Terrorist was published in 2006. John Updike died in 2009. This was one of his last novels and his last political novel. Obviously drawing from post-9/11 sentiment in America as well as the difficulty of Islamic issues and tensions in the country; Terrorist is the story of an Islamic youth and his struggle to become a man. Terming this novel as a bildungsroman is not exactly correct because the story is not totally a journey of coming to age. Ahmad Ashmawy Mulloy is the teenage son of an Egyptian man, who abandoned his son when he was three, and Teresa Mulloy a woman lapsed in both her Irish heritage and her birthright Catholicism. Living in northern New Jersey, the young man has a strong belief in his faith and is the prized pupil of the local imam, Shaikh Rashid. Ahmad early on has a school scuffle with a boy who accuses him of having desire for the boy's girlfriend. Ahmad not only avoids the fight but also represses his sexuality toward the girl because he believes that is what God asks of him.
Continuing on, Ahmad is pushed by his guidance counselor to attend college after he completes high school. Ahmad is a good student but chooses to become a truck driver because he believes that higher leaning is dangerous and against God's plan for him. He feels that being a driver will allow him to work with his hands and keep himself closer to God.
Ahmad is drawn into an Islamic terrorist plot to blow up the Lincoln Tunnel. He will fill his truck with explosives, block the tunnel and suicide bomb the tunnel all in the name of Allah. Now, your author has several issues with the above scene and the author who created it. First, I am a proud American. I have proudly proclaimed, "God bless America; and nowhere else." This country has lost thousands of lives to international terror. Oklahoma City, New York, Washington DC and Pennsylvania have all felt the scourge of terrorist action on this soil, not to mention Americans have been killed abroad in places like Somalia, Libya, Lebanon and Afghanistan fighting terror. My grandfather, great-grandfather and two uncles all served this country in the military and my great-grandfather lost his life in Korea defending out liberty. My father is a firefighter and I know he feels the sorrow and pain of FDNY losing 343 valiant men on 9/11 simply doing their jobs. In short, I have no tolerance for radical Islam. Those people hold no value for this world and their lives in it for them to do what they have done. I defend our support for the fight against global terror and the plight of Israel as they defend their sovereignty in the world.
Now, having said that, I think of Updike. And I think of The Coup where he wrote about Islam in Africa. That novel was political and included beliefs and lifestyles that are outside the norm for a chronicler of the suburbs. I feel that he did it well in The Coup but in Terrorist he is out of touch. He doesn't accurately depict what drives the young Ahmad to do what he does. Ahmad is an American and lives a good life (or as good a life can be led in New Jersey) and never in the novel do I really understand what drives him.
In the end Ahmad does not follow through with his plot, being told by his counselor that the plan is known by the FBI and they are ready to apprehend him as soon as he enters the tunnel. Again this detail is not fleshed out well by the aging Updike. It saddens me to see such a master at a loss within his own work. He forgets that the devil is in the details, and that minutiae that made him famous is lost in the work. He tries to jump on the political sentiment in the wake of 9/11 and the new opinions on Islam in this country. But, by 2006 he is somewhat late. So, a day late and a dollar short Updike publishes a novel that is short on details and long on ambitions. Melding the suburbs and a new idea like radical Islam should have been right up Updike's alley. But because he is lacking in detail the work falls short of what is promised. I wish I had never read this one because it diminishes my opinion of the author. As Kenny Loggins says, "You gotta know when to hold em, and when to fold em." And, like the proverbial cowboy having defeated the bad guys, Updike should have known when enough was enough, and he should have rode off into the sunset and left this book in his pocket. We all would have been better off.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Friday, November 2, 2012
Spiritual Iffyness
James Yerkes wrote a book about John Updike's thoughts and messages on religion. Yes, one author wrote about another and they both used printed media to spread their message. Somewhere the space time continuum is collapsing. Yerkes, whom I give credit for having studied Updike far longer and deeper than myself, quotes Updike by saying that there are three great "secret things" in humanity: they are sex, religion and art. This gives me pause; first because if I had known that two months ago all of this shit would have certainly been easier to write. The other is because of how these things are found in the Rabbit books.
Sex is not gratuitous in the Rabbit novels. There is no great love for the physical act found in Rabbit. Even in his younger days he seemed tired of sex, as though during his high school days and time in the Army he had had his fun. But these are not the sex novels. We covered sex and Updike's thoughts on the subject are contained in Couples. So, moving on.
