Pigeon Feathers

by John Updike

"...Electricity lights his prose like a Christmas tree...so full of fire and ice that it almost breaks through to some 'fourth dimension' in writing, as do some of J.D. Salinger's stories."
—San Francisco Chronicle

"Some of the most beautiful writing in contemporary American literature is between the covers of this book..."
—Boston Herald

The triumphant bestseller by America's most exciting literary discovery.

Genres: Short Stories, Fiction, Classics, Literature, American, Literary Fiction, Fantasy

189 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1962

About the author

John Hoyer Updike was an American writer. Updike's most famous work is his Rabbit series (Rabbit, Run; Rabbit Redux; Rabbit Is Rich; Rabbit At Rest; and Rabbit Remembered). Rabbit is Rich and Rabbit at Rest both won Pulitzer Prizes for Updike. Describing his subject as "the American small town, Protestant middle class," Updike is well known for his careful craftsmanship and prolific writing, having published 22 novels and more than a dozen short story collections as well as poetry, literary criticism and children's books. Hundreds of his stories, reviews, and poems have appeared in The New Yorker since the 1950s. His works often explore sex, faith, and death, and their inter-relationships.

He died of lung cancer at age 76.

Reviews

[Vit Babenco · Rating 5 out of 5]

Any everyday life consists mostly of insignificant events: small talks, little pleasures, petty chagrins… John Updike observed every infinitesimal detail and managed to make it interesting… Unhappy marriages, accidental meetings, failed loves, children, adolescents, young men, parents, homecomings…
Flight is a vaguely autobiographical story of the first dubious love…

At the age of seventeen I was poorly dressed and funny-looking, and went around thinking about myself in the third person. “Allen Dow strode down the street and home.” “Allen Dow smiled a thin sardonic smile.” Consciousness of a special destiny made me both arrogant and shy.

In Pigeon Feathers a young boy, raised on religious dogmas, begins to doubt that there is afterlife so he turns fearfully anxious…

He lost his appetite for reading. He was afraid of being ambushed again. In mystery novels people died like dolls being discarded; in science fiction immensities of space and time conspired to annihilate the human beings; and even in P. G. Wodehouse there was a threat, a bland mockery that acquired bite in the comic figures of futile clergymen. All gaiety seemed minced out on the skin of a void. All quiet hours seemed invitations to dread.

Lifeguard is the divinity student’s inner monologue and his thoughts turn into a scabrous mixture of sanctimonious piety and salacious lewdness…

You are offended that a divinity student lusts? What prigs the unchurched are. Are not our assaults on the supernatural lascivious, a kind of indecency? If only you knew what de Sadian degradations, what frightful psychological spelunking, our gentle transcendentalist professors set us to, as preparation for our work, which is to shine in the darkness.

Any life has so many tiny facets – some facets shine bright and some are just tarnished.

[Katie · Rating 2 out of 5]

The first few stories in this collection bored me silly. They seemed like experiments at some kind of creative writing workshop. Pretentious, wilfully obtuse, the polar opposite of sexy. I couldn't get a handle on any of them. The jacket told me that, as a reader, I would come away with new insights. I didn't. There were a couple of stories later in the book I enjoyed - a story of three girls entering a supermarket bare-footed in bikinis was the first one I understood as a story and not some self-indulgent prose poem which began and ended in mid flight. Now and again I did suspect it might help to be American to appreciate Updike. I got bored with the same stifling small town setting of every story.

Sometimes when reading books I get a feeling about the author as a person, as if I've caught a glimpse of him in his study. Every time I get a glimpse of Updike I see someone I don't much like. Probably, along with John Banville, he's the author I'd least like to be married to. Why he's miles more famous than James Salter is a mystery I'll take to the supermarket with me. Certainly as a husband I'd choose James Salter any day.

[Paul Gleason · Rating 4 out of 5]

Updike's prose is astonishing - it elevates the mundane into the spiritual, with an earnestness that defies Nabokov and with the precision of a painter. It's no wonder that JU was an art student; his stories remind one of paintings.

The collection is at its best when JU writes in an autobiographical mode. I sense the influence of Proust (one of his favorite writers) in his attempt to regain lost time. "Flight," "Pigeon Feathers," "The Blessed Man of Boston, My Grandmother's Thimble, and Fanning Island," "Home," and "A Sense of Shelter" are written in this Proustian mode, only they're more relatable to me because they come from the pen of an American writer. These are some of the best short stories I've ever read.

