John Updike, in 2 acts
February 22, 2009
Filed in: The Home Front, The Way We Live Now
Life’s a shabby subterfuge
And death is real, and dark, and huge.
Those are lines from one of the last poems from John Updike.
The man is cold in his grave—he died, in case you’ve been under a particularly large boulder, nearly a month ago now. But damnit, I have two Updike sitings to...
