I told myself that I would watch theSuper Bowl until halftime, in order to listen to The Who perform, butI ended up watching the whole game. The forces of light, aka the New Orleans Saints, vanquished the forces of darkness, the team whose name shall not be named (still smarting that they stole this franchise under the cover of darkness from the great city of Baltimore).

The onside kick to open the second half was the gutsiest play call I've ever seen a coach make in a Super Bowl. That, and keeping Peyton Manning off the field for most of the second quarter, turned the game around. It was a fun game to watch and my mute button got a thorough workout fending off the nearly endless series of commercials, which I have been told by people whose judgement I trust were misogynist, unfunny and cruel. My 8-year-old kept turning his head away from the screen when things were blown up. This is entertainment?!

Speaking of blowing up things, the commercials gave me ample time to finish reading John Updike's Terrorist. This is a strange book for a novelist of Updike's stature to write so close to his own death, and it's a measure of his extraordinary gifts that he had enough gas in the tank to keep readers turning the pages. Nonetheless, it's a clumsy, ill-advised attempt to get inside the head of a teenage Arab-American who is conned into blowing up a truck inside Lincoln Tunnel by a New Jersey imam and another man, who turns out to have been working for the CIA. The conversations among the characters are all long-winded speeches that read more like Updike's own thoughts on the topics. And the interplay among the high school students feels like a lab theater production written by the drama coach forcing his will on his young charges.

That notwithstanding, the book is worth reading if only to enjoy the portrayal of Jack Levy, the high school guidance counselor, a sad, cynical man nearing retirement age whose wife is morbidly obese and who bears a passing resemblance to Updike's greatest ever creation, Rabbit Angstrom. In a final act of courage, Levy tries desperately to get inside the head of the "terrorist," Ahmad. It may have been one of Updike's final acts of courage to attempt a book on such a timely topic, even if it does mostly fail.

The Who acquitted themselves nicely at halftime. What is it that Roger Daltry does to keep from aging? The guy is not human. Has he sold his soul to the devil?