I’m reading Updike’s recent Krasner-Pollock-Novel “Seek My Face”, in very slow pace. Pick it up again now and then, with long intermissions. I like it, though. It’s a semi-fictional reflection on 20th century US art through the eyes of an artist, and it’s an intelligent deconstruction of art critics’ contortions, a welcome demystification. Many characters are easily identifiable, but in a peculiar move that tells a lot about his bias, Updike merges the whole pop art personnel, from Rauschenberg, Johns, Lichtenstein up to Warhol, into one person, Chavetz-Krasner’s 2nd husband Guy Holloway.