**This is the sequel to the book and movie Witches Of Eastwick.
Updike’s apparent fascination with possible body odor emanating from his characters’ nether regions was enough to make me feel a little queasy. After one particularly odd scene of an old lady’s behind in someone’s face that may or may not have stunk, I slammed the book shut and stared at Updike’s picture in despair.
Why, oh why did you have to make me read that, John? What did I ever do to you?
So I took a deep breath, composed myself and plunged through the book as quickly as possible, secretly terrified that I would be forced to endure another visual whiff of old lady genitalia. The slap in the face was the anti-climactic ending. The least he could’ve done was write a good finish line.
Don’t say you weren’t warned.