All at once it is though I should feel everything and nothing for the passing of this man. He was published in The New Yorker at 22 (I turn 27 this Friday) so I have to resent him a little bit for being more of a "go-getter-genius" than I am.
I honestly don't know if I have read any John Updike. I feel like I have always known his name. Them man published something like 50 books in his lifetime. That is astounding to me. I continue to wind through my days like a spinning ballerina on an antique musical toy - perhaps I will publish one day - perhaps I will teach like a pro - perhaps I will be respected, revered, read.
How was this man so prolific? What drove him? What did he have that I don't? Obviously all these ruminations are quite useless, I'm sure he would chastise me for sitting here thinking about him when all he wanted was for me to read his words. I think I will search for some of them right now.
There was only one John Updike. I'm sad that he has left this mortal coil.
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Amazing productivity. Not only did he publish 50 books, he won the Pulitzer Prize, twice! Here's a link to one of his most famous stories, A&P:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.tiger-town.com/whatnot/updike/