The Question of Reality vs. Satire

When the witches settle into their new forms of suburban life, I assumed from their reactions to certain events that they must have changed a little themselves, along with their environment. Their initiation into witchcraft hardened their demeanor and stripped them of a certain nature of sensitivity that every woman reluctantly possesses. This is illustrated in the fact that despite the extremely close friendship between the three women, they cheat with eachother's lovers in secret, or, rather, what they think is secret, and none of them take it personally or particularly care at all. They also peacefully 'share' Darryl Van Horne by visiting him both individually and together:
"There entered into Sukie's mind, broadcast from Alexandra's, a picture of a western wooden church with a squat weather-beaten steeple...'Monty was very religious,' Sukie said...And on the same wavelength the image of Monty came to her and she knew at last for certain that he and Alexandra had had an affair. She yawned, and said, 'I think I'll go over to Darryl's and unwind. Fidel is developing some wonderful new concoction he calls a Rum Mystique.' 'Are you sure it isn't Jane's day?'"
The fact that each witch fills only one third, at most, of Van Horne's life never seems to particularly bother any of them, whereas for the typical woman, this reality would eat away under her skin if she was ever crazy enough to agree to such an arrangement.
I found The Witches of Eastwick to be a book that could be interpreted two ways: one can take everything said within its pages literally and embark on an alternative and darkly whimsical excursion into fiction or read all that is written with a healthy skepticism for fantasy and society alike. If the novel is in fact a satire, Alexandra, Jane and Sukie's entrance into the life of witchcraft could represent not an actual acquirement of magical powers, but a cynical nature, and a strong enough bond of friendship that it is capable of allowing the witches to communicate on an almost telepathic level. However, these "witches" could simply be, in truth, witches who agreed to lead their audience on the wild ride of their daily lives.

American Themes

In its own twisted way, The Witches of Eastwick by John Updike is an inverted reflection of the American Dream gone awry. The background behind each "witch"'s character is a relatively ordinary one. They each married their dream prince at a young age, and were soon swept off to suburbia to begin their all-American married life complete with weekly backyard barbeques and bus stop rendezvouses with fellow suburbanite mothers who are dead-set convinced their children are prodigies. However, as usual, this supposed euphoria is not half of what it's cracked up to be. After each witch's husband has dropped out of her life, the three band together and begin a new twisted form of the American Dream that involves conjuring up storms and frequenting a dilapidated mansion, whose resident's intentions concerning the witches are mysteries. The town of Eastwick is communicated as a somewhat sad husk of the bustling excitement of hay days past, and the inhabitants form tight-knit groups reluctant to trust anyone unless they have a good tale about someone else.
Witches also conveys a strong feel of patriarchy and feminine dependence. Throughout the book, the witches' thoughts almost always revolve around men: the past men in their lives, how to get men, insecurities concerning men, and which man to pursue next. My initial reaction to this aspect of the novel was one of deep offense, but when I thought about it again, I realized that The Witches of Eastwick may very well be a satire poking fun at not only women's supposed dependence on men, but also the polished pie-on-the-window image of the American Dream that a majority of today's population still harbors.

Rhetoric Study

"Perhaps minutes passed. Felicia was vehemently talking. His children's vigorous contempt for him had become involved with his criminal willingness to sit in a chair while unjust wars, fascist governments, and profit-greed exploiters ravaged the world. The poker's smooth heft was still in his hand. In its chemical indignation her face had gone white as a skull; her eyes burned like the tiny flames of votive candles deep in the waxy pockets they have hollowed. Her hair seemed to be standing up in a ragged, skimpy halo. Most horribly, things kept coming out of her mouth--parrot feathers, dead wasps, bits of eggshell all mixed in an unstoppable thin gruel she kept wiping from her chin in a rythmic gesture like cocking a gun. He saw these extrusions as a sign; this woman was possessed, she bore no relation to the woman he in good faith had married. "Hey come on, Lishy," Clyde begged, "let's cool it. Let's call it a day." The chemical and mechanical action that had replaced her soul surged on; in her trance of indignation she had ceased to see and hear. Her voice would wake the neighbors. Her voice was growing louder, fed inexhaustibly from within. His drink was in his left hand; he lifted the poker in his right and slashed it down across her head, just to interrupt the flow of energy for a moment, to plug the hole through which too much was pouring. The bone of her skull gave off a surprising high-pitched noise, as if two blocks of wood had been playfully knocked together. Her eyeballs rolled upward, displaying their whites, and her lips parted involuntarily, showing on her tongue an impossibly blue small feather. He knew he was making a mistake but the silence felt heaven sent. His own chemicals took over; he his her head with the poker again and again, pursuing it in its slow fall to the floor, until the sound the blows made was more liquid than that of wood knocking wood. He had plugged this hole in cosmic peace forever." [pg 147-148]

