Bang, bang, bang, goes the farmer's gun

I have long resisted reading John Updike's Rabbit books, I know not why, because I have greatly admired other books of his - notably Memories of the Ford Administration.  But I was persuaded by a chance sighting of Rabbit, Run in a bookshop, and I was part way though it when he died a few weeks ago.  This meant there was a lot of critical and adulatory writing around, which was both helpful and a little off-putting:  I felt I really had to like him, now that he had died and everyone was saying how wonderful he was.  He claims the echo of the traditional English song was accidental, but it's so appropriate, I include a link so you can hear it.

"Rabbit" is the nickname of Harry Angstrom, high school hero for his basketball skills, but an aimless small town misfit once he leaves school - but one with a wife (bored and alcoholic), child, a low boredom threshold and high sexual needs.  He walks out, and the great ignominy of his flight is the fact that he gets lost, retraces his tracks and goes to earth not in the sunny south, but in his own town in Pennsylvania.  He's not an inspiring character, and throughout the book he shows a propensity to run away from his responsibilities, repent without quite knowing what that means, and run away again -sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively.

Set in the spring of 1959, you think at first it's going to be a road movie, so to speak, but when he gets back to his home town, Rabbit stays there - but just not with his wife.  He makes a profession of running away - originally from wife, children and home (more than once), then from a prostitute he's been living with, then later from his parents and parents in law, and indeed from anyone who he has a duty to or could help him.  He runs from a job, from responsibility, from boredom, from almost anything that might tie him down - but when he's free, he doesn't know what to with his freedom, and creates another trap for himself.

Two minor figures became important to me: first, the pastor Eccles, who really does try to help him, and with whom Harry (Rabbit) has some great conversations, often, bizarrely enough, on the golf course.  The other great character is the acerbic Mrs Smith, a widow for whom Harry does gardening for a while.  She has a stimulating, amusing, malicious take on the world, and she hates - but really hates - rhododendrons (which makes her my friend, for sure).  The book ends on an indeterminate note, with more running, and rejection; the message seems to be that Rabbit has irretrievably lost his way, just like middle America as a whole.  I don't buy that, of course, and nor does Updike, as I think we'll find out in future Rabbit books!

Updike famously said:  "The United States, democratic and various though it is, is not an easy country for a fiction-writer to enter: the slot between the fantastic and the drab seems too narrow.  An outsiderish literary stance is traditional ... ".  I don't know exactly what that means, but I intuit something of it; in any event, it's clear to me that Updike, who takes a very "insiderish" stance, succeeds with aplomb.  Rabbit, Run was not always a comfortable read, but I'll be back in due course for Rabbit Redux.

Comments

[Dark Puss]

I nearly borrowed Rabbit Run recently as it is a trilogy I have often wished to read. However I borrowed Kafka on the Shore instead (the cute black kitten on the cover got the better of me). I must say I am not disappointed in the Murakami, and the concept of a flute made from the souls of murdered cats is an intriguing and disturbing one, especially for me. I´ll finish the Murakami next week and then I think I will seek out Updike.

[Mr Cornflower]

I hope you get as much out of Updike as I have found in Anthony Powell, to whom you introduced me. Updike's prose is compelling, his insights often uncomfortable but essentially humane and civilised.