The collection, however, has a few misfires, especially when JU writes in a more "experimental" way. He's just not Joyce, Woolf, or Lawrence - and that's fine. Stories like "Should Wizard Hit Mommy?," "Archangel," and "Lifeguard" are so overwrought and overcooked that they read like creative writing exercises and failed attempts to be "avant-garde."

[Gwen Southgate · Rating 5 out of 5]

Updike's recent death sent me back to the first book of his that I ever read - and loved on the spot. I was new to the US at that time, and Updike opened up a totally unfamiliar world - rural Pennsylvania. I had tended to think of the US, rather fearfully, in terms of its big cities but Updike, with his eye for detail and uncanny use of language, calmed my fears and showed me a world of ordinary, but complex and interesting people, wrestling with the same demons that we humans, everywhere, wrestle with: growing up; seeking love; aging & death; coping with life's disappointments and revelling in its joys.

He remains one of my favorite authors and I envy his skill with language, but I don't like his novels as much as his short stories.
Anybody familiar with one titled "Flight"? It's probably my all-time favorite.

[Emily Kestrel · Rating 3 out of 5]

Many years ago, in college, I read one of Updike's novels. I can't remember which--maybe The Centaur?--but I clearly recall that I didn't like it. I thought it was pretentious and sexist. But I decided that I shouldn't judge such an esteemed American writer based on my tastes and opinions at age 19, so when I saw an extremely grubby and battered copy of Pigeon Feathers in with the paperbacks the Old Book Barn, I decided to give him another try. And guess what? I still think Updike is pretentious and sexist. But now I have a grudging respect for his talent, too.

These stories are, for the most part, thoughtful, well-written, and convey a precise impression of character, place and a certain (now somewhat dated) segment of American society. But still, the unabated sexism! With the exception of the stories that focused more on the narrator's family and coming of age, such as the title story ,"Pigeon Feathers," I really did not care for how Updike presents women. He (or at least, his male narrators) seemed completely unable to get under the surface and present them as full human beings, but instead wallowed in ruthless descriptions of their flesh--and not beautiful flesh, either, but a mixture of the unattractive and the fascinating. Most of these women are described as an excess of flesh, cellulite, drooping butts, shelf-like bosoms, etc. Even the female children are often described as having "fat faces." After a while, I couldn't pass the buck to the male characters anymore, and started to think it was just Updike. On the other hand, his males are uniformly odious, cowardly and self-involved. Maybe he was just a misanthrope? Final impression: yes, he deserves his place in the modern canon. But that doesn't mean I have to like him.

[May Ling · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's Updike, the stories are going to be good. They don't speak to me, because I think the voice of Updike is White upper/upper-middle class New England, but I can't fault the writing which is always flawless.

[Courtney Ferriter · Rating 3 out of 5]

** 3.5 stars **

Updike's stories in this collection range from slice of life and scenes of a marriage to meditations on religion. As with almost every short story collection I read, I enjoyed and felt more engaged by some stories than others. The last two stories in the volume feel very randomly held together and lacked focus for me, but most of the others were enjoyable. I particularly liked the title story "Pigeon Feathers" along with "The Astronomer," "Dear Alexandros," "A&P," and "The Doctor's Wife."

Would recommend if you enjoy short story collections, particularly about men or boys and mid-century American life.

[Mariah Ben abraham · Rating 2 out of 5]

Loved the story 'Packed Dirt, Churchgoing, A Dying Cat, A traded Car'.

Fed up with reading the book, I was about to return it unread. Fatefully, a dull evening forced me to reopen the book & I ended up reading this one. The story made me love Updike in spite of all his other stories in the collection (some of which I did not quite understand).

In contrast to the solemn tone used in the story, I felt rather happy (with myself) after finishing it.

The protagonist of this story, is never ashamed to be the part of a group. He finds something unusual in every usual activity.He enjoys going to church every Sunday- '...to sit and stand in unison and sing and recite creeds and petitions...'. He is very unlike those, who love to show off their unconventional ways; who, in their frenzy of establishing themselves as 'unique' people, forget to enjoy the simplicity of life.