By the end of this passage, the reader is surprisingly sympathetic to Clyde despite the monstrous crime that he has just committed. In order to give this effect, Updike uses strong verbs and adjectives when describing all aspects of the offending party: in this case, it is Felicia while in the midst of her rant. The author also brilliantly manages to maintain a tone with a detached and dream-like quality in spite of his generous use of sharp, overly strong and clear cut words describing the actions of Felicia. This seemingly impossible combination of literary methods is immediately demonstrated in the first three sentences of the passage:
"Perhaps minutes passed. Felicia was vehemently talking. His children's vigorous contempt for him had become involved with his criminal willingness to sit in a chair while unjust wars, fascist governments, and profit-greedy exploiters ravaged the world."
Updike begins the paragraph with the word 'perhaps' referring to the passage of time to communicate to his audience this feeling of such dream-like unawareness that is settling around Clyde. He has learned to tune out and become so detached that he no longer even notices the passage of time.
The use of the word 'vehemently' to describe Felicia's manner of speaking automatically puts her in the bad light of the reader's mind, which causes the audience to be unsympathetic toward her and able to relate to him right off the bat. Updike goes on to further tarnish Felicia's image by delving into the angry ludiocrity of Felicia's fury driven words through word for word description. The strength of the phrase 'vigorous contempt' when Felicia describes their children's feelings about Clyde directly illustrates the absurdity of her argument and leads to the conclusion that she must be so angry that she has lost all logical control and is sputtering out whatever damaging accusations she can conjure, regardless of their factuality. Updike continues his sentence to describe how Felicia then moves her attack to a much broader spectrum, including blame for a portion of the world's everyday crises.
The list-like structure and casual nature of the rapid shift from Felicia's accusations concerning family problems to worldly concerns shown in this third sentence give the impression that she no longer even cares about her argument at all, she is simply finding someone to yell at in her husband. This sentence also manages to hint that Clyde has seen this all before, if not on frequent nightly occasions.
Ironically, the author fails to state what exactly Clyde did to bring on this torrent of spear-headed words besides simply sitting in his chair. This builds up even more sympathy in the audience for Clyde and further breaks down any compassion the reader had for Felicia.
Updike continues to build sympathy in the audience towards Clyde and animosity towards Felicia by furthering his image as the victim and cultivating her image as the borderline uncivilized attacker. Words and phrases such as "begged", "chemical and mechanical action" and "surged on" make Clyde out to be a hapless victim pleading form peace from a merciless and methodical machine that has replaced Felicia.
When Clyde finally does the deed, the author begins using words and phrases like "chemicals took over", "surprising" and "playfully knocked together" to capitalize on Clyde's true innocence, despite his crime. The use of words such as these accompanied with the foggy, dream-like tone convey the message that Clyde is not completely conscious of what he is doing. His soul is somewhere else while long suppressed instincts take over.
The extent of Felicia's reign of torture over her husband is concluded when she falls to the floor, lifeless, and Clyde "had plugged this hole in cosmic peace forever." By the end of the passage, the reader is with him.

