Philip Roth, Part V

As promised, I continue. At this point in my journey, I was reading pretty voraciously, at the rate of about one book every two days. I recommend to everyone trying to do something like that for a month, but after that it can get to be a problem. I was also plagued by headaches during this time, and still am.

The Facts: A Novelist's Autobiography: As I imagined, about as comprehensive as I imagine a "novelist's autobiography"--that is, not really at all. At first it seems like Roth wrote this for the obvious reasons, those being to address certain aspects of his fiction and compare them to real-life occurrences. That does happen a bit, but Roth doesn't seem to want to elaborate on any of it. Simply put, this isn't much of an autobiography, and Roth freely admits to being unable to stay away from embellishing certain themes even as he tacitly denies that, being as spiritually bankrupt as he is, they can actually mean anything. Still, though, there are anecdotes aplenty worth comparing Roth's fiction to, and independently a few stand out as being artfully presented. The framing device of having Roth send a manuscript of The Facts as well as a letter to his fictional alter ego, Nathan Zuckerman, is confusing, as is Zuckerman's long written response to Roth at the end of the book. It does serve to highlight the fact that there are severe differences between Zuckerman and Roth--for instance, Zuckerman's dad died before his mom, and Roth's dad didn't die mouthing the word "bastard." Still, what is to be meant of Zuckerman's criticism of the preceding manuscript? Does it even count as self-criticism? Is it meant to prove that this "autobiography" is nothing of the sort, and still belongs under fiction? I tend to think the latter. Roth's autobiography isn't really different from his fiction, and Zuckerman recognizes that, if that makes any sense.

Deception: A Novel: This is a very bizarre read, structured as it is almost entirely of dialogue, with no description, no modifiers, and very frequently no idea who is talking to who. It's kind of brilliant, and it proves that Roth can write dialogue that, while not what we would call "realistic," is certainly fascinating enough on its own. It's called Deception, of course, because it is about a series of (imagined?) affairs that Roth has, principally with a married British woman and a Czech runaway. As one can tell, most of these conversations happen post-coitus, and Roth is expert at capturing both the desperation and the flippancy of such conversations. It is never boring, exactly, and strikes me as a possibly very good play, except part of the pleasure of the book is not knowing who exactly is talking. If that doesn't sound pleasurable to you, you probably don't want to read it. If you want to read a book of people rambling on intelligently about sex, and I almost always do, then you don't do much better than this. By the way, this novel falls under the "Roth" aegis even though the principle character is referred to as "Philip" only once--this becomes a critical plot point later in yet another one of Roth's futile attempts to write himself into his stories as a means to escape persistent drama.

Patrimony: A True Story: Roth's second, more streamlined attempt at writing a memoir is quite a gesture, basically detailing the story of his father's final years and his battle with cancer. Roth's father, Herman, comes off as an extraordinarily likable figure, a far cry from Zuckerman's father, and what's more he seems to have a sense of humor about his son's work. There are several very funny sequences, which one appreciates more and more as Herman's cancer gets worse and Roth is unable to do anything other than write about it. I appreciate very much how candid Roth is in going through the precise medical details of someone dying of cancer (this is something he would get into in later works). When his father does die in the end, of course it makes for compelling reading, but at least part of the compulsion has to do with wondering how the hell someone can sit down and write about something like that. But he does, plainly, honestly, and admirably in my opinion. While this book is quite a downer, it is as fitting of an epitaph as one could imagine of an 86-year old former insurance agent who just happens to have sired a notorious novelist. How he managed to do this and not be sentimental is anyone's guess, but he far exceeded my expectations.

Operation Shylock: A Confession: I can't begin to imagine what inspired Roth to write a book like this, but I can only imagine he had a score to settle with someone, probably regarding the state of Israel. While previously his alter-ego Zuckerman had balked at the idea of talking about middle-eastern geopolitics, Roth delves into the issue headlong for the first time since The Counterlife, and crafts a very unsettling and compelling fictional memoir. At least part of this account we know to be true--Roth had a bad reaction to some sort of painkiller meant to help him after a knee operation, and he became depressed and suicidal for a brief time. After recovering, Roth finds that, bizarrely, someone has been impersonating him in Israel, going to public events claiming to be the real Philip Roth and preaching the creed of "diasporism," a sort of reverse Zionism wherein Jews would leave what was supposedly an unlawful occupation of Israel and come back to live in Europe and speak Yiddish. What makes matters more bizarre is that this fake Philip Roth looks and acts exactly like the real one. The real Roth was already planning on traveling to Israel to interview the author Aharon Applefeld, so he decides to do a bit of detective work while he's there. Suffice to say, however bizarre one thinks the situation already is, it gets far worse. Roth has never been more politically incisive: while he is obviously critical of a ludicrous ideology like diasporism, he is unsparing in his criticism of Israel, but not necessarily denying the necessity of a Jewish state. This is multifaceted, compelling pseudo-journalism at work here. Whether or not all or part of this book is some sort of elaborate fantasy is unclear, but this is definitely a book one can imagine Roth enjoying writing, if only for the fact that he'd relish making a few new enemies in the process.

The Plot Against America: A bit plot-heavy by Roth standards, but given the subject matter, it needed to be. The notion of alternate histories and "what if" scenarios had been a big part of science-fiction and especially comic books for quite some time. Roth's idea, to imagine such a scenario in the micro, in reference to his own boyhood, makes it far more charmingly personal and less ham-fisted. At least, until the end. Here's what happens (happened?): The famous aviator, anti-Semite and Hitler sympathizer Charles Lindbergh becomes the Republican presidential nominee in 1940, and later defeats FDR soundly on an isolationist platform. As a result, America never enters World War II, which spells dire consequences for England and the rest of the world. Meanwhile, young Philip Roth is 10 and a perfectly innocent young boy, alarmed by the fear that his parents seem to exhibit now that Lindbergh is president. Eventually, things do start to happen: Jewish families are "relocated," there are camps for Americanizing young Jewish boys, and anti-Semitic riots start breaking out. There's a lot of brilliant stuff going on here, even if it all seems a tad unlikely, given the circumstances. In fact, the big twist at the end (a rarity for Roth to even attempt such a thing) seems to come out of left field, even if it does make perfect sense in a blunt sort of way. However, Roth's feel for his hometown and his childhood, even in this alternate universe, is as keen and expressive as ever. But what is his message at the end? That for all America's wrongdoings, it will eventually correct itself in the end? It does seem a tad convenient at times.

Almost done. Coming up: Sabbath's Theater (my favorite!), Shop Talk and Everyman. Then I am done.