[Gregory · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's said about writing that "novels pay the bills." I'm so glad that Updike could afford to write short fiction because he was simply a master at it. Many of his short stories found their way into "Best of" collections and college texts because they deserve it. For instance, the lead story in this collection focuses on a young boy who has one of those maturation moments when he realizes that life is more profound and precious than he ever imagined. And it's found in a pigeon's feathers.

Also, there's a very nice PBS "The American Short Story Collection" video production of the lead story if you can find it.

[Vishal · Rating 4 out of 5]

A lovely collection of stories, that feels like a writer trying to bring together dissonant, scattered fragments of himself, to try and make himself whole again. Each piece is somewhat autobiographical and metaphysical, as if the vantage point of these stories are the very cells of the writer.

This is elegant, perceptive writing that begs repeat reading, often right after the story is finished, so one can nestle further into Updike's deep, richly metaphoric prose.

[Mon · Rating 5 out of 5]

*4.5

me after every updike short story: this man never misses

[Michael · Rating 2 out of 5]

I’ve got a rough road ahead of me with this author. Everything, every gesture, musing and breeze, gets the same florid prose treatment, and I was worn out by the middle. Unfortunately “A&P” (read and enjoyed in college) and “Wife-Wooing” are the only two I see myself returning to.

[Alok Ghimire · Rating 5 out of 5]

I should review Updike with the restraint and patience with which he writes. Each short story is of course its own thing and no matter how much the author insists upon the reality of a motivation other than temporal ease by which to name or publish a collection, I do not see much value in it.
The stories here are essentially first class. They are meticulously detailed. Their life breath is the organic growth of images and metaphors that are born and are killed within the lifespan of the story. Even moments of indulgence by the author become a sort of soft journalling.
I have no bad words to say.

