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More Matter: Essays and Criticism
In this collection of nonfiction pieces, John Updike gathers his responses to nearly two hundred invitations into print, each “an opportunity to make something beautiful, to find within oneself a treasure that would otherwise remain buried.” Introductions, reviews, and humorous essays, paragraphs on New York, religion, and lust—here is “more matter” commissioned by an age that, as the author remarks in his Preface, calls for “real stuff . . . not for the obliquities and tenuosities of fiction.” Still, the novelist’s shaping hand, his gift for telling detail, can be detected in many of these literary considerations. Books by Edith Wharton, Dawn Powell, John Cheever, and Vladimir Nabokov are incisively treated, as are biographies of Isaac Newton, Abraham Lincoln, Queen Elizabeth II, and Helen Keller. As George Steiner observed, Updike writes with a “solicitous, almost tender intelligence. The critic and the poet in him . . . are at no odds with the novelist; the same sharpness of apprehension bears on the object in each of Updike’s modes.”
928 pages, Paperback
First published September 14, 1999
About the author
John Updike
933 books2,512 followersJohn 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.
He died of lung cancer at age 76.
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
April 2, 2024
The droppings of wisdom from a lifetime of writing
At 928 pages, this is a smorgasbord of writing, collected over the long career of this journeyman writer who insisted that he made his living from this tenuous profession.
To cover the sweep of this book in a review would be Sisyphean, suffice to say that it is centred around the articles he contributed to the New Yorker during his early employ there in the 1950s and his subsequent relationship with the magazine as a freelancer. His role is that of the reviewer, primarily, of books written in the 1990s, of writers from the last century, and of personalities from antiquity. He covers his writing colleagues at the venerable magazine, such as John Cheever and John O’Hara in more than one place, and the two Williamses – Shawn and Maxwell, editors who shaped and nurtured his writing career.
It is his observations on the craft of writing and the life of a writer that stood out for me:
- Writers eye each other with vigorous jealousy and suspicion. They are swift to condemn and dismiss, as a means of keeping the field from getting too crowded.-
- Writing is life and death to writers. An intense competition rages for the pale limelight of literary publicity and for the never-large and presently dwindling body of serious readers.
- The moment when the finished book or, better yet, a tightly packed carton of finished books arrives on my doorstep is the moment of truth, of culmination; its bliss lasts as much as five minutes until the first typographical error or production flaw is noticed.
- The writer’s most important asset is not wisdom or skill but an irrational, often joyous sense of importance attaching to what little he knows; and this is a religious sensation.
- On the Post-Modern Novel: These glimpses of independent personalities, of half-round bubbles allowed to materialize in the turbulent flow of the onrushing monologue, make one aware of how much the postmodern novel has lost in putting aside the objectives of old-fashioned third-person realism.
- The triumph of the nineteenth-century novel, as exemplified by Jane Austen and George Eliot, Dickens and Tolstoy, was to create the illusion of human interaction viewed direct, without undue mediation and manipulation, from a standpoint elevated and detached.
He discusses his early hobby of cartooning which he took up in high school; he soon realized he lacked the talent to rise to the major leagues in this craft and transitioned to writing. Updike was fortunate to find success early with his first novel being published when he was only 26. His Rabbit novels pasted him squarely into the fabric of middle-class, small-town, Presbyterian America by chronicling a typical character from that demographic, Harry (Rabbit) Angstrom, in a quartet of novels, each set ten years apart, detailing the experiences of an Everyman American during the last half of the 20th century.
As the book winds down, he features the many speeches he made when accepting the honours that poured over him after a life of solitary and dedicated writing. He takes the time to reflect on the state of the world, and this final section makes for some great insights, from a man who insists that a writer’s most important asset is not wisdom. I beg to differ.
I highly recommend this book not only to writers but to all those trying to make sense of the last 70 years of life on this planet.
At 928 pages, this is a smorgasbord of writing, collected over the long career of this journeyman writer who insisted that he made his living from this tenuous profession.
To cover the sweep of this book in a review would be Sisyphean, suffice to say that it is centred around the articles he contributed to the New Yorker during his early employ there in the 1950s and his subsequent relationship with the magazine as a freelancer. His role is that of the reviewer, primarily, of books written in the 1990s, of writers from the last century, and of personalities from antiquity. He covers his writing colleagues at the venerable magazine, such as John Cheever and John O’Hara in more than one place, and the two Williamses – Shawn and Maxwell, editors who shaped and nurtured his writing career.
