"...the bizarre, adolescent believe that getting to have sex with whomever one wants whenever one wants to is a cure for human despair. And Toward the End of Time's author, so far as I can figure out, believes it too. Updike makes it plain that he views the narrator's final impotence as catastrophic, as the ultimate symbol of death itself, and he clearly wants us to moarn it as much as Turnbull does. I am not shocked or offended by this attitude; I mostly just don't get it. Ramplant or flaccid, Ben Turnbull's unhappiness is obvious right from the novel's first page. It never once occurs to him, though, that the reason he's so un happy is that he's an asshole".