This book is good. It sticks around with you. The underachieving, unhappy young husband. The fussy wife. A flat-footed pregnancy. Flirting with infidelity. Enervated suburbia. Loss. Hopelessness.
My favorite image: the housewife viciously mowing the lawn on a Saturday morning, her hung-over husband watching from the front door.
It quickly reminded me of Rabbit, Run. Updike's book was published in 1960, and Yates' in 1961. I can't help but wonder about a possible connection.
Google is a wonderful thing. Because I don't have to be satisfied with wondering. I can run a search and find an answer from someone much smarter and more well read than myself. Unfortunately, the answer deflates my balloon of the two men drinking scotch and playing pool.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
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