[Riley Haas · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a collection of Updike's short stories and I feel like it might be his first collection. They range in length and quality but, on the whole, I think they are worthwhile if you like Updike as a writer.
"Walter Briggs" is an extremely well-written portrait of a brief moment in a relationship. Once you realize who Briggs is, the title either creates tension or disappointment (or a mixture of both). It's pretty slight but it's also pretty easy to understand why this would have been exciting to some people whenever cam out. This kind of honest but ambiguous portrait of marriage - in so few words - was probably a pretty rare thing.
"The Persistence of Desire" is another little episode in a married man's life, this time the married man has returned home and accidentally runs into his former flame. The details are all really well done. The character seems a little immature, but then I remember that at this time married men with young children were likely in their 20s.
"Still Life" is longer than the first two stories and feels more substantive if only because of its length. It's a unique story for me - I certainly didn't know the GI Bill paid for Americans to study in Europe - though it feels thematically similar to the other stories so far. This time the man is single and he's hoping to date a woman (girl really). This particular single man reminds me a bit of myself at that age, actually. Anyway, it feels very well rendered and written, as usual.
I didn't grow up in a small town like the guy in "Flight" but I can understand, still, some of his issues with the community of his childhood and teenage years. Perhaps it's because it's so richly drawn but I found this quite compelling despite the drama of the end.
"Should Wizard Hit Mommy?" picks up with the family from "Walter Briggs." This particular portrait of imperfect domesticity doesn't really work for me.
I found "A Sense of Shelter" really compelling. I have never had a stutter but I have been absolutely paralyzed around girls and also had trouble handling boys my age. This story does a really good job of highlighting adolescent struggles and how particular moments are frozen in time. For William, it's him telling the object of his affection about his feelings and not getting anywhere. For me, it's having the opportunity and not doing it.
I saw "Dear Alexandros" coming a mile away. I don't really go in for these "the ease of divorce has made us weak" type things.
I don't feel like the guy in "Wife-wooing" but I think I get it - he's just more extreme than me in my feelings. It's well written, like all of these stories, and it's hard to be too critical of that when you love the writing but don't like the character.
"Pigeon Feathers," the title story, is a prequel to Of the Farm. I didn't like the main character in the novel and I don't like him here, even though he's much younger here. Updike does a good job of portraying childhood intellectual confusion but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
"Home," on the other hand, is a wonderfully specific and vivid take on the idea that "you can never go home again," featuring a man returning to his country home with his wife and child, full of all sorts of great details of the kind that makes reading Updike so rewarding.
I have no time for the pseudo spiritual vomit that is "Archangel." I know I was in the wrong mood for this and I would have found more to it at a more receptive time in my life, but I don't think it fits in at all with the other stories in this collection and I really don't have any intellectual time for these kinds of ideas.
"You'll Never Know, Dear, How Much I Love You" is a great depiction of a child's first independent trip to the fair. It connects with me a little more than some of these because I once "got lost" at a fair but things worked up much better for me and I wasn't disillusioned like this child.
I would probably like "The Astronomer" a little more if I didn't feel like it equivocated as much as it does on its subject, but it's still very well rendered, like basically everything he writes.
I liked "A & P," one of Updike's most famous stories, more the first time I read it. It is extremely vivid but I think, for me, the thing that undercuts is effectiveness is the sense of knowledge the narrator has about his future. I think I would prefer it without.
"The Doctor's Wife" is very different from most of these stories, though it does roughly feature the same family that features in many of them. We're on Aguilla, the first time we've left the US or the UK, and an American confronts an old racist British woman. It hasn't dated that well, though that isn't to say I think it's racist. It's just hard to see what I should take from it, except that it's yet another instance of one of Updike's male protagonists feeling emasculated by a woman.
"The Lifeguard" is another of Updike's portraits of someone struggling with their faith. I must admit I had a lot of time for these types of things - I was a massive Dostoevsky fan - when I was younger but now I don't. They have ceased making sense to me now that I no longer struggle with these types of things myself.
"The Crow in the Woods" is another snippet of domesticity of the same family that has featured in many of these stories (Jack and Clare and their child or children.) It's wonderfully vivid but, like many of Updike's stories about domesticity, feels pretty dated with its gender roles.
"The Blessed Man of Boston, My Grandmother's Thimble, and Fanning Island" is a weird one - ostensibly a collection of three abandoned stories, I'm not quite sure what the point is here. However, the first two are clearly related and the middle one ("M Grandmother's Thimble") is excellent. The thing that makes me dislike the exercise is the third, which feels unrelated to the first two.
"Paced Dirt, Churchgoing, A Dying Cat, A Traded Car" works significantly better as a collection of vignettes because they all feel related. But, as with the previous collection of unfinished stories, one is clearly superior to the others ("A Traded Car" in this case) which makes the rest of it feel less consequential. Though at least this time it is structured so that the best one is the climactic one. It's an improvement for sure.
Updike is an incredible writer. I have a few problems with him, though, which keep me from celebrating him as much as other people have. Firstly, his work is too autobiographical for me. I am reminded of Phillip Roth, whose work is also usually autobiographical, but something about Roth's work (and his protagonists) usually connects with me in a way which Updike's doesn't. Roth's world is more relatable, Roth's narrators are usually more relatable. This is just personal preference.
The other thing is that, though Updike appears to be a non-believer now, most of his writing in this collection concerns questions of faith to some degree or other. Had I read him when I was 17 or 22 or maybe even 27, I would have had a lot of time for these types of questions. I don't any more. The matter for me is settled. I struggle reading over and over again about someone struggling to reconcile fact with mythic tradition. Again, this is just personal preference.
Because Updike is a wonderful writer and is capable of painting extremely vivid portraits of physical scenes, relationship drams and inner life. Some of these portraits of dated a bit - so that we might call some of his thoughts "sexist" or, occasionally "racist," though I prefer "prejudiced" - but it's good to read about other times, even when there is bias we don't like. I think this collection is still mostly worthwhile and is probably a better entry point than some of his novels.

[Annabelle · Rating 2 out of 5]

I first read John Updike's work, The Witches of Eastwick, in the early to mid-nineties. But back then I paid little heed to writers and their personages, and focused on the genre: anything that resembled Stephen King's work was worth a go. And Eastwick was as fun a romp as the movie, and had you asked me my impressions of its writer, I would have classified him as a comedy/fantasy/horror writer.

My first conscious exposure to Updike was probably between 2005-2010, while hanging out at the music library of Silliman University's pre-war Guy Hall, which then housed the School of Music and Fine Arts. It was here, while waiting for Suyen's weekly piano lessons with Berneval Montes--lessons I would eventually take myself--where I had some, if not most of the late Dr Albert Faurot's book and audio collection at my perusal. Scattered amongst his books on Music, Art and Architecture were some hardbound novels by Updike: Rabbit is Rich, Rabbit Redux, Rabbit at Rest; intriguing titles begging to be browsed. But the little I read turned me off. The protagonist, his wife, and their coterie of friends struck me as cocky, shallow suburban swingers. And if that just sounded like your typical characters from a John Cheever story, know that I was about a decade away from discovering Cheever, and today he remains one of my favorite writers. In any case, because of my run-ins with the Rabbit books, I've avoided purchasing any Updike book since then.