It is his observations on the craft of writing and the life of a writer that stood out for me:
- Writers eye each other with vigorous jealousy and suspicion. They are swift to condemn and dismiss, as a means of keeping the field from getting too crowded.-
- Writing is life and death to writers. An intense competition rages for the pale limelight of literary publicity and for the never-large and presently dwindling body of serious readers.
- The moment when the finished book or, better yet, a tightly packed carton of finished books arrives on my doorstep is the moment of truth, of culmination; its bliss lasts as much as five minutes until the first typographical error or production flaw is noticed.
- The writer’s most important asset is not wisdom or skill but an irrational, often joyous sense of importance attaching to what little he knows; and this is a religious sensation.
- On the Post-Modern Novel: These glimpses of independent personalities, of half-round bubbles allowed to materialize in the turbulent flow of the onrushing monologue, make one aware of how much the postmodern novel has lost in putting aside the objectives of old-fashioned third-person realism.
- The triumph of the nineteenth-century novel, as exemplified by Jane Austen and George Eliot, Dickens and Tolstoy, was to create the illusion of human interaction viewed direct, without undue mediation and manipulation, from a standpoint elevated and detached.
He discusses his early hobby of cartooning which he took up in high school; he soon realized he lacked the talent to rise to the major leagues in this craft and transitioned to writing. Updike was fortunate to find success early with his first novel being published when he was only 26. His Rabbit novels pasted him squarely into the fabric of middle-class, small-town, Presbyterian America by chronicling a typical character from that demographic, Harry (Rabbit) Angstrom, in a quartet of novels, each set ten years apart, detailing the experiences of an Everyman American during the last half of the 20th century.
As the book winds down, he features the many speeches he made when accepting the honours that poured over him after a life of solitary and dedicated writing. He takes the time to reflect on the state of the world, and this final section makes for some great insights, from a man who insists that a writer’s most important asset is not wisdom. I beg to differ.
I highly recommend this book not only to writers but to all those trying to make sense of the last 70 years of life on this planet.
June 18, 2009
I bought this book about five years ago in an Atlanta used book store called The Book Nook. I'd put it off so long because at 856 pages of criticism it seemed such a monumental reading commitment. Having finished it today I'm alternatively kissing my hands and arms for being discerning enough to want to read it and slapping my wrist for waiting so long. I'm an Updike fan, one of what I sometimes feel is a dwindling population. I believe a handful of his novels are astonishingly fine examples of fiction. His short stories are, across the board and the years of his career, exemplary, as good as can be found. But this collection of his critical pieces has reinforced what I'd long suspected, or knew subconsciously, that his criticism is as strong as any being written today. He died recently, and at that time some wrote that he was surpassed in the field only by Edmund Wilson. I believe that. This volume is more than book reviews. It also contains general essays on literature and past masters of fiction, essays on current social issues, comments on film, art, photography, and religion. He even has interesting things to say about lust, a subject dear to everyone. The choice of subject matter veers in an arc wide enough to include the cosmic concerns of Melville and the racial tone of cartoons and cartoon characters of the 1930s. This is a ripe, lush crop of wise writing about literature, art, and culture, and it's studded with a spendid harvest of aphorisms. And, as always, Updike gives us all this in his gorgeous prose style. This is worthwhile reading.
March 25, 2008
Discussing Barthes and his detractors, Updike once said that those who can write brightly about anything generate much ill-will. Witness David Foster Wallace's jibe that Updike "never has an unpublished thought"--as if that's a serious insult when you're talking about a writer. We're lucky to have Updike commenting so profusely. I've had this by my bedside for the last month and am still coming across wonderful bits--most recently his suggesttion that 'Swann's Way' was a signifcant influence on the tone and subject of 'The Age of Innocence.' Huh.
August 20, 2018
A very lengthy and varied edition of his essays. I have not read all of them, but I did go through about a dozen or so. This is a book to be read over time and to come back to. As with all of Updike's non-fiction work, very erudite and plain-spoken. Pieces that came from The New Yorker and elsewhere. Prose that talks to you conversationally over a cup of coffee.
The Nook edition at Barnes & Noble for five dollars was more than worth it.
The Nook edition at Barnes & Noble for five dollars was more than worth it.
March 31, 2020
I found this books about as interesting as Updike's fiction, which is to say, it feels like it treats the reader at arm's length, without developing anything that I would regard as passion. I wanted to discover more about Updike himself, especially what issues were truly important to him. I didn't really get much of that.
Sometimes I think Updike uses a word generator or automated thesaurus when writing. It impresses me in many places and his writing is, without a doubt very polished and often very interesting, but I never found myself doing anything more than nodding or agreeing or shaking my head. I wanted to like this a great deal and, alas, I did not.
