From the book jacket
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The last words of John Updike, poet
On the haunting jacket photo, Updike is seen pausing on a tree-shaded New England path. A hand in his pocket, a half-smile on his face, he is gazing back at his readers one final time, pausing for a wistful goodbye, lamenting, as in "Spirit of '76," the end of that road he had chosen.
Frank Fitzpatrick is an Inquirer sportswriter and longtime fan of John Updike.
Be with me, words, a little longer; you
have given me my quitclaim in the sun,
sealed shut my adolescent wounds, made light
of grownup troubles, turned to my advantage
what in most lives would be pure deficit,
and formed, of those I loved, more solid ghosts.
Frank Fitzpatrick is an Inquirer sportswriter and longtime fan of John Updike.