Comparison with Scarlet Letter

John Updike, similar to Hawthorne, communicates the general personality of his characters to his readers by narrating their thoughts and setting a majority of scenes from the point of view of each different character. By seeing things from inside each of the characters' unique brains, the reader becomes very well acquainted with every one of them. One of the many examples of this is during the witches' weekly meetings, in which they convene to hear all the new gossip and cackle about their lovers' wives.
"She [Alexandra] was jealous of this man, that the very shadow of him should so excite her two friends, who on other Thursdays were excited simply by her, her regally lazy powers stretching there like a cat's power to cease purring and kill." [pg 33]
By granting a glimpse of not only the event itself, but also how exactly the character of Alexandra sees it, yet another facet of Alexandra's personality is revealed. This allows the reader to make further conclusions about Alexandra based on this new information while also giving the possibility of changing the audience's former musings about her before.
In his novel The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne does something similar with his characters. This is demonstrated when Pearl is formally introduced to the reader, who not only sees Pearl as society does, the audience also discovers the doubtful and uneasy nature with which Hester sees her mysterious and unpredictable daughter.
"Her nature appeared to possess depth, too as well as variety; but--or else Hester's fears deceived her--it lacked the reference and adaptation to the world into which she was born. The child could not be made amenable to rules...Hester could only account for the child's character--and even then most vaguely and imperfectly--by recalling what she herself had been, during that momentous period...The mother's impassioned state had been the medium through which were transmitted to the uborn infant the rays of its moral life; and however white and clear originally, they had taken the deep stains of crimson and gold, the fiery lustre, the black shadow, and the untempered light of the intervening substance. Above all, the warfare of Hester's spirit, at that epoch, was perpetuated in Pearl." [pg 83]
While from outer appearance, the Puritan society may see Pearl as simply a disobedient child who needed a square dose of discipline. However to Hester, as the reader discovers through this passage, Pearl is an almost threatening reminder of her sin as well as an uncontrollable surreal being whose actions can never be predicted.

Character Study

Alexandra:
A self conscious mother, Alexandra makes her living by constructing small and quaint figurines modeling her full figure that she is unable to appreciate. "Her figurines were...dubbed her "bubbies"--chunky female bodies four or five inches long, often faceless and without feet, coiled or bent in recumbent positions and heavier than expected when held in the hand."[pg 19]
She is also very paranoid about getting cancer and is very conscious of her age, although she rarely vocalizes her worries. "Her poor insides: she was sure one day she'd have an operation, and they'd open it all too late, just crawling with black cancer cells. Except they probably weren't black but a brighter red, and shiny, like cauliflower of a bloody sort."[pg 122]

Jane:
Jane is sharp-witted and seemingly the oldest of the three, and very comfortable with her age. She plays the cello, a talent which Van Horne capitalizes on to get on her good side. She is Somewhat shrewd and judgemental of people, but she is soft-hearted towards her friends. "'She [Felicia] is a ridiculous and vapid woman'...'She was full of hate, darling. It was the hatecoming out of her mouth that did her in, not a few harmless feathers and pins. She had lost touch with her womanhood...She needed to be beaten, Clyde was right about that, he just went at it too hard.'"

Sukie:
Naturally thin and lithe, Sukie has few thoughts on the improvement of her body. Full of nervous but benevolent energy, Sukie participates in a number of committees and organizations. "Her weight was not among Sukie's worries: all that nervous energy, it burned everything up."[pg 129]

Darryl Van Horne:
The mysterious pursuit of all three witches, Darryl Van Horne seems to hold the attraction of the three main characters despite their less than flattering descriptions of him. "...a bearish dark man with greasy curly hair half-hiding his ears and clumped at the back so that his head from the side looked like a beer mug with a monstrously thick handle."[pg 34]
"When he spoke, his voice resounded in a way that did not quite go with the movements of his jaw, and this impression of an artificial element somewhere in his speech apparatus was reinforced by the strange slipping, patched-together impression his features made and by the excess of spittle he produced when he talked, so that he occasionally paused to wipe his coatsleeve roughly across the corners of his mouth." [pg 35]
Yet with this revealing and seemingly undesirable mental portrait of him, Van Horne manages to drive a wedge between the three friends by making them compete for his...shall we say, affection: "'Well,' Alexandra sighed, 'he's challenging us. He's stretching us.' Over the phone she did sound stretched--more diffuse and distant...A pause occurred, where in the old days they could hardly stop talking. Now each woman had her share, her third, of Van Horne to be secretive about, their solitary undiscussed visits..." [pg162]

Felicia:
Clyde's wife, Felicia was once a peppy youthful girl. While age has done little to her looks, it has completely ransacked and mutated her demeanor. Once energetic, Felicia now constantly takes out all of her stress energy in rants against Clyde. "Felicia had never outgrown the presumingness of a pretty and vivacious high-school girl...When she had been in high-school girl she had had shining round eyes, but now her face, without growing fat, with every year was pressing in upon these lamps of her soul; her eyes had become piggy, with a vengful piggy glitter." [pg 124...127]

Clyde:
Editor of the paper, Clyde is Sukie's boss and Felicia's husband. He is a habitual drinker, and as he approaches the end of his life he begins to make blacking out due to alcohol a part of his daily routine, mainly just to avoid his wife. "Alexandra believed that nature, the physical world, was a happy thing. This huddling man, this dog-skin of warm bones, did not believe that. The world for him had been rendered tasteless as paper, composed as it was of inconsequent messy events that flickered across his desk on their way to the moldering back files." [pg 139]

