A review by quintusmarcus
The Eighth Day by Thornton Wilder, John Updike

2.0

I guess I understand now why critics were for the most part so hard on Eighth Day. The book just doesn't seem to work, to come together in any meaningful way. The machinations of the story are just too contrived, to false to function as readable fiction. Wilder's philosophizing I do find rather more enjoyable, unlike the professional critics who mostly hate it. I do love Wilder's works, and I wanted so very much to enjoy this book, but whatever Wilder was trying to achieve, I couldn't grasp. I'll come back to the book later, 5, 10 years from now perhaps, and maybe it will make sense to me then. In the mean time, I would rather go back and re-read the Ides of March, his earlier and far superior novel.