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<text id=94TT0193>
<title>
Feb. 14, 1994: The Arts & Media:Books
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1994
Feb. 14, 1994 Are Men Really That Bad?
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
THE ARTS & MEDIA, Page 73
Books
Warning: The Rabbit Is Loose
</hdr>
<body>
<p>Updike imagines Tristan in Brazil and catches jungle fever
</p>
<p>By R.Z. Sheppard
</p>
<p> Who is that gray-haired gringo acting up on top of the carnival
float?
</p>
<p> You mean the one decked out in medieval myth, gorgeous metaphors
and a devilish grin? That's John Updike, the North American
writer who usually makes his living turning out fiction about
the lust-lives of New England palefaces.
</p>
<p> What is he doing in Rio de Janeiro? To judge from the antics
in his latest novel, Brazil (Knopf; 260 pages; $23), he seems
to be having the sort of good time that not everyone will appreciate.
</p>
<p> Like a Shriner with a water pistol? Something like that. Even
writers have to get out of the house once in a while. The last
time Updike cut loose abroad was about 15 years ago, when he
used an African setting for The Coup. Now he retells the Tristan
and Isolde legend as a love story about a black teenage mugger
from the hillside slums of Rio and an upper-class white girl
with a hunger for forbidden experience.
</p>
<p> Finding taboos in Brazil is not easy. How many can be left in
a country where homeless children are hunted by death squads?
White skins still lord it over black skins, but, unlike North
Americans, Brazilians have a working concept of interracial
society. "All colors merge into one joyous, sun-stunned flesh-color,
coating the sand with a second living skin," writes Updike of
Copacabana, the beach where Tristao meets Isabel. In a gesture
of courtly love, he presents her with a ring stripped from the
finger of a matronly tourist. The initials on the crest are
DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution?). Tristao reads that
as "to give."
</p>
<p> This is the kind of multilingual humor practiced by Vladimir
Nabokov, except that he would have let the reader make the translation.
Subtlety is not Updike's intention. Tristao and Isabel may be
descended from ancient legend, but they owe much of their character
to Monty Python and those old underground comic books in which
Popeye and Olive Oyl assumed positions not found in the funny
papers.
</p>
<p> For those who prefer to think in post-modern terms, Brazil offers
the high and the low, especially when it merges the ideals of
romantic love with a perpetual state of rut. The results include
"the muck of the psyche," where "sex is nature's dirty work"
and "perversity, like chastity, overcomes the bestial drive."
The couple's caves of love take many forms: the leafy median
of a busy highway, glittering condominium apartments, primitive
gold-mining camps and the floor of the Amazon. The sacred and
the profane are part of the same ooze. Lyricism mingles with
basic Anglo-Saxon in much the way that liberated clergymen in
the 1960s flavored their moralism with four-letter words.
</p>
<p> Verbally randy Updike also blends styles: realism with surrealism,
and journalism with sentimentalism. Some of the best parts are
simply missionary-position travel writing. But stabs at social
and cultural commentary frequently sound like V.S. Naipaul on
a slow day.
</p>
<p> As a future dead white male, Updike makes mischief with a changing
world that unsettles his sensibilities and excites his imagination.
In a spasm of Latin American magic realism, he turns Isabel
into a black lesbian and Tristao into a white businessman. A
tirelessly inventive tour de force, this off-color romance may
not add much to Updike's stature as a man of letters, but it
is a spectacular example of what happens when a writer with
talent to burn burns it.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>