Customer Reviews

S.

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

Updike has this amazing ability to turn his hand to anything. There is no distinct Updike style you could ever parody. He just writes amazingly well. He can put himself inside the skin of anyone of of any ethnicity or sex. His tone rends to be satirical but he can be profound. This is one of his most undiluted attempts at out and out comedy.
It is written from the point of view of a very WASP New England lady (one of her ancestors is a Prynne, and her daughter is called Pearl) who deserts her adulterous doctor husband to join a Hindu or Buddhist (I was never quite sure which) commune in Arizona.It's written in the form of the letters and tapes she sends to correspodents back East (her dentist, hairdresser, husband, psychotherapist, daughter,best friend, lawyer, hairdresser's jailed son etc).
She starts off as a naive dupe, but by the end has oth cleverly outsmarted everyone who tried to rip her off and achieved the spiritual development she sought from the fraudulent guru.

Ever since Rabbit, Run, Updike has been attracted to the idea of writing a story that feels as if it is actually happening while it is being read - rather than, as is almost inherent in the form of the novel, communicating an impression of recorded history. By way of attempting to put the idea into practice, Updike has both experimented with present-tense narration (see Leaf Season in Trust Me) and - in S. - given us his take on the venerable (if not antiquated) genre of the epistolary novel. From this point of view the fact that S. is made up solely of letters is an attractive feature of the book: one's sense of anticipation (how will events unfold?) is indeed sharpened. What makes the epistolary form work in this novel is the naturally loquacious and confiding disposition of the protagonist and author of the letters, Sarah Worth (or 'S' as she signs herself to her husband).

Sarah has in fact left her husband and gone to join a religious commune in Arizona. Through her dispatches to various friends, family and acquaintances we follow the fortunes of the community and her role within it through to its surprising (?) conclusion.

The novel has been criticised for its satirical presentation of Buddhism, yoga, etc. in the context of commune life. I'm not sure Updike would accept the charge. In fact I found quite a lot of fair-mindedness in the book - it actually left me with an improved rather than diminished opinion of what Eastern ideas are actually aspiring to - although I don't think Updike can excuse himself from drawing on certain stereotypes. But this is essentially a light, comic novel - although I don't see why it necessarily had to be - and probably shouldn't be taken too seriously.

What I missed most was Updike's typically well-observed dialogue, which in this case is mostly paraphrased in retrospect by the narrator. I had a similar problem with A Month of Sundays, in some ways this book's companion volume. Updike may also have found himself missing this type of writing since half-way through he suspends the strict rules of the epistolary genre and has Sarah include a cassette recording of some tapped conversation in with one of her dispatches. This moment was a welcome relief from her up-till-then uninterrupted monologues, but its breaking the rules of the genre made me wonder about the point of the form in the first place.

Overall he's done it very well, of course, as he does almost everything very well, but I doubt he'll revisit the experiment.

I was very impressed by Updike's ability to create characters that are wholly believable, and to craft a story that is hard to put down -- I read this in a couple of days, and enjoyed it. The protagonist, Sarah, sounds very much like any number of people I've met, down to the fine details -- a difficult stunt to sustain over the length of a novel that is essentially her dictation. And, to be sure, the book is funny, as many have claimed. It is also rather mean spirited, however.

Sarah leaves her husband for a "spiritual" commune or ashram, which Updike modeled on the one established in the 70's by Bhagavan Shri Rajneesh in Oregon. Having lived in a community that bears much similarity to the one portrayed, I can vouche for the accuracy (greatly exaggerated, of course) of the likeness. But although my own experience was no less disappointing than Sarah's, I would have liked to have thought that a writer of Updike's ability and insight would not stoop to getting the usual belly laughs at the expense of all those who have tried to find spiritual growth through Eastern traditions. He seems to have steeped himself deeply in the language and philosophy of Buddhism and Hinduism, but only to lampoon those who are drawn to them. His portrayal is clever, and certainly captures the worst aspects of such endeavors, but it veers towards the most cynical view imaginable -- that those who pursue such traditions and lifestyles are viciously greedy, self-indulgent frauds, and those who steer clear of them to pursue the stock market or whatever are far wiser souls. If you want to wallow in that perspective, this book's for you.

Updike's portrayal of Sarah herself is similarly tainted. She is ultimately revealed as selfish, petty, and grotesquely hypocritical, using her "feminism" as a means to express all her worst qualities. Of course, there's no reason not to have such a character in a novel, but I got the impression that this was Updike's view, if not of all women, than at least of women of a privileged background, or women who leave their husbands but aren't willing to impoverish themselves in the process, or who look for salvation in offbeat ways. (And I'm not any of the above.)

In short, S. is a cheap shot at feminism and all things "new age," but an entertaining one.

S. is the story of Sarah Worth, a New England matron who flees the confines of midcentury feminine affluence to seek spiritual (and sexual) enlightenment in a religious commune. She chronicles her adventure in letters to her best friend, daughter, and estranged husband, as well as short notes to her former dentist and hairdresser, tapes of conversations with the commune's leader, and a selection of the letters she writes on behalf of the commune's business office. The story unfolds briskly and subtely, with Updike employing his satirical skill to show a woman who, in leaving her life behind, manages to take it all with her.

