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Having produced so much that is so wonderful, now in his late 70's you begin to wonder whether John Updike still has it in him. His regular short story contributions to The New Yorker are a pleasing palliative, but it is a major work like Seek My Face that completely blows away any unnecessary concerns. John Updike is the best living author, this is one of his best works.
A simple story structure which effortlessly focuses on the New York school, drawing, sketching, fixing, painting and snapping away until we have unfolded a huge detailed canvas on which he has made the whole of the late part of last century for us - from the 9th Street exhibition through Willem de Kooning to the campy excesses of Andy Warhol. No tricks, but beautiful heart-warming prose and an ocean of emotions and experience.
Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant.
1 of 1 people found this review helpful
The regular mentions of time passing brought me out of the flow of the story, but the ending left me reflecting on how life passes, which was worth the stretch.