Updike Looks Toward the End

John Updike has been publishing works of fiction, poetry, and essays since 1958. By any measure, he must rank near the top of America's greatest living writers. His latest novel, Toward the End of Time (Knopf, $25) may not rank among his best. But even less than a masterpiece from Updike provides special pleasures.

I became enchanted with Updike's writing upon publication of in 1960. The saga of Rabbit Angstrom, basketball star and tortured individual, continued with three additional novels, Rabbit Redux (1971), Rabbit is Rich (1981), and the magnificent Rabbit at Rest (1990). The latter is one of the major achievements of fiction in this century. Had Updike written nothing else, that stunning novel would secure his credentials as one of the century's best writers.

The new book, inexplicably the target of several vicious reviews, is narrated by the irascible Ben Turnbull, who at 66 confronts the uncomfortable fact that his life hurtles the downward slide. The year is 2020 (this marks Updike's first venture into futuristic storytelling, although the novel hardly could be labeled science fiction in the normally accepted definition). The United States struggles to recover from a war with China that included use of nuclear weapons. Ben, a retired investment counselor, and his second wife Gloria live in a mansion near Boston, relatively untouched by the conflagration of the recent conflict.

Bombs have left only remnants of a federal government. There's a return to the primitive in many ways, including the frightening hoodlums who "protect" Turnbull and many of his neighbors through imposition of stiff monthly fees. Calling the local police for help is folly: Turnbull fails to break past the voice mail messages, even when dialing 911.

Gloria, upset by a deer who eats shrubery around their home, demands that Ben take action. Soon, she disappears and he assumes she has died, although he has no memory of such an event. The deer in question seems to have metamorphosed into Deirdre, a beautiful young prostitute who moves in with Turnbull. The vixenish Deirdre serves his sexual needs, explicitedly detailed by Updike, although Ben doesn't trust her. His growing sense of his own mortality has dampened his ardor.

Suddenly, Deirdre walks out, taking a few of Ben's household items with her. Just as quickly Gloria returns, to Ben's surprise and he learns she's been on a trip. Confused, Ben accepts her return and they resume their war, each hoping for the other's death while demonstrating utmost kindness and civility. Updike always has been a master of the war between the sexes, and these scenes crackle with tension and humor.

The men "protecting" Ben's property suddenly vanish, replaced by adolescents who construct a ramshackle hut on Turnbull's property. One of these intruders is Doreen, barely into her teens and the object of Turnbull's diminishing lust.

Several critics (the acerbic Michiko Kakutani in The New York Times and a cantankerous Sven Birkerts in The Washington Post) have assailed the Turnbull character as "a pathetic human being" (Birkerts) and "narcissistic and dirty-minded old man -- self-absorbed, bitter and malicious" (Kakutani).

James Yerkes, who teaches religion and philosophy at Moravian College, says "This novel is Updike focusing on the dilemmas of our experience of the natural world in a way not seen since his brilliant early work, 'The Centaur.'" Yerkes notes that the novel may not be penetrable in one reading. "But the effort of a second look pays off handsomely (in pondering) the modern mysteries of the metaphysical."

I side with novelist Margaret Atwood who calls the book "another excellently written novel by an excellent novelist." Toward the End of Time creates a memorable protagonist in Turnbull, who possesses all of the troubling attributes that some critics complain about, yet remains admirable even in his worst moments because of his determination, his brave and steely directness, his varied faces as the lusting old man, the tender and loving grandfather, and a rabid golfer. In the final 100 pages, Turnbull finds his body failing him, eventually his prostate cancer putting him in diapers. Updike doesn't gloss over the details, which could create problems for the squeamish reader.

There are many gorgeous passages about nature, paragraphs of such great beauty that one reader (me) kept insisting on reading them aloud to his wife. Updike's writing can be stunning in its mastery of the English language, and there are frequent demonstrations here that he seldom can be excelled for the ability to create descriptions of reverbrative power.

For younger readers, Turnbull's musings on life may appear self-centered and sexist. His powerful sexual appeties tend to give him a warped sense of the opposite gender. At times his libido overwhelms any notion of love or even recognition of women as equal in talent or stature. But Turnbull nevertheless remains a fascinating individual, caught up in the storm of the times and handling difficult situations as best as he can while being confronted by shattering changes in his surroundings and the gradual disintegration of his physical self. The specter of Death looms large throughout "Toward the End of Time," yet this isn't a depressing work, but another compelling piece of literature from a treasured writer.

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