Great Revelations

To everyone who remembers reading John Updike's A&P in high school: I need to confess that I do not. Nor do I remember reading him in college, and I was an English major. I knew he was important and all that, knew I should know him, but you know how I do with "time" and "reading". I was busy in college, chasing boys and perfecting mascara strokes and what not.

So how about this, then.

About twenty minutes ago I came across A&P in a short story collection and thought I'd give it a spin. By the 7th sentence, my pencil was out and I was scribbling all over it. I was underlining everything that made me shriek in awe, everything that made me laugh out loud, everything I wish I was cool enough to write, everything that was so right on, Johnny...

Within ten minutes I'd marked up all five pages. Whaaaat just happened?!

I am in love with this man!

Before I go any further, here's the gist for those who want to be in the know. [I will be quick and the story is far from pretentious, so don't stop reading. You need to know this for your dinner parties.] Girls walk into a supermarket in which our teenage boy narrator works checkout. Girls are wearing bathingsuits and no shoes. One is chunky. One has a 'chubby berry-face, the lips all bunched together under her nose', and one is simply the queen ('you know, the kind of girl other girls think is very "striking" or "attractive" but never quite makes it, as they very well know, which is why they like her so much'). Boy Wonder at the checkout watches them as they peruse the store. They eventually settle on Kingfish Fancy Herring Snacks in Pure Sour Cream. Manager comes in. (Guess what happens? Read it. This one takes no time, and is therefore worth checking out. Otherwise I'd make something up, we'd pool what we know, and we'd all pretend we've read it. Trust me that I have your back here.)

So I go to google Mr. Updike, to see how old he is, thinking maybe I could seduce him; my husband would be so proud... and I find out - with a quick glance at the first line - that he is 77. Golden. Then I pick up my book, run into my kitchen, ecstatic to share said story with said husband, who proceeds to casually remark: I know can you believe he died today?

Whaaaat?

I'm a little freaked. I don't know whether to cry or bang my head against my book here or squeal promises of dedicating myself to spreading his brainwork.

So this post is in honor of my new love. And clearly, from reading beyond the first line of my google results, an old love of everyone else's. Just look at him down there. He was 76 when he woke up today. Read his story, if you haven't already, or if you haven't in a while ... he gets us. And we need that.




Love is a madness; if thwarted it develops fast.
- "The Memorable Assassination" by Mark Twain