Flash forward thirty-some years and connect the dots with considered characterizations and backstory intervals through a couple husbands each and a Bekins move or two - far-flung or across the Rhode Island line. The now-widowed trio takes tentative steps for a reunion to the “scene of our primes” that happens to also be a return to the scene of a murderous crime. Chronicling the chaos, exquisitely and pointedly written, The Widows of Eastwick is split into three chunky sections, recapitulating Witches’ divisions and conjuring suggestions of their own: "The Coven Reconstituted," wild again as globetrotting geriatric Gidgets (they‘re the ginchiest!); beguiled again with "Maleficia Revisited" in a "very special" Golden Girls; and finally, "Guilt Assuaged" by a simpering, whimpering second childhood again. Romance, finis? Far from it.
Though there are sparks of Updike’s glinting wit and honed, graceful craftsmanship, he ultimately takes an unmapped route, plowing over the impasses, while certain passages smack of stylistic tour guide-ese or evoke episodic must-see sitcoms. In the end, Updike resorts to dithering and faltering irresolution as the contrivances and impulses find rushed and consolidated expression in a slapdash epistolary denouement that ties up the loose ends a little too neatly. Vexed again, perplexed again?
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