John Updike occupies a position held by only a handful of writers in my life in that he created books that moved me to tears, to sweat, and laughter. It’s a rare facility. The Guardian has tributes. Richard Ford nails it:
John Updike has been central to the landscape I’ve looked at since I was a teenager – and I’m nearly 65. But for all of his brilliance, his immense curiosity and great “width” as a writer who virtually thought straight on to the page at an extremely high level, in America we seemed almost to take him for granted. It’s our way. He’d been around us all those years. As if there might be another writer like John come along in time. Well, there won’t be.