The Centaur (1963) by John Updike


The Centaur (1963) by John Updike

I picked this one up on a whim from the “free table” at work, and it was a trip to say the least. The novel follows the trials and tribulations of a high school teacher, George Caldwell, and his son Peter as they navigate their day-to-day lives during a harsh 1940s Pennsylvania winter.

What makes this book so unique is how Updike shifts in and out of several tiers of fantasy in his presentation of the narrative. While most of the story is told realistically, some chapters introduce a world where Greek mythology layers itself unassumingly into modernity, acting as a kind of metaphor for the more chaotic aspects of Caldwell’s life, as well as to represent his view of himself. Here he’s the titular centaur - a boon to mankind and his community, but forsaken by higher powers to a life of struggle and pain.

And this brings me to my biggest takeaway from The Centaur. The story is, in many respects, a cautionary tale about the value of self-worth. Caldwell is a hero in action - devoted teacher, selfless coach and ministry-man, and caring father and husband - yet he’s dragged down of his own accord by a cynical, loathing mindset. He views himself as a hopeless man plagued with no prospects of his own and no meaningful contributions to his family or society at large (although the veiled respect of his students, friendship of his neighbors, and concern of his wife and son prove otherwise). This state of mind translates into a self-neglect that extends as far as his refusal to wear the winter gloves Peter bought him because they’re “too nice for him”. Yet he demonstrates his reversal of care so readily, in acts like picking up stranded hitchhikers, to doing everything in his power to keep Peter safe when their car breaks down. Caldwell selflessly serves others, but refuses to heed his own needs to the point that he’s grown intrinsically hateful - hateful of his job, of his home, and of his situation in general. And this self-neglect and cynicism materializes in Caldwell as an undisclosed illness that, depending on how you interpret the narrative, claims him in the end to his own bitter satisfaction. He’s failed to realize that his sense of duty to helping others can’t continue to be fulfilled without some semblance of helping himself first. Not in a selfish way, but in the sense that valuing your own worth is the first step in being valuable to the people around you. One of my main resolutions for 2024 is to be more positive, and The Centaur has reinforced the importance of that resolution. To be like George Caldwell in action is commendable - to be like George Caldwell in thought is suicide. So as much as “self-care” and “positive thinking” have become overused and meaningless terms today, there really is something essential there that shouldn’t be overlooked.

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