American author John Updike died of lung cancer yesterday at age 76. It's ironic that he had lately
come to be seen by many younger writers as a stuffy dinosaur, because when he appeared on the U.S. literary scene in the early 1960s, he was an exciting breath of fresh air. Suddenly, here was someone erudite and classically trained who had the audacity to delve into the lives of ordinary people, ennoble their struggles and aspirations, and generally approach the then-surging American middle-class as worthy subjects of serious literature. If that doesn't seem like a big deal, that's good: it's an indication of how influential Updike's approach turned out to be. He wrote several masterpieces, several creative flops, and a couple of handfuls of interesting, entertaining and intelligent novels along with a lifetime output of short stories, criticism, and poetry. If you're not all that familiar with Updike's work and you've read this far, you may appreciate a couple of recommendations, so here goes: Pigeon Feathers, an early collection of short stories; two of the four "Rabbit" novels, Rabbit Run and Rabbit Is Rich; The Centaur, which essentially made my head feel as if it was exploding, in a good way, when I read it in the 9th grade; and the somehow still-underrated In the Beauty of the Lilies from 1996.
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