The Reverend Thomas Marshfield (a man of God whose precipitous fall from grace into a state of doubt has landed him on uncertain moral ground) has been expelled from his parish for misdemeanors of a libidinous nature. His bishop has sent him into the desert, to a retreat: a facility for wayward clergymen where inmates reflect on what they’ve done and seek spiritual renewal. Over the course of his month-long banishment, Tom composes a confessional journal in 31 daily sections recounting his (mostly sexual) transgressions, often in graphic detail, sparing himself (and the reader) nothing. Paradoxically, religion is banned at the facility. No bibles are allowed. There is to be no discussion of religious doctrine and no masses celebrated. Each day, once Tom completes the self-flagellation of his morning journal entry, lunch is served and then the fallen engage in mandatory recreation, in the form of golf, poker and drinking. What we learn about Tom from his journal: he has grown apart from his wife Jane and though she still possesses her youthful good-looks, his appreciation is aesthetic rather than physical and he cannot make love to her; however, he is profoundly attracted to Alicia, the organist at his church, and over many months the two have engaged in frolicsome sexual relations. Tom’s big problem is that Alicia has grown weary of him and his attentions, and to satisfy his indefatigable urges Tom has been compelled to embark on an affair with another of his female (and married) parishioners. Tom, though practiced in the art of deception, is impulsive and not particularly cautious, and he is disgraced when his indiscretions come to the attention of precisely those he would prefer to keep in the dark. Tom’s ravenous sexual appetite provides a fertile (play)ground for John Updike, and this rollicking, uninhibited narrative is abounding with puns, lengthy meandering metaphors, and all manner of philosophical, theological and golf-related digressions, all of which showcase the author’s quick wit, limitless erudition and astonishing vocabulary. Tom addresses his desert journal to Ms Prynne, the facility’s forbidding director, and when he begins to suspect that she’s sneaking into his room and reading it, the remarks he directs toward her grow suggestive and explicit. In the end, Tom proves incurable as well as incorrigible. The book is very much a product of its time, a by-product of the Women’s Liberation and Sexual Revolution social movements of the 1960s and 1970s. We don’t necessarily like him, but Tom’s obsession with sexual prowess, his blindness to women as anything other than sexual objects, and his puerile bouts of sexual jealousy make him an archetypal Updike protagonist. ( )

One of Updike's two best books, according to the author, or three, according to yours truly.
The other favorite son of Updike tells his teacher father's story in The Centaur.
This one chooses as protagonist that icon of American culture--but not of American lit--the protestant preacher. Updike is no slouch, to use the theological term for it. He has done his
theological homework, fills his book with ironies of free will and predetermination, democracy and authority, sexual ennui and community existentialism.
As the Centaur may be the best American novel on education, this may be the best on religion,
though Bellow has a few rivals, from Mr Sammler to Ravelstein and the Dean's December on education
particularly. ( )

The concept is brilliant and one I was excited to read: a reverend who is addicted to sexual encounters with everyone but his wife.

The vocabulary was brilliant: too much so.

The pacing was brilliant: it blinded me at times with changes.

Too much brilliance can sometimes be a challenge. ( )

I selected this for my "U" choice for A-to-Z Authors group and had started (but paused) reading it before John Updike died. Once he died, I forced myself to keep reading this book just so I could check it off my list. I don't think the description did an adequate job of describing what the book would actually be about, and I found it hard to follow. Perhaps that's because Updike's vocabulary is so extensive...I probably should have read it along with a dictionary. There were some chapters that captivated me -- particularly the description of being in the desert. Since I live in Arizona and have resisted the desert for most of my life, this part touched me. It reminded me of reading Abbey's Desert Solitaire in college, after a years-long debate with a high school friend over whether the desert can be peaceful. I conceded the argument after reading Abbey's book, and Updike's section on desert wonders confirms that decision. ( )

Funny.