In case you didn’t hear, we lost John Updike this week. I haven’t read much of his work in years, and regrettably, I have yet to read any of his Rabbit books, but I read Couples, The Witches of Eastwick, and most of his short stories and poetry in college and liked them very much.
In fact, I adore his short stories. They were, for the most part, simply brilliant.
Losing a writer like Updike is always a tragedy. When Kurt Vonnegut died a couple of years ago, I cried. I can still remember reading the story of his death as the sun was rising and streaming through my living window on an early April morning. Never before had a sunrise seemed so cold.
While I didn’t have the same emotional reaction to Updike’s death, I was saddened by the loss. I can’t help but think of all the potential stories that were still within him, now lost forever.
Can I suggest you take ten minutes and read his short story, A&P? It’s one of my favorites.
