Rabbit at Rest

So sad to hear that John Updike, the wonderful American novelist and poet has died. Like many of his generation of American novelists, their sheer lifespan almost defies criticism - writers are supposed to write, be successful, be forgotten, and then be remembered again; not to be still writing, creating book after book. I can't pretend to have read more than half a dozen - the wonderful Rabbit novels (particularly the immortal "Rabbit Redux"), the seventies erotica du jour of "Couples", the scabrously funny "Witches of Eastwick", the obvious ones, in other words - but I also love his poetry, it was funny, slight, anecdotal, clever. I hope he's remembered for both. God likes his storytellers, and I think, tonight, he'll be staying up very late.