions of songs, advertisements, car styles, long-gone stores, clothing and hair styles, and more, all fitting the era of each book. This enriches the story and immerses you in the setting with Harry.

The storytelling is also mundane in the way it portrays the characters, but the brilliant writing keeps you fully engaged. Mundane brilliance might not be a great selling point, but trust me, you might end up liking these books despite your initial reluctance. The author definitely drew me in.

Harry Angstrom had quite a life!

The last installment of the tetralogy was the first one I read. I wonder if my perception of it would have been different had I known the character of Rabbit prior to this.

Contrary to what some might think, I didn't find it unreadable at all. In fact, it contains some truly remarkable insights and astute observations about human nature. At times, it is even quite humorous, which adds an interesting layer to the narrative.

The characters in the story are engaging and hold the reader's attention. However, one cannot ignore the fact that there are numerous pages where not much of significance seems to occur. This can make the reading experience a bit sluggish at times.

Overall, while the book has its strengths, the pacing issue does somewhat detract from the overall enjoyment. Nevertheless, it is still a worthwhile read for those interested in exploring the complex themes and characters that the author has presented.

I truly adored this book. It came as a bit of a surprise to me because, although I did enjoy Redux and Rich to some extent, I had numerous issues with them and found certain parts to be a real slog. I had suspected that the fourth and final book in the Tetralogy would have similar problems, but I was happily proven wrong. While Updike's typical annoying tendencies are still present, they are toned down and more justified.

This was an extremely focused novel. It delved deep into the decay of life and the process of making peace with one's mortality and mistakes just before the end. Every single detail that emerged was connected back to this central theme. The series, which began with a focus on motion and wanderlust, ended with ennui, impotence, and stasis. This devolution has been the backbone of the series, and it was satisfying to see it emphasized here. There were many callbacks to earlier moments in the series, which was a nice touch. Updike's writing still shone through, especially when he described Harry's heart condition. Since I've never had to deal with such a thing, reading those in-depth descriptions was particularly unsettling. Additionally, it was great to see Janice finally come into her own after being Harry's "mutt" for so long.

In contrast to the last two books, which were often muddied with period details, this one used them sparingly and only when necessary. There was still a fair amount to wade through, but they felt more "earned" this time around. I was actually shocked at how different this book was. I hadn't expected the last book to fix problems that seemed so deeply ingrained in the series' DNA. Not only did this book correct them, but it also cast the ostensible drawbacks in past books in a new light. In a way, this book is like a cipher key to the series, revealing what these books had been ultimately building towards and what they had been saying all along. I finally understood that Rabbit's megalomania gave him the sense that the world was flowing out from him. He is the Everyman, and this is a very white American male perspective. Television and newspapers are so prevalent in American culture, especially for men of Harry's generation, that they often connect their lives around these events. This theme was finally driven home in Rest and colored the period details in a much different way in Redux and Rich. I wonder if, upon rereading those books, I would see them differently. Those details now seem more like character development rather than overdone exposition. I didn't think Updike would be able to rein in the craziness of this series in the finale, but he proved me wrong.

This cipher also revealed other things. Rabbit's focus on everyday materials has always been because the physical world is more permanent than his own life, and this bothers him. It was kind of heartbreaking to reach this point with the theme because it shows that Rabbit was always trying to understand why he was so fascinated by these things, and now he has come to this conclusion, one that he was probably always destined to reach. It makes me wonder if these things are series correctives or series summations. This particular instance feels more like a summation. But did Updike listen to people's criticisms of the first three books and use this book as a defense of those things, or did it just naturally feel like the right place to make this book a framing device for all that came before? I imagine that as we all near death, we look at the confusing or difficult things that happened earlier in our lives in a new perspective, so maybe it's the latter.

Both of these above themes are hammered home excessively in this book, which is another reason that makes me think Updike just wanted to address the haters with them. However, they are surrounded by so many powerful existential observations that I'm able to overlook their loud timbre.
Harry was an asshole for much of the series, often to the point where it made you want to give up on reading. But in this book, he was definitely more in touch with his past transgressions. Although he is also in a position where he can't do much about them. He's stuck, he's dying, and he can't go back and change his past. That tension is incredibly compelling and heartbreaking, and I loved that Updike built the entire novel around it. It's not a clean fairy-tale redemption where Harry miraculously changes his ways. He recognizes them but is still doomed to repeat his past mistakes. And, in terms of his adultery and running from his problems, to an even worse effect this time around. So has he changed? Well, he's more aware, but it would be too much of a stretch to say he's made a complete 360. That's the human condition, and it's similar to where Don Draper ended up at the end of Mad Men - awareness often taking the place of full-on change.