Sometimes I think Updike uses a word generator or automated thesaurus when writing. It impresses me in many places and his writing is, without a doubt very polished and often very interesting, but I never found myself doing anything more than nodding or agreeing or shaking my head. I wanted to like this a great deal and, alas, I did not.
March 9, 2026
A monumental collection of essays,book reviews,public addresses,studies and profiles on a myriad of subjects that would keep anyone interested in arts and culture happy for many a year.All interesting and well written.A book to dip into for those who enjoy reading.
May 16, 2017
Witty, lucid, charming...
September 4, 2023
This is a collection of miscellaneous Updike writing during the 1990s, more or less, and like all Updike non-fiction it's filled with perceptive insights and beautiful prose.
June 30, 2007
More Matter is a collection of essays and criticism from the 1990s. The bulk of the text addresses literature, but Updike touches other topics, such as art, movies, and politics.
This doorstop of a book reaches 900 pages with several to spare, but nowhere in this entire tome do I ever feel that Updike is padding his writing, or going through the motions, or falling from his horse Pegasus, losing inspiration and writing mediocre sentences. That just doesn't happen with Updike. Instead, I wonder how he mashed all these wonderful thoughts into fewer than 1,000 pages. One gets the impression he probably left things out, that the book could have been even longer if needed.
What impresses me about Updike is the density of his prose, his unique and imaginative turns of phrase in virtually every paragraph he ever wrote. I've tried writing like Updike myself, but I become exhausted after a few paragraphs. I don’t suppose many writers will ever be accused to mimicking him.
He has something interesting to say about everyone and everything and possesses the knack of uncovering any writer’s weak and strong points. I feel as if he is revealing to me literary secrets no one else has discovered. And I never feel as if he’s wrong, or faking it. No, he hits the bullseye every time.
“I set out to be a magazine writer,” he wrote in the Preface, “a wordsmith...and I like to see my name in what they used to call ‘hard type.’” Updike will be remembered mostly as a writer of novels, but his large corpus of stories, essays, and poems will remind future readers that he was one of the last of the well-rounded literary men who could and did write brilliantly in so many genres.
He never won the Nobel Prize, despite his consensus ranking as one of the most influential and respected literary men of the 20th century. Someone said his industrious production worked against him. A great writer couldn't possibly produce so much, was the prevailing attitude about it. I am wondering now if a handful of celebrated authors didn't write fewer pages in their entire careers than Updike in this single book.
Picking any page at random, I find Updike expounding in a fascinating manner on a topic I had hardly ever considered. All his essays are like that.
This doorstop of a book reaches 900 pages with several to spare, but nowhere in this entire tome do I ever feel that Updike is padding his writing, or going through the motions, or falling from his horse Pegasus, losing inspiration and writing mediocre sentences. That just doesn't happen with Updike. Instead, I wonder how he mashed all these wonderful thoughts into fewer than 1,000 pages. One gets the impression he probably left things out, that the book could have been even longer if needed.
What impresses me about Updike is the density of his prose, his unique and imaginative turns of phrase in virtually every paragraph he ever wrote. I've tried writing like Updike myself, but I become exhausted after a few paragraphs. I don’t suppose many writers will ever be accused to mimicking him.
He has something interesting to say about everyone and everything and possesses the knack of uncovering any writer’s weak and strong points. I feel as if he is revealing to me literary secrets no one else has discovered. And I never feel as if he’s wrong, or faking it. No, he hits the bullseye every time.
“I set out to be a magazine writer,” he wrote in the Preface, “a wordsmith...and I like to see my name in what they used to call ‘hard type.’” Updike will be remembered mostly as a writer of novels, but his large corpus of stories, essays, and poems will remind future readers that he was one of the last of the well-rounded literary men who could and did write brilliantly in so many genres.
He never won the Nobel Prize, despite his consensus ranking as one of the most influential and respected literary men of the 20th century. Someone said his industrious production worked against him. A great writer couldn't possibly produce so much, was the prevailing attitude about it. I am wondering now if a handful of celebrated authors didn't write fewer pages in their entire careers than Updike in this single book.
Picking any page at random, I find Updike expounding in a fascinating manner on a topic I had hardly ever considered. All his essays are like that.
Want to Read
March 18, 2014Note: Mainly read the contemporary book reviews, introductions to special editions of his own books, a few of the personal reflections on books that changed his life (and/or shaped the world), award banquet remarks, and, Cripes, did you know he wrote the beginning and ending to an exquisite corpse for an Amazon.com contest way back when? Well, they're here, too.
January 4, 2018
Try Updike's non-fiction even if you didn't care for his fiction. Start here or with Hugging the Shore.
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews