[Peter Pallotta]

I thought this excerpt from John Updike might please others as much as it did me.  He's writing here on why he prefers not to take a caddie:

"My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together with silent inward prayers, exhortations and unstable visualizations, that the sheer pressure of an additional pair of eyes crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble.  'What is the caddie thinking' keeps running through my mind, to the exclusion of all else...Imagine writing a poem with a sweating, worried-looking boy handing you a different pencil at the end of every word. My golf, you may say, is no poem; nevertheless, I keep wanting it to be one."

But goodness, how one word here and there can make a phrase sing. I've read that passage 3 or 4 times now, and am still marvelling at how he uses the language with absolute economy and clarity, but yet with twirls of invention and the filigree of needlepoint. 

And in that great writing, I think he somehow captures the secret of great golf course architecture too.

Peter 

[Bill_McBride]

The 'tenuously wired together' bit reminds me a lot of another good writer but not in Updike's league - George Plimpton.  His description of his golfer-self as a robotic character directed by some Japanese admirals in dress whites up in the conning tower of the mind sending orders down to the drunken Irishmen operating the machinery down below in the boiler room.  The Irishmen drink and chortle and Plimpton shanks another one.  This is all from "The Bogey Man," must reading in my opinion.

I need to get into the New Yorker hard drive and find some of those Updike golf stories, I think that's where they were mostly published.

[JMorgan]

"Description is praise."

And to be as passionately precise, in describing, as possible ...


A video summation:

http://www.charlierose.com/view/interview/10056

[Rob Rigg]

Peter,

Well posted - when I read the article that was one passage that really stood out to me because it is so beautifully written - and reminded me of my early caddying days because it is so accurate!

[Ronald Montesano]

Don't undervalue what Updike produced.  "Good writing" is decent, not exemplary.  Updike's spirit and word bank were so hyper-developed that his writing sailed far beyond simple, good writing.  Some writers we read and we say, I could imagine having written that.  We do not feel that way with Updike.  Instead, we feel privileged to have somehow gained access to his production and we wish that we could describe ourselves in such a way.  The current golf writer that I feel best produces in a similar fashion is Tom Chiarella.

[Philip Gawith]

Bill - surely all Updikes golf writings are captured in Golf Dreams? Or did he write much besides?

Ronald - where do Tom Chiarella's musings appear?

[Dan Kelly]

And in that great writing, I think he somehow captures the secret of great golf course architecture too.

Peter --

Care to put some meat on that "somehow," somehow?

Dan

[Ronald Montesano]

Chiarella has a book called Thursday's Game.  He also writes for Golf Styles magazines (the broken-up version of Washington Golf Monthly.)

[Peter Pallotta]

Dan -

It struck me that Mr. Updike somehow manages to combine a pared-down simplicity, economy and balance with bright flourishes of rhetoric and grandstanding inventiveness. (I don't know how he does it.)   And when a golf course design is grounded in (and proudly showcases) a wonderful site and its natural features while also startling us with wildly contoured greens and boldly eye-catching bunkering all seamlessly integrated into the whole, I think the golf architect has there achieved something quite analogous. Then, like Updike, the architect has a voice that resides in/emerges from a classical tradition but that at the same time re-visits and transcends the tradition in a unique/individualistic way. In this, Mr. Updike --like the great architects -- strikes me as the rare combination of seasoned craftsman and consummate artist.     

Peter

[Dan Kelly]

Dan -

It struck me that Mr. Updike somehow manages to combine a pared-down simplicity, economy and balance with bright flourishes of rhetoric and grandstanding inventiveness. (I don't know how he does it.)   And when a golf course design is grounded in (and proudly showcases) a wonderful site and its natural features while also startling us with wildly contoured greens and boldly eye-catching bunkering all seamlessly integrated into the whole, I think the golf architect has there achieved something quite analogous. Then, like Updike, the architect has a voice that resides in/emerges from a classical tradition but that at the same time re-visits and transcends the tradition in a unique/individualistic way. In this, Mr. Updike --like the great architects -- strikes me as the rare combination of seasoned craftsman and consummate artist.     

Peter

Peter --

Thanks. Interesting. I think Updike would have been pleased -- even, maybe, charmed -- by your analogy.

I don't recall his writing much about golf courses. He wrote a lot about the game -- but did he ever write anything substantial about courses?

Not that it matters much (if at all), but I think of writers (even Updike) and golf course architects (even ... your favorite architect) as craftsmen much more than as artists.

But perhaps artistry is nothing more than extreme craftsmanship. Eh?

Dan

[Rich Goodale]

Peter

Reading that passage a few more times I think Updike should have stopped after his first sentence.  A delicious image spoiled by a needless need to elaborate.

I am also intrigued by his use of the word "poet" rather than "novelist" or even "writer" as he loses his way (literally and metaphorically).  Is he not perhaps revealing his own uncertainty about his writing abilities, as I believe he focused on prose after only achieving relative mediocrity as a poet?

Thanks for the thread.

Rich

[George Pazin]

Peter

Reading that passage a few more times I think Updike should have stopped after his first sentence.  A delicious image spoiled by a needless need to elaborate.

This will frighten Rich, but the first time I read the passage I thought the same thing.

But Rich will now be relieved to learn that I have changed my mind (and not because he agreed with me). I think the ensuing words expand and enrich on the initial passage, they don't simply repeat and rehash.

Can't comment on the poetry aspect, I think I'm still on a double secret probation from ever commenting on poetry, dating back to high school.

[Rich Goodale]

George

You always agree with me until that awkward little voice in your head says NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Go with the flow, Buckaroo....

Rich

[George Pazin]

  I sometimes wonder how Matt got in there...

[Dan Kelly]

Reading that passage a few more times I think Updike should have stopped after his first sentence.  A delicious image spoiled by a needless need to elaborate.

Rich --

Disagree emphatically.

Here's the passage, again: "My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together with silent inward prayers, exhortations and unstable visualizations, that the sheer pressure of an additional pair of eyes crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble.  'What is the caddie thinking' keeps running through my mind, to the exclusion of all else...Imagine writing a poem with a sweating, worried-looking boy handing you a different pencil at the end of every word. My golf, you may say, is no poem; nevertheless, I keep wanting it to be one."

The "sweating, worried-looking boy" handing him pencils makes the whole passage rise, well, ABOVE the "poetry" of the first sentence, as it grounds it here on earth.

By the way, I am vain enough to think I could improve that first, poetic sentence.

Had I been Updike's editor, I'd have said: "Don't you think, John, it would be better this way: 'My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together [DELE: with silent inward prayers, exhortations and unstable visualizations], that the [DELE: sheer] pressure of [SUB "just two more eyes on it" for "an additional pair of eyes"] crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble'?"

Thus: "My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together, that the pressure of just two more eyes on it crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble."

Better? I think so. Still poetic, but much more efficient.

As for your "Why 'poet'?" question: I don't think he's revealing anything about his self-assessment as a writer. He wrote poetry from beginning to end, and I doubt if he thought it was mediocre.

He chose the poet/poem image because it alone allows him to get where he wants to get: to "My golf, you may say, is no poem; nevertheless, I keep wanting it to be one."

My golf is no novel? That doesn't work.

My golf is no essay? No book review? No stage play? Those don't work.

Nothing works except "poem."

Dan
 

[BCrosby]

Peter -

Thanks for posting. Delightful. The passage is a little jewel.

I too disagree with Rich. It reads as a seamless whole.

Bob

[TEPaul]

"I don't recall his writing much about golf courses. He wrote a lot about the game -- but did he ever write anything substantial about courses?"

Dan:

Good question and I have no idea. They say he surely loved Myopia though and I think I heard he played alone there quite a lot. Last August during the senior member/guest I went to the far end of the parking lot to get the car leaving my partner on the porch. When I drove around to the front he was sitting on the steps talking to Updike. He introduced me and I told him of my interest in architecture, in Myopia as perhaps a great example of some of the very first really good architecture in America, and I mentioned the upcoming USGA Architecture Archive that would include Myopia. I asked him if he would consider talking to me about his thoughts on the course or perhaps write something for us about it and he said he would be delighted to. I certainly did plan to follow up on that but now he's gone.

[Peter Pallotta]

Thanks gents, a good and fun read. I think I inadvertently caused some of the disagreements here and did Updike a disservice at the same time: I didn't type out his entire paragraph, the (...) reflecting the small section I left out. (For no reason except my own laziness; Updike deserves better.)

Dan - I might be wrong in these descriptions, but I think a craftsman serves his craft and its traditions humbly and faithfully; while a consummate artist tends to serve his (personal) vision/muse above all else. That's why I think it so rare that the two elements are combined.  

Rich/Dan - Ha, ha. I don't know about Updike's poetry, but one's golf game, while not necessarily having to be a poem, is usually best described with words that start with "p". See:

Bobby Jones' game: the Poem
Ben Hogan's: the Paean
Ben Crenshaw's: the Prayer
Lee Trevino's: the Punch
Hale Irwin's: the Prosaic
Tiger Woods: the Power
Nick Faldo's: the Pedantic
Byron Nelson's: the Psalm
Seve Ballesteros: the Playboy
Jack Nicklaus: the Papal
Walter Hagen: the Princely
Peter P: the Pauper

Peter P

[Bob_Huntley]

Reading that passage a few more times I think Updike should have stopped after his first sentence.  A delicious image spoiled by a needless need to elaborate.

Rich --

Disagree emphatically.

Here's the passage, again: "My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together with silent inward prayers, exhortations and unstable visualizations, that the sheer pressure of an additional pair of eyes crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble.  'What is the caddie thinking' keeps running through my mind, to the exclusion of all else...Imagine writing a poem with a sweating, worried-looking boy handing you a different pencil at the end of every word. My golf, you may say, is no poem; nevertheless, I keep wanting it to be one."

The "sweating, worried-looking boy" handing him pencils makes the whole passage rise, well, ABOVE the "poetry" of the first sentence, as it grounds it here on earth.

By the way, I am vain enough to think I could improve that first, poetic sentence.

Had I been Updike's editor, I'd have said: "Don't you think, John, it would be better this way: 'My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together [DELE: with silent inward prayers, exhortations and unstable visualizations], that the [DELE: sheer] pressure of [SUB "just two more eyes on it" for "an additional pair of eyes"] crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble'?"

Thus: "My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together, that the pressure of just two more eyes on it crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble."

Better? I think so. Still poetic, but much more efficient.

As for your "Why 'poet'?" question: I don't think he's revealing anything about his self-assessment as a writer. He wrote poetry from beginning to end, and I doubt if he thought it was mediocre.

He chose the poet/poem image because it alone allows him to get where he wants to get: to "My golf, you may say, is no poem; nevertheless, I keep wanting it to be one."

My golf is no novel? That doesn't work.

My golf is no essay? No book review? No stage play? Those don't work.

Nothing works except "poem."

Dan
 

Dan,

A thoughtful correction, as Orwell once wrote, "Less is more."


Bob

[Rich Goodale]

Reading that passage a few more times I think Updike should have stopped after his first sentence.  A delicious image spoiled by a needless need to elaborate.

Rich --

Disagree emphatically.

Here's the passage, again: "My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together with silent inward prayers, exhortations and unstable visualizations, that the sheer pressure of an additional pair of eyes crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble.  'What is the caddie thinking' keeps running through my mind, to the exclusion of all else...Imagine writing a poem with a sweating, worried-looking boy handing you a different pencil at the end of every word. My golf, you may say, is no poem; nevertheless, I keep wanting it to be one."

The "sweating, worried-looking boy" handing him pencils makes the whole passage rise, well, ABOVE the "poetry" of the first sentence, as it grounds it here on earth.

By the way, I am vain enough to think I could improve that first, poetic sentence.

Had I been Updike's editor, I'd have said: "Don't you think, John, it would be better this way: 'My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together [DELE: with silent inward prayers, exhortations and unstable visualizations], that the [DELE: sheer] pressure of [SUB "just two more eyes on it" for "an additional pair of eyes"] crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble'?"

Thus: "My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together, that the pressure of just two more eyes on it crumbles the whole rickety structure into rubble."

Better? I think so. Still poetic, but much more efficient.

As for your "Why 'poet'?" question: I don't think he's revealing anything about his self-assessment as a writer. He wrote poetry from beginning to end, and I doubt if he thought it was mediocre.

He chose the poet/poem image because it alone allows him to get where he wants to get: to "My golf, you may say, is no poem; nevertheless, I keep wanting it to be one."

My golf is no novel? That doesn't work.

My golf is no essay? No book review? No stage play? Those don't work.

Nothing works except "poem."

Dan
 

Disdisagree, Dan

Updike was a +5 writer but a 15 hcp golfer.  Of course his game is "tenuous!"  Before we go to the next sentence we know that his caddie moment is going to be a "Can I get there with a 5 iron."  "Eventually..." sort of experience.  It is NOT an analogy to a dimwit trying to edit his writing, whether it be poetry, prose or dog food commercials.  Rather it is a complete leap from the actual situation (he's crap, his caddie knows it--THE END) to some sort of metaphorical leap of loser-bonding with the barefoot boy with cheek of tan.

A better substitute for "tenuous" is fragile.  I use it a lot in the smae context but will not presume to have been the first to have writtren it.

Bob C

"Seamless" is the proper spelling in your context, but "seemless" is the proper meaning regarding this snippet of Updike's.  Or, as JV Cunnigham once wrote:

"Dream with her dreaming
until her lust
seems with her seeming
an act of trust."

Now that's poetry, IMVHO

Rich

[Rich Goodale]

Thanks gents, a good and fun read. I think I inadvertently caused some of the disagreements here and did Updike a disservice at the same time: I didn't type out his entire paragraph, the (...) reflecting the small section I left out. (For no reason except my own laziness; Updike deserves better.)

Dan - I might be wrong in these descriptions, but I think a craftsman serves his craft and its traditions humbly and faithfully; while a consummate artist tends to serve his (personal) vision/muse above all else. That's why I think it so rare that the two elements are combined.  

Rich/Dan - Ha, ha. I don't know about Updike's poetry, but one's golf game, while not necessarily having to be a poem, is usually best described with words that start with "p". See:

Bobby Jones' game: the Poem
Ben Hogan's: the Paean
Ben Crenshaw's: the Prayer
Lee Trevino's: the Punch
Hale Irwin's: the Prosaic
Tiger Woods: the Power
Nick Faldo's: the Pedantic
Byron Nelson's: the Psalm
Seve Ballesteros: the Playboy
Jack Nicklaus: the Papal
Walter Hagen: the Princely
Peter P: the Pauper

Peter P

Peter

You forgot 4 of the 4 p's!

Product
Price
Place
Promotion

Ooops!  Thought I was posting to the "So you want to be a Marketeer!" website......

Rich

[TEPaul]

Dan K (sm):

I read very carefully and considered very carefully what you said above about how to make Updike's remarks more efficient and less wordy or whatever.

Delete 'with silent inward prayers, exhortations and unstable visualizations?'

I say NEVER! I know I'm the wordiest guy in the county but I love the evocative adjectives and adverbs and the imaginative tapestry of the rest. This guy's ammo is words and I say let him use more not less or at least as many as he did in that quotation.

If you deleted the above words and just left it as; "My golf is so delicate, so tenuously wired together that the pressure of just two more eyes on it......", I wouldn't know whether Updike was concerned about two more eyes on the delicacy of his golfing emotions or the delicacy of his golfing ligaments!   

[TEPaul]

As for Richard the Poet or Prose Laureate who suggested Updike should have stopped at the first sentence, maybe he thinks Lincoln at Gettysburg should have said:

"Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this Contintent, a new Nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal"----and then just ended it right there so the assembled throng could use their own imaginations about what the fuck Abie Baby was even doing at Gettysburg that day and what else he might've had on his mind! 


Jeez, fellows, slow down and enjoy the reading; what's your rush?

[Bill_McBride]

Bill - surely all Updikes golf writings are captured in Golf Dreams? Or did he write much besides?

Philip, I don't know, but will check the New Yorker as a likely location for golf-oriented short stories.  He wrote a lot of great short stories for the magazine over the years.

Somehow i suspect there is more out there than Golf Dreams.

[Lyne Morrison]

Peter,

'Just good writing' - both from Mr Updike and Mr Pallotta.

and very nice reading too, thank you.

Lyne

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