***SPOILERZ***
At first, I felt the ending was too abrupt. Not Harry's time in Florida at the end, which was way too drawn out, but the final scene with him and Nelson. I had expected more, after all that navel-gazing and rumination on life throughout the entire book, instead of Harry just fizzling out. Then I realized how much it made sense, how true to life it is. You spend all this time generating life and thoughts about life, and then you just die. It feels abrupt, informal, and unfair, and that's exactly how it's presented in the book. The book just kind of ends, the same way life just kind of ends. And for that, I think the ending is brilliant. I know there's a coda in the form of Rabbit Remembered, but I kind of love that it ends with unfinished business in terms of Harry never telling Nelson about his sister and Janice never fully getting resolution (though obviously she did get to tell him she forgives him). Also, Harry's ego ultimately being the death of him is such an American way to die. He's so full of himself that he thinks he's immortal, ignores his doctor's advice, and just continues to fatten himself physically (on food) and metaphysically (on nostalgia, on ego, on selfishness) until he explodes. That he kills himself by engaging with nostalgia and his pride over his lost basketball career one last time was perfect. "Enough" was a great note to end things on. The American Dream ends because it exhausts itself, and I think there's a lot to glean about the AD through lazy, nostalgic, conservative, myopic Harry Angstrom.
Now that I can look at the series as a whole, I can make more sense of the rise and fall of Harry Angstrom and his family. It's a beautiful series, with a lot to say about life, America, and the latter part of the 20th century. The books are important, though not essential. I got so much out of this series and definitely feel different having read them (Updike is so incisive in his detailing of how humans think, and it's certainly honed how I think and write). But if you never read these books in your life, you're not missing out on something super essential. If you have a certain temperament, they're great and life-changing; if you don't like reading about asshole white straight American men, you'll probably want to skip out on this "tetralogy". In terms of ranking, I think Rest is actually my favorite. I wonder, though, if it's only because of the sometimes slog-like buildup of the previous books and the feeling that Rest gives a really great payoff. In other words, was it because of the dredge of the past books and Rest kind of "cleaning" that away that Rest succeeds? Or does it succeed on its own built-in merits (btw, there are so many references to past events that I'm not sure someone could go into this book blindly having not read the rest of the series)? I don't know exactly, but I think it's a perfect capper to the series and it really affected me. Regardless of whether it did that as a book or as the end to a series, it still hit me harder than Run, so I'm going to rank them as follows:
1. Rabbit at Rest
2. Rabbit, Run
3. Rabbit is Rich
4. Rabbit Redux

January 27, 2009 -- My heart is filled with grief. John Updike passed away today.

January 18, 2009 -- I am truly relieved to have finally completed Rabbit at Rest, the last book in John Updike's Rabbit series. Reading this final installment has also softened my heart. Although I still dislike the character of Rabbit Angstrom as much as before, I now have sympathy for the man. And it is a fitting response to a person's death to be able to set aside petty differences and mourn with those who loved him, even if that love, like his wife Janice's, seems to be born more out of familiarity and habit than out of a shared sympathy of thought.

Throughout these four books, Updike has done an excellent job of referring back to earlier moments in Rabbit's life. Whether they are childhood memories that preceded the events in Rabbit, Run, or memories of events that occurred within the pages of any of the four books - that is, events that I myself experienced through reading about them.

Similarly, Updike does a masterful job of closing the circle on Rabbit's life by repeating two significant episodes that began Rabbit, Run and my acquaintance with Rabbit. At the very beginning of the first book, Rabbit, then a twenty-something ex-high-school basketball star still in good physical shape, intrudes on a group of high schoolers playing basketball and defeats them in a pick-up game. Disheartened, perhaps, by the contrast between the promise of his youth and the daily grind of his young adult life, he is prompted to try and escape his pregnant wife, Janice, and their young son, Nelson, and drives south into the night, hoping to reach the Gulf of Florida and dip his toes in the water. He never reaches the Gulf but turns back - only to refuse to return to his wife. Instead, he sets up house with Ruth, his prostitute-turned-lover, and sets in motion a disastrous chain of events whose ultimate conclusion - the death by drowning of his baby daughter - still has its icy fingers on Rabbit's life and on the lives of Janice and Nelson in the last book, Rabbit at Rest. And it is at the end of the last book that Rabbit, now old and enfeebled by heart disease, tries to escape these icy fingers by driving once again to Florida in a road trip that parallels the first one, but now to the condo that he and Janice own on the Gulf. Having finally reached Florida, he plays a last game of basketball - intruding again on the life of a kid, a stranger to him, that he sees playing basketball. It is during this last game that he suffers what will ultimately be a fatal heart attack.