In the past two years or so however, I happened to read (or was I told?), that Updike's writing closely resembled that of my all-time favorite writer: Somerset Maugham. And as serendipity would have it, a wonderful cousin had just given me some of her husband's late aunt's prized collection of books, Pigeon Feathers being one of them. Verdict: Updike writes nothing like Maugham. But refreshingly, there is nothing of the Rabbit characters' arrogance here either. His stories seem fueled by nostalgia, and tinged with the convincing timbre of truth. The main characters are introspective, patriarchal mothers in the periphery. Pigeon Feathers is the best of the lot, and the only story I'm bound to remember, in part--not entirely. As a kid who was handy with a .22 rifle, I felt what mixed emotions the boy was going through as he shot those pigeons in the barn. (But what I don't get is why they chose to bury his kill. Over here, deep-fried pigeons would have made a most welcome supper.)

Two and a half stars (Goodreads doesn't do half stars).

[Soonha · Rating 3 out of 5]

Back in early April at a talk about Shakespeare’s timeless works, my friend shoved a copy of John Updike’s short story collection Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories into my hands. I said nothing, then, and he merely mumbled that he’d brought this book for me. After the event ended, I asked him, again, why he had given me the book, to which he replied he wanted me to read it. Oh, okay, I answered and thanked him, then put the book in the paper bag I’d had gotten with this another book I had purchased. A few days later, we were spending time together and the conversation arrived at the topic of Updike’s book. I asked if he had read it before passing it on to me; his reply — no, he hadn’t read it, and he wanted to know if it was worth his time and energy by making me read it first.

It took me about a fortnight to read the collection — although I do confess that to me the time I spent reading Updike’s stories seems to have gone on for longer than just two weeks.

You know why I think it took me so long to read the book? I think it might have been due to my distractedness and inability to focus during those days. I suppose reading short stories at such times helps because the stories are small and you can finish one story per 30-minute reading session. But, it didn’t help that Updike’s metaphors, imagery, and the kind of language he uses is so intense that I had to take frequent breaks to allow what I’d read to settle down in my mind — like dust settles on a surface, or the way in which salt and sugar settle down in a beaker of water. There is certain denseness to his prose, which requires a reader to be fully attentive as they read. Maybe my experience of reading Updike wasn’t as good as it should have been as I found myself unable to focus on anything at a stretch, exactly what was needed while reading this book.

The stories I liked best were ‘Walter Briggs’, ‘Still Life’, ‘Flight’, ‘A Sense of Shelter’, ‘Dear Alexandros’, ‘Wife-Wooing’, ‘Pigeon Feathers’, ‘Home’, ‘Archangel’, ‘The Astronomer’, ‘A & P’, ‘The Doctor’s Wife’.

[Kris · Rating 3 out of 5]

Wordy. Scattered. Filled with exaggerated descriptions.

So often the overdone descriptions got in the way of the actual plot and characters. There were several spots where I didn't understand what was actually going on beneath all the words strung together. The last two short stories in this collection consisted of what seemed to be random subjects strung together for no apparent reason.

It was a bit disappointing, considering the cover claims Updike is "the most talented writer of his age," and that it had been recommended to me personally. I enjoyed some stories tremendously, but they were few and far between ("Pigeon Feathers" is the best, obviously).

But every once in a while it did strike me how awesome Updike's words simply sounded:

"The distance between the doctor's eyes and the corners of his mouth was very long; the emotional impression of his face close up was like that of those first photographs taken from rockets, in which the earth's curvature was made apparent."

or:

"The flashlight, a tepid sun girdled by a grid of optical circles behind which Pennypacker's face loomed dim and colorless, came right to the skin of Clyde's eye, and the vague face lurched forward angrily, and Clyde, blind a world of light, feared that Pennypacker was inspecting the floor of his soul."

And every once in a while there is the occasional powerful message that smacks you in the chest:

"As he bent over the pages, yellow at the edges, they seemed rectangles of dusty glass through which he looked down into unreal and irrelevant worlds."