Art. At this I shrug my shoulders. Rabbit is no art fan. Brewer is devoid of artistic culture, there is no Short North district there and no public sentiment that more art is better for the city and its denizens. I have yet to read Updike's "art" novel and I am doubting if there is one. But, the interesting thing here that leads into religion is this: Brewer, Pennsylvania is completely devoid of those sacred institutions of the spirit. This town never had an artist or a gallery. Never contained a live theater nor were there citizens who clamored for it. Hmm. I believe that I have discovered the "fatal flaw" of Harold "Rabbit" Angstrom and his universe and it is this: because there are no temples to the human spirit and no celebrations of human existence, the people lead empty lives. When they encounter hardship and tragedy, they look for answers. However, because there is no beauty and no spirituality they are left looking around for something that never existed. So, because they do not know what they never had they feel empty but do not understand why.
For the third secret thing, we have said much on religion and Updike. I am finding that because Rabbit has no real religious institution to turn to (even one he despises or forsakes) he is left at a loss when things in his life go badly. For Rabbit there is no beauty and no faith. He is caught in a spiritual iffyness because he wants to do good and be positive, but those tasks become difficult when he never knew really what was good and what was bad. It is like this: if all a person ever knew about art were paintings by Monet he would be a poor judge of art. Not because Monet is a poor artist, but because the world of art is so much wider and fuller than one artist, not to mention the forms of art that occur outside of the canvas. The same can be said for spirituality. Rabbit has never had real spiritual awareness because there is no outlet for it in Brewer. He is caught with a vague notion of what is good and no way to exercise it.
Sex is not gratuitous in the Rabbit novels. There is no great love for the physical act found in Rabbit. Even in his younger days he seemed tired of sex, as though during his high school days and time in the Army he had had his fun. But these are not the sex novels. We covered sex and Updike's thoughts on the subject are contained in Couples. So, moving on.
Art. At this I shrug my shoulders. Rabbit is no art fan. Brewer is devoid of artistic culture, there is no Short North district there and no public sentiment that more art is better for the city and its denizens. I have yet to read Updike's "art" novel and I am doubting if there is one. But, the interesting thing here that leads into religion is this: Brewer, Pennsylvania is completely devoid of those sacred institutions of the spirit. This town never had an artist or a gallery. Never contained a live theater nor were there citizens who clamored for it. Hmm. I believe that I have discovered the "fatal flaw" of Harold "Rabbit" Angstrom and his universe and it is this: because there are no temples to the human spirit and no celebrations of human existence, the people lead empty lives. When they encounter hardship and tragedy, they look for answers. However, because there is no beauty and no spirituality they are left looking around for something that never existed. So, because they do not know what they never had they feel empty but do not understand why.
For the third secret thing, we have said much on religion and Updike. I am finding that because Rabbit has no real religious institution to turn to (even one he despises or forsakes) he is left at a loss when things in his life go badly. For Rabbit there is no beauty and no faith. He is caught in a spiritual iffyness because he wants to do good and be positive, but those tasks become difficult when he never knew really what was good and what was bad. It is like this: if all a person ever knew about art were paintings by Monet he would be a poor judge of art. Not because Monet is a poor artist, but because the world of art is so much wider and fuller than one artist, not to mention the forms of art that occur outside of the canvas. The same can be said for spirituality. Rabbit has never had real spiritual awareness because there is no outlet for it in Brewer. He is caught with a vague notion of what is good and no way to exercise it.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Death in a Bathtub
Rabbit Angstrom is a man awash in a sea of meaningless life.
I have covered already his struggles with race and an evolving world in Rabbit Redux. But, there is one instance where rabbit finds
meaning, loss and a necessity. One thread that Updike spins throughout the tetralogy
is the death of Rabbit’s infant daughter, Rebecca.