And herein, I suppose, lies the sympathy that I feel for Rabbit. We all make mistakes and hurt people, and we all will die in the end. And we all avoid learning from our mistakes, meaning that we are then condemned to repeat them. And I also guess that I believe we all have some spark of divinity within us, however small.

I'll close with a quote. The speaker is Rabbit's heart doctor; Rabbit's answer is silent:

" 'What's wrong with running your blood through a machine? What else you think you are, champ?'

" 'A God-made one-of-a-kind with an immortal soul breathed in. A vehicle of grace. A battlefield of good and evil. An apprentice angel. All those things they tried to teach you in Sunday school, or really didn't try very hard to teach you, just let them drift in out of the pamphlets, back there in that church basement buried deeper in his mind than an air-raid shelter.' "

It's a rather melancholy feeling to be leaving Rabbit behind. Maybe one day I'll have to pick up these books and read them again. All of them were excellent, although Rabbit at Rest was perhaps my least favorite. The plot seemed a bit slower, with long descriptions of scenery. However, there were still some remarkable highlights.

When the big moment arrives:

"The small effort and anxiety of the maneuver cause such intense pain in his chest that tears well up in his eyes. Yet, deep down, he feels a strange sense of well-being. There is a satisfaction in finally being found by his celestial adversary. The sense of doom that has been hovering over him for the past few days has now condensed into reality, just as clouds condense into much-needed rain. Along with the misery, there is a lightness, a sense of relief. Vast portions of the world are suddenly shorn off and become ignorable. He simply becomes a piece of physical luggage to be delivered into the hands of others."

Reflecting on 35 years of marriage:

"They did have some enjoyable times, he and Jan. The thing about a wife, and he supposes a husband too, is that almost anyone would do within broad limits. Yet, you're supposed to adore them until death do you part, until the end of time. Ashepoo River. Wasn't that a comic strip from years ago?"

It is rather appropriate that I would complete this book on July 4th.

In the Los Angeles Times just last week, a total of nine writers shared their thoughts on what they regarded as the "Great American Novel". Interestingly, nobody selected John Updike's "Rabbit" series. However, had I been posed the same question, I would most definitely have written about this remarkable series, especially focusing on the final installment, "Rabbit At Rest".

In fact, I have already given away or donated the other three books in this set. But this particular one holds a special place in my heart. It is my favorite, a true keeper that will always remain on my bookshelf.

Harry Angstrom, the protagonist, looks back on his life with a unique blend of humor and thoughtfulness. He has mellowed in his later years. Although he is actually only around 56, his poor health makes him appear much older.

As he spends time in his hometown in Pennsylvania and during his semi-retired days in Florida, his thoughts and reminiscences are filled with rich and perceptive observations of the life that unfolds around him.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the decisions he and his family make, one cannot help but see aspects of oneself, both the good and the bad, reflected in this extraordinary work that truly deserves the title of the Great American Novel.

Sure he's a misogynistic asshole, but I enjoyed my time with Rabbit.

Rabbit was a complex character. On one hand, his misogynistic views were truly offensive and made me cringe at times. However, there was something about him that still managed to draw me in.

During our time together, we had many interesting conversations. Despite his flaws, he had a certain charm and wit that could be quite entertaining. We explored different topics, and I found myself learning new things from him, even if I didn't always agree with his opinions.

Moreover, Rabbit had a way of making me see things from a different perspective. His unconventional thinking challenged my own beliefs and made me question some of the things I took for granted.

In conclusion, while Rabbit's misogyny was unacceptable, I can't deny that I had an enjoyable time with him. He was a unique individual who left a lasting impression on me.

The Rabbit Angstrom series is truly one of the most captivating collections I have ever had the pleasure of reading.

What makes it so fascinating is that each book delves into a specific time period, rather than simply focusing on the life of a single character. Spanning from 1961 to 1991, with a decade between each publication, we are able to witness the profound changes that America undergoes during this time.

The main character, Rabbit, is not an immediately likable man. However, by the end of the final volume, I find myself surprisingly saddened to part ways with him. Even more so, I am struck by the waste he has made of his life.

Yet, for me, the true power of these books lies in their ability to tell a tangibly real story of our country during the second half of the 20th century. Every detail is meticulously crafted and hits the mark perfectly.

If you lived through these eras, reading these books will surely evoke a sense of nostalgia, causing you to reminisce about events and memories that you may have long forgotten.

Even if you did not experience these times firsthand, you will still gain a far deeper understanding of the era and the forces that shaped it.

Overall, the Rabbit Angstrom series is a must-read for anyone interested in American history, literature, or simply a good story.