Every single character in John Updikes oeuvre is having an affair! All the women are drinking gin and following their married neighbors to the upstairs bathrooms; all married couples are frankly discussing their partner's lovers/fake-lovers/red-herrings/blatant assignation.
While we assume its the emotional void of shrunken masculinity rubbing elbows with America's discomfort with women's lib, its actually because young John Updike was so good-looking in an Adrian Brody way that he was the home-wrecker for every house in his neighborhood.
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