She dies shortly after her birth in Rabbit Run. She has no speech and no character development. This
child is a sticking point of feud for Rabbit and Janice because they already have
one child that they are ill prepared to care for in Nelson and they cannot
manage as a family with two children. Rebecca is unwanted from the start; poor
thing never had a chance. Janice and Rabbit have a row, Rabbit leaves and
Janice settles into the bath with Rebecca. Peace and calm are found in the
soothing mist and warmth of the tub for Janice. However, this proves too
calming as Janice drops the baby as she falls asleep and wakes up in a gray tub
with a drowned infant. Janice is paralyzed, though not a nurturing mother to
wither of her children, she is floored by her action (or inaction, really the
proof of negligence or knowledge is left to the reader; as a positive person I
like to think the she fell asleep under pressure and did not intend to drown
the child) and is in shock at the outcome. Rabbit thinks for years after of the
scene in his home and his final act of pulling out the drain plug to allow the
murderous liquid to run down the drain and into the sewer. His act of first
rolling up his sleeve and considering the water that killed his progeny is
horrifying to me. Looking a killer in the face is difficult, but when the
killer is a liquid enclosed in a benign basin like the bathtub must be the
hardest of all. The water did no more than it was supposed to; it warmed the
bodies of mother and daughter, cleansed their skin and gave them calming
comfort. It would be different if a human had killed the babe or if a raging
inferno had claimed her soul. But water. In a bathtub. Horrifying that it occurred
that way. Harry feels more than guilt and anger. He blames Janice and yells at
her, but really he blames himself for more. He goes so far as to blame himself
for impregnating in his words “that mutt of a Springer with her thin bangs and
tan skin,” he runs away at her funeral giving the first novel its name.
Rabbit Redux is
full of guilt and shame. Janice sleeps around and moves out to forget the
horrors. She cannot forgive herself or Harry for the loss of a child. Nelson
feels neglected with a different form of survivor’s guilt than normal because
though he is the child that survived, he feels anger than he is forgotten by
his parents. In their loss they don’t care for their only remaining child as
they should. Harry allows him too much exposure to drugs, sex and radical
ideas. Janice for her part completely cuts him out except to take him shopping.
Nelson is not given the upbringing he deserves and his parents pay in the end
with his cocaine addiction and how he loses the family business in the end.
Instead of shame and loss, the parents should have remembered Rebecca and
thanked God that they have a child remain.
Rabbit is Rich finds
Angstrom expansive in both waist size and demeanor. Harry has hopped into some
luck as a successful Toyota dealer. He sells cars without passion though. He also
has sex without passion all around town and plays dispassionate golf. He is
middle-aged and killing himself with 1970’s hydrocarbons and foodstuffs.
However, though he sucks down massive amounts of TV dinners and leaded gasoline
smog, he cannot forget the daughter that he lost. Rain makes him think of Rebecca
as does Janice’s midafternoon drunk that comes around six days a week. Wasting her liver away with Campari, Janice
cannot forget the crime she committed against her baby and she does not forgive
Harry for she thinks that their fights and her stress caused it. Harry cannot
leave the memory behind; it is though a ghost child follows him everywhere. He
gets so nervous that he leaves in the middle of the night and drives through
Pennsylvania to Virginia in search of peace. His thoughts are heavy. And though
he drives many miles, slams doors, eats at diners and sleeps in cheap motels he
knows that eventually he must return. He is shackled to his town, his cars and
his woman as well as the horrifying scene he found in his bathroom so long ago.
It is as though he drives with a bathtub chained to the back of his car; every
mile and every exit, every turn and every route he takes but he cannot shake
the truth. That bathtub, ominous and brooding, full of life and death as well
as the dead body of an infant girl, Rabbit can shake none of this. For richer
or poorer, better or worse, sick and in health, Rabbit remembers the tub and
reaching into the lukewarm killer to release it into the world.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Rabbit doesn't care about cars.
In Rabbit is Rich, there
is a lack of spirituality that permeates the entire story. Rabbit is a Godless
man in a lacking world created by Updike. He attends no church, has no epiphany
and feels nothing new. He compulsively sleeps around, but just as easily would
sleep with his wife. He is a serial philanderer and is bored with sex and bored
with his life. He plays golf but dislikes his partners. Rabbit sells cars but
lacks the depth to care about what he is selling. He could just as easily sell
other products.
This is the key point to me. A man with soul loves his car.
A man with heart works on his car. And a man with pride shines the emblem on
the hood and proudly wears his fuel injected, piston powered, overhead cam
fired heart on his sleeve. Cars are a way of life to me. I am proud to be the
great-grandson of a machinist, grandson of a body man and son of a mechanic. I
have been in garages and shops since I could walk. My father has built and rebuilt vehicles for
the better part of thirty years. He has
an innate ability to work with his hands and produce a strong running machine.