[George · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are a number of very good, well written short stories in this collection on nineteen stories, capturing the ordinary American, in an ordinary setting, in the 1950s, with some of the stories probably close to being autobiographical.

Here is a brief outline of some of the stories in the collection that I enjoyed:

There's a couple in a shaky marriage trying to remember an old friend's name on a long car journey, ("Walter Briggs"), a man with dilated eyes flirts with a woman in an optometrist's office, ("The Persistence of Desire"), the thoughts of an aspiring artist as he tries to befriend an attractive female student ("Still Life"), a young boy trying to understand about god and his thoughts on the subject, learns something about death when he has to shoot pigeons who have roosted in the family barn ("Pigeon Feathers), the thoughts and action of a young lad who works at the checkout when he sees three young women clad in only bikinis, walk into the country town grocery store, ("A & P").

[Sorento62 · Rating 4 out of 5]

This review is for the short story, Pigeon Feathers, by John Updike.
I found the boy's religious crisis compelling. However, the ending is ambiguous to me; it made the story as a whole less enjoyable for me -- I suppose because it makes me disappointed with the main character.
Update: Upgrading to 4 stars after dwelling on the story a bit more and finding an interpretation of the ending that suits me.

[James Henderson · Rating 3 out of 5]

This short collection of stories displays a realistic view of small town life that, presumably, Updike himself experienced. The title story, Pigeon Feathers, is especially moving in its portrayal of a young boy's crisis of faith. The experience of the reality of death has more import than the questions and answers obtained in the local sunday school.

[Rosalind Reisner · Rating 5 out of 5]

Right after my high school graduation, as my parents and I were walking away from the movie theater where the graduation was held, we passed a bookstore. My father wanted to buy me a book right there and then as a graduation present. This is what I picked, having just read Updike's Poorhouse Fair. Great stories, eye-opening for a teenager.

[Taylor · Rating 5 out of 5]

The one book I keep going back to. I believe it is my all time favorite, and will be for years to come. A beautiful collection of short stories--which is also why I think it will always be my favorite since there are stories for different periods of life. It's similar to my fondness for Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks. A must read.

Review written on Nov 11, 2013

[Douglas Cosby · Rating 5 out of 5]

Updike is one of the best pure writers of all time. This book of short stories exemplifies that fact, as plots don't matter -- he can describe the tangible and intangible, the simple and the sublime, better than any one else.

[Chris Gager · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this one a long time ago but I generally like Updike's short stories so I gave it a 4. Date read is a guess.

[Katerina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Updike at his best.

[Vivienne Strauss · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not Updike's best collection but glad A&P was included, one of my favorites.

[Philip · Rating 5 out of 5]

First published in 1962, Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories by John Updike reads now like it might be a masterpiece. On publication, it was considered of high enough quality to become a finalist in the National Book Awards. But how would it read over sixty years after its completion?

The answer to that question is “brilliantly”. Though he might have been criticized at the time for being just a little too fond of words, these days, after reading something “short and punchy” by a contemporary author, where “short and punchy” might be translated as “trivial and inaccurate”, John Updike’s long, often convoluted sentences seem to touch something close to the complexity of life, rather than skim off it, without really making contact, as the last contemporary did.

Around thirty at the time of writing, the author had yet to complete the novels that became his legacy to the world of fiction. He had also yet to develop the propensity to “go over the top” in his portrayal of some aspects of human existence, a stylistic tendency that nowadays mars his later books with self-indulgence. Not that these stories are anything other than self-indulgent, but their excesses take place outside the bedroom.

Set mainly in Pennsylvania in a town that resembles the one where he was raised, John Updike explores the frailties, the assumptions, the strengths, weaknesses and bigotries of local people, usually from within a family setting. He especially seems to want to understand people’s motivation to adopt religious belief, casting himself or his protagonists almost exclusively as outsiders looking into the church. Perhaps, also, they envy those inside, but sense an alienation caused by their need for rationality.

I did pick up one writer’s howler in the text. He refers at one point to seeing Bertrand Russell and T S Eliot on the BBC Third Programme, which was and remains as BBC3 a radio station. But this is at the level of nit-picking.

These stories, written at the start of a decade that would transform American society, seem now to be preoccupied with the starting conditions of that change. Black people’s rights, the onset of consumerism, the growth of individualism are all here, alongside a hint of realisation that the American Dream of the 1950s might not, ideologically at least, have outlived its decade.

