878 pages (not counting the index)
“What is this shore I hug so repeatedly, with such a squint of guilt? Were not these exercises in appreciation and exposition composed, like anything else, by taking a deep breath, leaning out over the typewriter, and trying to dive a little deeper than the first words that come to mind? Of some I am proud enough, as work completed and self-education achieved. Of none I am ashamed, else I would not have admitted them to my summer-long clerical labor, my mustering of deteriorating tearsheets into the hefty form of this book.”
So goes one of several revealing sections in the excellent foreword to "Hugging the Shore,” a collection of John Updike’s literary criticism. I'm not intelligent enough to make informed comments about a literary critic this well-read, this thoughtful, this insightful; all I can do is read and wonder at how many lifetimes it would take me to attain the heights he has, within the boundaries of thirty years of adulthood.
The best I can do is say that upon reading his takes on the famous writers of the world, I come away having learned about people and books I’ve never heard of before, and feel like I could have spent much of my previous waking life in better, more productive ways. Then again, reading Updike (not to mention Henry James) does that to me- makes me grateful for the profound examples of prose and analysis that John U was born to share with the world.
A brief sampling of this sizeable tome’s content is in order. Pages 3-69 hold a decent intro to Updike’s essays, character sketches and short stories; the rest of the book covers the work of over sixty authors from across the globe.
There are letter collections from Nabokov, Kafka, Flaubert, Colette, Hemingway, E. B. White, and John O’Hara (pages 118-195); from pages 196-836, we are served a banquet of opinions and observations on not only the works but also the lives of Auden, Beattie, Beckett, Bellow, Borges, Burroughs, Calvino, Cheever, DeLillo, Dinesen, Grass, Hawthorne, Joyce, Melville, Murdoch, Naipaul, Stevens, Tyler, Vonnegut, and Walt Whitman, to name a few.
Rounding out the book is an appendix titled “On One’s Own Oeuvre,” a fascinating sampler of John Updike’s forewords, replies to inquiries, messages to readers, and comments to various people about the author’s writings and thoughts on a variety of subjects and concerns (pages 839-878). Following that is a thirty-eight page index, which gives this book the feel of a textbook- a claim rightly deserved, given the scope of Updike’s work.
Updike figures that the material covered in “Hugging the Shore” represents the 34, 869 pages he read and commented on over an eight-year period. The least we can do is take a look at what he came up with.