This is the sequel to Rabbit, Run, written by Updike ten years after that first novel. The protagonist is Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom, and he has also aged ten years since we last saw him. He's fatter, semi-alcoholic, and unfortunately for him, reaping the destructive seeds he sowed a decade ago. There are many characters, all colorful and well-executed by Updike, whose genius is limitless. This is a wild, seedy, tragic, frustrating carousel of a book, a true masterclass in exceptional writing and plotting, and is as twisted and entertaining as any popular television tragi-comedy. The description of suburban 70's American life through the mind and eye of an average sex-crazed, washed-up, morally ambivalent man-child is pitch-perfect and insightful without being preachy or condescending. We are instead brought into Harry's frightening, shabby, impulsive world and asked not to agree but to analyze. You may discover that you know Harry. You may be him, yourself. He is an example of a rotten ethos carried through to its bitter repercussions. People get hurt, in some cases killed, marriages are destroyed, children corrupted, and society itself is put at peril. Updike demonstrates this with wit and muscle, and Arthur Morey gives a fine reading that you will be more than comfortable with after listening to the prequel.

Jon Updike's rabbit Redux is a strange book. Depressing, pointless, the characters are uninteresting and the writing as well, why would I ever want to read this? I met with our book club members last night, a distinguished group, and while some members had read numerous Jon Updike books before, it was generally felt this book has no place in today's world, and was in an odd place, even during the 60s and 70s. This book has no life. The sex scenes are passé and unreal, the characters live a miserable life.