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.