A benefit of the letter format is that it allows a full exploration of the narrator's voice, to excellent effect. It also suppresses Updike's tendency to rely too heavily on his (excellent) descriptive language and instroduces an element of suspense that makes the story quite absorbing.

S. has been criticized by other reviewers for its perceived mockery of Eastern religions, but I don't think this is intended. Updike has obviously done extensive research - if not into Eastern religions themselves, then at least into their Western offshoots - and presents the characters with what, for him, is considerable sympathy. Of course he mocks the narrator's blind devotion to the commune - that's part of what the book is about - but he's mocking the misdirection of her efforts, not the ideals to which she aspires.

The one element of the book that frustrated me was Updike's treatment of his narrator. Sure, it's fun to read a book about an arrogant and slightly hysterical woman who is always just slightly out of her league - a Bridget Jones for our mothers' generation. But it would perhaps be more interesting to watch a character really grow through the course of the novel and transcend, or at least recognize, her own bias. Of course that kind of revelatory change would be anathema to Updike, whose thesis - popping up, appropriately, in book after book - seems to be that life is a cycle, endlessly revolving, lush with beauty and without escape. And this book is - first and foremost, like all his books - Updike.

"S." is the story of a lonely woman named Sarah Worth, trapped in a thankless marriage who one day escapes to an Arizona ashram while not knowing which part of her life to live. Her confusion and angst leads her into a sordid relationship with the village's Arnat (leader), duplicity with the organization's questionable fund-raising, and difficult friendships with her peers in the ashram. I found this to be a very interesting look at the desire of one woman to shed her old skin and begin anew, although at the same time not knowing exactly how to do so. Sarah is sort of a metaphor for trapped women everywhere; confused and comedic, she leaves her old self with reluctance, all the while questioning her decisions. The outcome is accurate to her character, while still mysterious enough so the reader isn't sure if her whole journey was worth it in the first place. The book overall is light reading, but great fluff entertainment nonetheless. Updike is at his comedic best here, while still covering everything in the beautiful, pesudo-technical language that has become his trademark. If you would like to learn more spiritual terminology while getting to know a loveably neurotic character I recommend this book, but not if you want something to really make you think.

After only a few pages, I had to back up and say..."damn, that Updike can write."

Perhaps not Updike's best but so much better than most of the stuff in print that it's worth reading.

I thought Updike really captured the stream-of-consciousness way of speaking of a lot of women (my mom has this tendency). It was hilarious to read about this woman leaving behind all the trivia of everyday life in favor of spiritual enlightenment but still clinging tight to her old world. This was a really good book. Great plot twist at the end.

John Updike does an excellent job changing his style from dark to light with dark undetones in this book. It was so incredibly funny that I laughed out loud while reading it. It is a quick read with some good insights into changing your life for better or worse.

_S_ is a series of letters by Sarah Worth, the wife of a philandering doctor, to her husband, her daughter, her mother, and others. Sarah even sends taped messages to her friend, Midge, not realizing that Midge was less than trust worthy. Sarah is bored with her sterile marriage and plans to seek solace and spiritual renewal in an ashram in Arizona, but discovers that life there is no different from her upper middle class life in New England. The people in the ashram are just as false, belligerent and mercernary as those on the outside. Even the Arhat, the spiritual leader with whom she invests much trust and admiration, and with whom she has an affair, is phony. By the end of the novel, Sarah becomes totally disillusioned.

_S_ is supposed to be a satire on Hawthorne's _The Scarlet Lettet_. Updike alludes to various charaters in _S_ and those in the Hawthorne classic. I suppose that Sarah's "scarlet letter" is the blame she will incur as the villainous wife who deserts her husband. Although Updike's book has some occasional humor, in as much as Sarah's self-discovery is unexpected and somewhat ironic, I found the book replete with with cliched situations and one-dimensional characters, none of whom I particularly cared for. That we read the novel only from Sarah's point of view is not necessarily a bad thing, if only Sarah were not such an insipid character.

Written in the form of letters, Updike in this novel satirizes the excesses of the materialistic world while showing that a woman can overcome these excesses (that she is a part of) and make a totally different life for herself. Sarah Worth divorces her wealthy husband and joins a Hindu ashram in the southwest. In her letters to friends and family she reflects on her past, especially what she had to do (the style rituals, healthy skin potions she lathered herself with, the importance of being her rich husband's trophy wife) as it compares to her simpler life in the ashram.

But all is not rosy there, either, as it too roils in its own hypocrisies as it generally rips off the people who go there. Sarah rises up against this and runs off with their illegal funds. She escapes her naivety, though the townspeople in which the ashram is located are upset with her actions and are still blinded by their gullibility. Updike wrote this novel in response to the charge that he had never written about a "strong" woman. Sarah Worth (ah, the importance of names) is a "worthy" answer to this accusation. This book, as others by Updike, has a strong connection to Hawthorne's SCARLET LETTER.