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The Witches of Eastwick by John Updike

So here's the thing: Like any modern, free-thinking, New Age, high-spirited, country-born girl, I love a good dose of feminism now and again....but this was a little ridiculous. I mean, yeah, it's a classic, and it kept me interested up until the very end, but mostly because it was just so darn disturbing that I couldn't stop reading it. It's one of those books that crawl underneath your skin when you're curled up in your window seat, and then all of a sudden your mind wraps around all these sexual inuendos and scenarios that would make make Carrie Jean Underwood blush, and you have to look around and make sure that you're really alone because gods forbid someone walk into the room and ask you what you're reading and what it's about! I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll tell anyone who wanted to give it a try to go ahead and give it a good whirl, but don't come whining to me when you find that it's nothing like the movie. Although, considering some parts of the tale, I'm sure Cher, Susan, and Michelle fell on their knees and thanked the virgin that the screenplay wasn't exactly like the book. There's also a lot of Old World Craft in here that may interest Wiccan historians.



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