He began working at Newlon Chrysler Dodge Jeep and Eagle before I was born and
cut his teeth on 2.2l powered K-cars and minivans as well as seeing the last
days of the 318 ci V8 in trucks and big cars. But this passion for cars,
especially Mopars, is something that he has passed to me. He has what Rabbit
lacks. Rabbit sees the cars as appliances, necessities that transport people
here and there and nothing more. And as far as cars are appliances, the small
ricer machines he sells are the epitome of that. Small, cheap, underpowered and
Spartan interiors abound in Toyota products of the 1970s. Now, the 70’s were
not a kind decade to the Chrysler Corporation. But look at the difference:
Notable Chryslers:
-Chrysler Cordoba
-Dodge Challenger
-Dodge Charger
-Plymouth Road Runner
-Plymouth ‘Cuda
-Plymouth Duster
Notable Toyotas:
-Cressida
-Corona
-Carina
-Celica
The Chrysler cars above connote power, comfort and speed.
Even the cheap Plymouth Road Runner could be had with Chrysler’s Hemi engine
rated (more like underrated) at 425 factory horsepower. But that engine block
can be modified and worked over to produce in excess of 1,000 horsepower. They
were large and had a long and low and wide stance. Toyotas are tin crapboxes
that can’t get out of their own way. Would you rather have a 1970 Plymouth ‘Cuda
breathing fire with a 440 ci V8 pushing 390 hp, three two bbl carbs on top with
rallye wheels and purple paint? Or would you prefer a Japanese made Cressida
with a 2 valve per cylinder I-6 pumping out a brutish 108 hp? In the words of
Eleanor Roosevelt, as quoted in Talledega
Nights, “America is all about speed. Hot, nasty, badass speed.”
I have strewn way off topic to once again proclaim my love
for the Plymouth brand. But, men who drive Plymouths are like me and my father,
men who care about how fast their car is and know how to make it faster.
Soulless men like Rabbit drove Cressidas and got their doors blown off at every
stop light. Not because the Plymouth driver is mean or brutish, but because he
can blow the doors off the Cressida. And in that ancient maxim: the strong do
what they will, and the weak do what they must. Give a man a Plymouth, and make
him a car guy for life. Give a man a Toyota, and he probably doesn’t care about
much.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
1979
This novel is the reason that I began to read Updike at all.
It was also one of the first novels that brought me to consider writing as more
than an academic necessity. The words on Rabbit are many, and I would say that
this novel is Rich is the flagship of
the series. This is Rabbit at his peak; he has his life together…mostly. He
runs the dealership and has reconciled with Janice. They live together with
Janice’s mother. Seemingly this was their idea for a place to stay after the
fire in Penn Villas and it has gone on for ten years. It is now 1979, Skylab is
falling, Detroit’s Big Four (including AMC before they were bought by Chrysler
in the 1980’s) are at the height of malaise (big, slow cars that were poorly
built and engines that were completely detuned and smogged out thanks to the
bastards at the EPA) and Rabbit golfs. He sleeps around and is infatuated with
Cindy Murkett, the curvaceous blonde wife of his golfing partner Webb. It seems
that Rabbit is not greedy, but is never satisfied. He doesn’t work hard for
what he has, so he has no idea of its value.
Further because he doesn’t work
hard he doesn’t have a good idea of how to attain more. So he has what he has,
and it is very nice comparatively, but he aspires for more because he is
clueless.
Rabbit has also gotten over those odd days of harboring
Skeeter and Jill. He is content to garden and golf in the suburbs of Brewer. He
takes a vacation with other couples from the Country Club and tries wife
swapping with disastrous results. Though he has a fun night with Thelma, it
hurts his relationship with Janice. And just before he can finally sleep with
Cindy, he and Janice must rush home because Nelson’s pregnant girlfriend Pru is
going into labor.
Once again Rabbit doesn’t get it all. But he cannot see the
forest for the trees because he doesn’t know what is really important.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Back to Basics
I have been remiss; this blog has not received the love and
attention it deserves. That will be rectified.
Transitioning from The
Coup to Rabbit is Rich is an
interesting slide. Updike returns to that familiar enclave that launched his
career: the American suburb. Ellelou and his plight in an African nation did
not hold my interest like the minutiae of Rabbit’s life does. I empathize with
Ellelou, he is trying to move heaven and Earth, literally building his nation
by hand, all to see it swept out from under him. He is a man who was doomed
from the start yet kept trying. He was a Muslim at heart and a Marxist by
default. His is a political tale of trial and despair. Updike really did a
great job of writing and building the world of Kush.
