The Maples Stories
John Updike, who died at 76 this past January, has had more books published this year than many writers achieve in a lifetime. This spring, his last story collection, 鈥淢y Father鈥檚 Tears,鈥� followed his last poetry collection, 鈥淓ndpoint.鈥� Both feature elegiac explorations of aging and mortality that he was working on into his final illness.
The Maples Stories, by contrast, gathers together for the first time in hardcover all 18 stories that he wrote between 1956 and the mid-1980s about the strained marriage and protracted, painful divorce of Joan and Richard Maple. All but the last, 鈥淕randparenting,鈥� were collected in a 1979 paperback edition titled 鈥淭oo Far To Go鈥� that tied in with a television adaptation. Thirteen of the stories also appear sprinkled throughout the superb 2003 compendium, 鈥淭he Early Stories: 1953-1975.鈥�
Although there was no urgent need, it鈥檚 nice to have all of the Maples stories repackaged together in a handsome Everyman edition.
These scenes from a marriage encapsulate what many associate with classic Updike: iconic tales such as 鈥淵our Lover Just Called鈥� and 鈥淭he Taste of Metal鈥� set in wealthy New England coastal suburbs where the husband commutes to work while his well-educated, politically engaged wife stays home tending their children, who are largely offstage. Front and center are the neighborhood parties, 鈥渇ishing鈥� expeditions for the extramarital affairs that largely occupy the adults. It鈥檚 all described in luscious, luminous prose.
How have the stories aged? They are painstaking portraits of a bygone era 鈥� the 1960s and 鈥�70s 鈥� yet, because of the particularity of Updike鈥檚 details, they are more than period pieces. Stories such as 鈥淲ife-Wooing鈥� 鈥� in which Richard Maple, eating takeout burgers and fries in front of a fire with his young family, contemplates the effort it takes, seven years into his marriage, to court an exhausted, distracted wife 鈥� capture dynamics between couples that are as true today as when they were written.
That said, it should also be noted that readers are apt to find both Richard Maple鈥檚 and Updike鈥檚 attitude toward women dated and sexist. In 鈥淲ife-Wooing,鈥� for example, he writes insultingly, 鈥淵ou serve me supper as a waitress 鈥� as less than a waitress, for I have known you.鈥� His descriptions of a woman鈥檚 aging hands, so brutal in his last novel, 鈥淭he Widows of Eastwick,鈥� are no less caustic describing Joan鈥檚 hand, 鈥渄istinctly thirtyish, dry and green-veined and rasped by detergents.鈥澛� And when, in 鈥淕esturing,鈥� Richard finally moves into a bachelor apartment in Boston, he鈥檚 in shock over having to prepare his own food and do his own laundry.
Yet one could argue that Updike is so unstintingly honest in his portrayal of Richard that he magnifies his male chauvinism. When Joan, goaded into infidelity, confesses to an affair in 鈥�Eros Rampant,鈥� Richard is clearly more titillated than upset: 鈥� 鈥榊ou whore,鈥� he breathes, enraptured.鈥欌��
However distasteful his characters鈥� behavior, one reads Updike for the elegant precision with which he captures what he called in his 1979 introduction 鈥渢he seesaw of their erotic interest, [which] rarely balances.鈥� He added, 鈥淭he moral of these stories is that all blessings are mixed. Also, that people are incorrigibly themselves.鈥�
In the very first Maple story, 鈥淪nowing in Greenwich Village,鈥� written in 1956, the couple hosts a female friend in their new apartment. Joan, coming down with a cold, 鈥渃leared her throat, scraping Richard鈥檚 heart.鈥� Just two years into their marriage, she can still have that effect on him. Yet when he walks their guest home, he鈥檚 already flirting with infidelity.
Even in their endless discussions about separating, the Maples call each other 鈥淒arley.鈥� Joan says, 鈥淚 hate your ego ... and our sex is lousy, but I鈥檝e never been lonely with you.鈥� Richard, with 鈥渉is sealed heart,鈥� proceeds inexorably toward divorce, freeing him to marry his mistress. His mood is of 鈥減urposeful desolation.鈥�
When the Maples reappear with their new spouses nine years after their divorce for the birth of their first grandchild in 鈥淕randparenting,鈥� Richard, indeed incorrigibly himself, competitively sizes up his 鈥渋nsolently tall鈥� son-in-law and Joan鈥檚 fastidious, uptight husband. Holding his newborn grandson for the first time, he can鈥檛 help noting that his body adheres to him 鈥渕ore weakly than the infants he had presumed to call his own.鈥� It鈥檚 a telling observation, but Updike鈥檚 closing zinger is a prime example of what really separates him from the literary pack and makes these stories worth reading and rereading: 鈥淣obody belongs to us, except in memory.鈥�
Heller McAlpin, a freelance critic in New York, is a frequent Monitor contributor.
