Volume 36, Number 8 · May 18, 1989
Citizen Updike
By Elizabeth Hardwick
Self-Consciousness: Memoirs
by John Updike
Knopf, 257 pp., $18.95
John Updike, the dazzling author, appeared, and still appears, to be one of Augustine's 'fair and fit'—and never more so than when viewed among his male literary colleagues who often tend to show the lump and bump of gene, bad habits, the spread and paste of a lifetime spent taking one's own dictation. For this tall, and one wants to say still young, man, despite certain dwindling-days, September-song modulations in the composition of his memoirs, Self-Consciousness, everything seemed to fall into place. An only child, treasured by nice intelligent parents who, if not particularly well-to-do, were prosperous in respect and plausibility; born in a pleasant Pennsylvania village, Shillington, with its 'idle alleys and darkened four-square houses,' its high school, movie house, stores, avenues and streets whose names will have on his pages the curved beauty of Havana and Caracas, even if they are Pennwyn and Lynoak.
Review, 5459 words
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