Pictures and Reactions

When Alexandra is recalling her former husband, now turned to multicolored dust in a jar, the first thought that came to mind for me personally was a jar full of layers of colored sand. I found this ironic because colored sand is always associated with childhood: innocence and the unadulterated joy of the carnival from which one traditionally makes jars of layered sand.
"By the time of their actual divorce her former lord and master had become mere dirt...some polychrome dust she swept up and kept in a jar as a souvenir."[pg 9]
I wonder if Updike planted this image on purpose to give the impression that Alexandra considered the men she went through as nothing more than playthings, and the termination of their lives meant nothing to her besides adding a new colorful jar to her archive.






























The first of these pictures is how I pictured the beach that Jane visited as Updike was just starting to describe it. The book has a greyish and gloomy tint that requires the author to use vividly colorful and cheery adjectives to break the dark tone and create an image that doesn't look like it's covered in soot. However once Updike made a conscious attempt to describe the day as "warm...[with] old cars and VW vans with psychedelic stripes fill[ing] the narrow parking lot...and many young people wearing bathing suits [lying] supine on the sand with their radios as if summer and youth would never end"[pg 24], I pictured a far less depressing beach. That is, until he went into more detail about the trash scattered everywhere on the beach:
"...high tide, which had also left above the flat sand beside the sea a wrack of Clorox bottles and tampon sleeves and beer cans so long afloat their painted labels had been eaten away..."[pg 24]
This vivid depiction is where I got the second picture.






I got the feeling the East Beach mansion will play an important role in the characters' ensuing lives as the book continues. Its extensive description never failed in its intention of depicting the building as a delapidated one with a mysterious yet dignified past, with the possibility of a few skeletons being shoved hastily in the closet and potentially unsightly dust quickly being swept under the rug.
"The house had a forbidding, symmetrical face, and the chimneys needed mortar and were dropping bricks. Yet the silhouette the mansion presented from afar was still rather chasteningly grand..."[pg 22]
After reading this concluding sentence of Updike's portrayal of the mansion, I was left with an image in my head quite similar to this one.

Suspicion

Before he is even formally introduced, the character of "the man with the hairy backs to his hands" is surrounded in intrigue. In an already ambiguous beginning, the characters' curiosity about this newcomer shrouded in mystery builds the reader's interest to a paramount. The man is an inventor, has no wife or family, and owns what seems to be an unnecessarily sizeable number of pianos. While his name escapes Jane when Alexandra inquires, she does remember that his name has a "''van', 'von', or 'de' in it'"[pg 7]. Which gives the inevitable impression that this man is one of old money, and though the audience may not admit it, the thought of the possibility that this new character could be a vampire crosses the mind.
He is a descendant of the once grand and influential Lenox family that has dimished to a sparse, unknown and somewhat depressed rag tag of straggling leftover progeny. The generation of the Lenoxes elder to him consists only of a widow by the name of Abigail who is serving out the rest of her miserable existence in Eastwick. Among children, she has the ironic reputation of a witch and she "[goes] about the lanes muttering and cringing from the pebbles thrown at her by children who, called to account by the local constable, claim they are defending themselves against her evil eye".[pg 19]

Not only do the remnants of the Lenox family itself possess an eerie and haunted air, their former residence, the East Beach Mansion, is described in a manner that sketches it in the reader's mind as a dangerously delapidated building that has been "slipping into disrepair since the early 1920s"[pg 21]. The mansion in many ways mirrors the family itself, once luxurious and admired, only to decline into nothing more than a cold and drafty foundation. Updike encourages the cultivation of this image by using contradicting extravagant and gloomy adjectives to contrast the mansion's formerly glamourous state with its current decrepitude:

"The great roof slates, some reddish and some bluish gray, came crashing unobserved in the winter storms and lay like nameless tombstones in summer's lank tangle of uncut grass; the cunningly fashioned copper gutters and flashing turned green and rotten; the ornate octagonal cupola with a view to all points of the compass developed a list to the west; the massive end chimneys, articulated like bumdles of organ pipes or thickly muscled throats, needed mortar and were dropping bricks." [pg 22]
The deteriorated glory of both the Lenox family and the East Beach mansion add to their overall feel of gloomy hauntings and eerie suspicion. The reader can't decide if this new man in the witches' lives is going to be a friend or foe.