I liken reading John Updike to ordering a salad for lunch. You know it's the right thing to do, the healthy thing to do, the righteous and rewarding thing to do. But really you'd rather be eating a pasta. Rabbit Run is the story of a unlikeable, irresponsible, misogynist called Rabbit who peaked too early in high school as a basketball star and wakes up one day with a toddler and another baby on the way and decides he's not happy. So, like the title suggests, Rabbit runs. He jumps in his car and drives with no map and no plan. Eventually he returns home were he bunks down with a prositute who he projects love on to briefly before returning to his wife as she goes in to labor. I can appreciate that this is classic, quality American fiction and I'm really glad to have read it but I won't be reading the three other books in the series. I just don't care about what ends up happening to Rabbit, and if there's any justice in the world it won't be anything good. Most of the Book Clubbers were disappointed with our first foray in to Updike. I have higher hopes for next month's choice, graphic novel, Maus by Art Spiegelman.
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