But, the world of Brewer Pennsylvania, USA is one that is
ready-made for the reader. Updike’s audience (me especially) can picture in the
mind’s eye an image of suburban American more readily and with clearer
definition than I can of a failing African state. Rabbit is more compelling
that Ellelou, even though I empathize with Ellelou as a leader and a decision
maker, because Rabbit is more approachable. While I am entering a conversation
on race or religion, Rabbit is more visible to Updike’s general readership. He
is a local car salesman with an adipose midsection and a taste for Schlitz beer
and the Philadelphia Phillies. He is not a Black-African-Muslim-Dictator-Russian
Ally who was college educated in the US and served in several armies as a sort
of mercenary. No, Rabbit played basketball in high school and is the son of a
union printer. He had no greater ambitions than to work and buy a house. While
Ellelou tried and failed, Rabbit never tried and found a modicum of success.
And that is the key difference, Rabbit is an everyman.
Updike wrote him ambiguously and shifty enough to hold no great ideology or
dogma. He is a Republican, kinda. He does not trumpet his politics anymore but
he does vote for Nixon. While he used to drive a Ford Falcon, with an American
flag decal in the rear window no less, he now drives and peddles small, foreign
made Toyotas. He plays golf badly enough to be approachable. His wife left him, and then came back; but now
he sleeps around and tries swapping partners on a bizarre vacation in the
Caribbean. In summary: Rabbit is nothing. He is a shill, a stuffed shirt.
Harold Angstrom, a man with no college degree and dubious Swedish heritage, is
a specter of a man. In this we find the middle of America. Men who weren’t movers
and shakers and certainly could never lead an African nation; but men who can
hit jump shots and chip from the sand. Men who have unsatisfying love lives and
children they can’t raise because they can’t speak to them. Rabbit is a stand
in for the average man of the Baby Boomer generation. A group, who never really
found themselves, but let interesting lives and in the end had a compelling
story to tell. Rabbit’s is the story of millions of men: listen to me. I am a
man who never wanted for anything and received more than I could handle.
And that is why Rabbit is so compelling.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Contradicitons Abound
Updike steps outside of the comfort of American suburbia for
his novel, The Coup. Here we find an
author at odds with himself, toeing the line between fiction and reality.
Hailed by some as his most political novel, The
Coup is an interesting case of contradictions.
To begin, Ellelou’s government in the novel is a form of
Islamic Marxism. This brand of rule is a contradiction within itself. Islam is
a government and ideology and religion all rolled into itself. Islam recognizes
no other government or rule for man that that of Allah himself. Shariah law dictates the lives of
Muslims and supersedes all other forms of government that man might create for
himself. So in this state of Kush, composed of tribal villages and farms, there
was largely no need for a Marxist dictator. The people through their faith and
local customs govern themselves. National government did not bring about
sweeping changes for the local populace. Being farmers they never had the
industrial infrastructure that other socialist states like China and Soviet Russia
did. Thus, there were no factories to bring under state control and no private
wealth to redistribute. This makes Ellelou largely unnecessary. While he looked
inward to Kush to solve some issues of starvation and disease, he should have
been looking outward. Reaching out for more foreign aid revenue could promote
new agriculture and foreign investment could put his people to work in
industrial jobs. This is what created his downfall. In a bloodless turnover of
power, his Minister of the Interior works with the American government to bring
in foreign aid and industry, two things which Ellelou detested.
But further this novel is a contradiction because it is a
work of fiction. To the author, fiction can be a contradiction. He has control
over everything in the story; as the characters are fictional he can bend them
to his will and shape them in his (or another) image. However, that much power
can become a problem because in the writing it can get out of control. Politics
and fiction do not normally mesh because they belong to separate worlds. All
politics is work of physical men and women. It is real and tangible. Fictitious
politics are the work of one man: the author. His political views and opinions
and workings always shine through into the novel. No other input is required.
In the writer’s world, good guys share his political views and the bad guys don’t.
Take Updike, his Islamic-Marxist dictator rules over a starving country that
has seen drought for five years. But, when he is overthrown in favor of a
pro-American man who is a dubious Muslim and has a taste for foreign clothing,
the rain returns, foreign aid pours in and seemingly Kush becomes a far better
place. As an American, Updike’s disdain for Russian-style communism shows when
Ellelou, the Soviet ally and former soldier, is cast aside for a softer man
favorable to Western powers and ideas. Ellelou has a heart of gold and
genuinely tries for his people. But when the chips are down and the buck stops
here and other overused colloquial sayings are needed, Updike casts aside his
warrior prince to make way for a silk-shirted, pro-American man who rules by
the numbers. And in between, Ellelou is cast into exile.
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