Updike's The Centaur: First look
November 09, 2009 - by Dean GarnerSaturday evening I had dinner and book discussion at my house with Adelphi University Honors College alumni. Our book for the evening, John Updike's The Centaur.
Next week I'll be discussing the same book, also in my home, with current Honors students. So I don't want to lay out much of my specific reading until next week after that discussion. But I do have some thoughts about literary criticism that apply not only to this book but--as I approach artistic creation--to every book, painting, building, and musical composition I encounter.
My first assumption is always that the creator--author, composer, painter, etc.--is better at this than I am. Second, I assume that the creator wanted to do an admirable job and tried to realize that desire successfully. In addition to these two assumptions I know for a fact that the creator spent more time in the creation than I will in the consumption, even if I read the book several times or listen to the piece over and over, or stare at the painting so long that the museum staff may start to get concerned...
Armed with these thoughts, I try to understand what is great and beautiful about the work I'm engaged with. Some aspects of the work may strike me first as strange, or unsuccessful or partially successful or incomprehensible. But rather than accept my reaction as an acceptable evaluation, I tell myself, "But the artist must have had something in mind, something to which great effort was devoted--effort aided by talent, skill, inspiration. So how does this work? How can I 'read' this element as something beautiful or effective?"
Now I know not everything created is perfectly created. And some works are better than others. But this approach usually produces very satisfying results. The harder I work to appreciate the work, the more I see there, the more I understand how it works. This may seem terribly obvious. But when I read professional book reviews, articles, and books, I often find critics complaining about one aspect or another which a more complex reading could account for as artistically successful. I admit that there is a danger of over-interpretation or fanciful interpretation in this approach. But if I had to bet money on whether:
a) I'm getting more out of the work than the artist put in
or
b) The artist put more in than I'm able to get out--
I'd put my money on b) every time. I might lose the bet sometimes, but I feel I'd be bound to come out a lot richer in the long run.
So my approach to The Centaur is to try and understand how whatever might seem superficial or flashy is really deeply successful. And my feeling is that Updike's success is indeed profound. In what ways? Read my blog Wed. Nov. 18.
Posted by Tom Westerman on November 09, 2009 at 11:28 AM EST #
Posted by Molly Mann on November 12, 2009 at 10:53 AM EST #