So, in Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories by John Updike we now have a clear masterpiece of period writing that not only captures the feeling of an era, but it also goes beyond to document some of the assumptions that we now know came to dominate the way people thought.

Especially after something “short and punchy”, which in reality had far more howlers within its few pages that a writer like John Updike produced in a lifetime, this set of short stories, with their long sentences, prolixity of style and everything that goes with that, now comes across as a deeply human relief. Its characters reflect, rather than reject at face value, which seems to be a contemporary way.

[Whiskey Tango]

A & P
Sammy, the teenage narrator, begins the story by describing the three girls who have walked into the A & P grocery store where he works. They are wearing nothing but bathing suits. He is so distracted by them that he cannot remember if he rang up a box of crackers or not. As it turns out, he did ring them up, a fact that his customer, "a witch about fifty," lets him know quickly and loudly.

He finishes ringing up the customer's items as the girls, who have disappeared down an aisle, circle back into view. He notices that they are barefoot. He describes each: there's a "chunky one . .. and a tall one [with] a chin that was too long" and the "queen," whom he imagines is their leader. She catches his eye for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that the straps of her bathing suit have fallen off her shoulders.

Sammy watches the reactions of the other shoppers to the girls. He refers to the store's other customers as "sheep" and "a few house slaves in pink pin curlers." Another clerk, Stokesie, a married twenty-two year old with two children, trades innuendos with him. Sammy notes that the store, in a town north of Boston, is five miles from the nearest beach.

The narrator announces that he has come to what his family deems "the sad part" of the story, though he does not agree. The girls come to his checkout station, and Queenie puts down a jar of herring snacks and pulls a dollar from her bathing-suit top, a motion that makes Sammy nearly swoon. The store's manager, Lengel, spots the girls and reprimands them for their attire. Lengel further tells them that they should be decently dressed when they shop at the A & P.

Sammy rings up the girls' items, carefully handling the bill that just came from between Queenie's breasts. Other customers appear nervous at the scene Lengel has made at the check-out, and the girls are embarrassed and want to leave quickly. Sammy, in a passionate moment, tells Lengel that he quits. The girls, however, fail to notice his act of chivalry and continue walking out of the store. Lengel asks him if he said something, and Sammy replies, "I said I quit." Lengel, a longtime friend of Sammy's parents, tries to talk him out of it, but Sammy folds his apron, puts it on the counter, punches "No Sale" on the cash register, and walks out. He realizes that the world will be a harder place for him from now on.

[Jennifer Collins · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is the first complete collection I've read from Updike, though I've read his novels and a few of his stories in the past. "A & P"--one of the stories in this collection--was one of the first stories of his I encountered, and although I appreciated the language, it didn't particularly strike me as memorable or so powerful as his reputation would suggest. And, in general, that's where a lot of these stories land for me.

The mid-sized ones of around 10-15 pages are, for me, generally the most powerful and worthwhile ones here. Often centered around a character whose particular fatal flaw becomes clearer and clearer over the course of a story, and ultimately affects the ending of the story, these were the ones that carried me along with the most engagement. In the longest and shortest of the stories, Updike's language shone just as much as always, but I was reading to read. The last few stories in the book felt especially autobiographical and wandering, without the heft of many of the shorter stories.

I may very well read another of his collections and more of his novels, but it will be for language and his intricately built characters, fascinating as they are, as much as a want for story.

[Tessyohnka · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is the first I've read of Updike and I'm probably too old to say that without some embarrassment. Several passages (I think the accurate number is 24) required me to highlight -- things like:

"Hope bases vast premises on foolish accidents, and reads a word where in fact only a scribble exists."

"I was carrying her who had carried me, I was giving my past a dance, I had lifted the anxious caretaker of my childhood from the floor, I was bringing her with my boldness to the edge of danger, from which she had always sought to guard me."

and the juxtaposition of

"I am always affected...by the sight of bare earth that has been smoothed and packed firm by the passage of human feet."
and
"...to sit and stand in unison and sing and recite creeds and petitions that are like paths worn smooth in the raw terrain of our hearts?"

There is much to be admired, and I was occasionally quite drawn in, but found myself wanting out when he takes time ("some seconds") to look back on and describe his deposit in the toilet. It made me wonder how many authors have immortalized their excrement and whether it ever added to their story in any important way.