Overrated Writers, Part One: Philip Roth

Philip Roth once wrote a great, great book. It’s called Goodbye, Columbus and it’s his first book, published in 1959. The title novella is a hilarious, piercing tale of a doomed love affair between a poor bookish urban Jew and a spoiled Jewish-American Princess from the suburbs. The story reaches its sublime peak when the hero visits his girlfriend’s palatial home and gapes, astonished, while her college-educated brother sits in his bedroom and listens over and over to his “Columbus record”, a souvenir from his beloved Ohio State University. Goodbye, Columbus is one of my favorite books, and, yes, it establishes Philip Roth as a superb writer.

Unfortunately, as I said, this book was written in 1959. The “You can listen to my Columbus record” scene was not only the peak of this novella but also the peak of Roth’s entire literary career. Did fame spoil Philip Roth? Maybe, because a paranoid, cranky dislike of humanity began to dominate his writing by the early sixties. I’m not sure what went wrong between his first book of short stories and the later books, though it may have had something to do with the difficult personal struggles he eventually chronicled in an autobiography, The Facts.

Paranoia became Roth’s central theme, and it permeates most of his novels, from Portnoy’s Complaint to American Pastoral to The Plot Against America. Roth’s paranoia is different from the cold high-tech creepiness of Don DeLillo or the proud anti-establishment defiance of Ken Kesey. In Roth’s world, it’s the ones we know best and love most who are trying to oppress and destroy us: our parents, our friends and neighbors, our lovers, our children. This is a harsh and depressing world view, and while I don’t begrudge Roth the right to call the shots the way he sees them, I do not find his theme very universal. Even less do I find it edifying. This is why I must disagree when I hear him described as a great writer of our age.

Philip Roth’s world view is essentially childish. His most successful writings are about young people, but the formula turns sickly when his characters grow into adults, because the existential self-actualization of a mature adult is beyond his scope. The classic Roth character is terrified, helpless and about to throw a big fit. By the time his characters get old and prepare to die, as in the new Everyman, they may become resigned, but there is little evidence that they ever become mature.

In this sense, there is a great difference between Roth and an author he is frequently compared to, John Updike. There are similarities as well — they both emerged in the late 50s and hit their strides during the Vietnam War era, when Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint and Updike’s Couples perched on the bestseller list. Both writers carried forward the risque literary tradition of D. H. Lawrence and Henry Miller, but Updike’s literary vision feels expansive where Roth’s feels repressive. A look at the way they conduct themselves as literary celebrities brings home this point.

John Updike seems infused with generosity and curiosity. He publishes short stories and poems along with novels, and he is also, by any measure, one of our top literary critics. His characters inhabit an amazing variety of cultural backgrounds, some more convincingly than others, though the attempt is always admirable: an Arab-American terrorist, a Brazilian beach bum, a Danish Queen, an African politician. Philip Roth’s fictional universe, on the other hand, is entirely peopled by, hmm, let’s see … Jewish families in Newark, Jewish families who left Newark, famous Jewish writers, famous Jewish writers from Newark, and famous Jewish writers whose families left Newark. Then there are some characters who resemble Philip Roth.

I could forgive Philip Roth’s introverted consistency (no short stories, no literary criticism, just one novel after another) if his writing didn’t feel similarly churlish. He is a talented storyteller and knows how to paint a key scene, but his narrative voice is often surprisingly clumsy and obvious. I don’t want to dwell too much on the Updike-Roth comparison, but it must be said that Philip Roth is not in John Updike’s league as a prose stylist. Roth doesn’t even attempt the beautiful turns, the sparkling observations, the sharp-edged parentheticals that characterize a typical John Updike sentence.

I must make this clear: I really do like Philip Roth. I just can’t abide by the current meme that calls him a relevant spokesperson for our current time. I’m especially bothered by the fact that Roth is often called a representative voice for modern American Jews; I’m a member of that group, and Roth’s bitter message of fundamental separatism does not speak for me.

I have spent a lot of time with Roth’s books over the years. Sometimes I like them, sometimes I don’t. Portnoy’s Complaint must have seemed revolutionary in its own time, but it’s a bumpy read today. The Breast? A one-joke book. Roth turned a literary corner with The Ghost Writer, introducing a new altar ego named Nathan Zuckerman and a more seasoned, measured authorial voice. I liked this book, but I could not endure the endless sequels. The only other later Roth I care about is The Facts, a searing and painful autobiography that includes a raw account of his terrible first marriage, which is instructive reading for any husband who feels like a secret victim of a dominating wife (this drama played out just as young Roth’s literary career skyrocketed, and the ordeal may help explain his signature sense of paranoia).

In Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov wrote about a French ape in a zoo who was coaxed into producing a drawing with charcoal on paper. The ape, Nabokov tells us, was only able to draw the bars of his own cage. Philip Roth, as far as I can see, has spent the last forty years doing the same thing.

But read Goodbye Columbus.

* * * * *

What’s the point of naming overrated writers if I’m not going to take on some Goliaths? I’ll be naming the five most overrated writers of our time here at LitKicks all week, one per day, and I promise I won’t waste your time with easy targets like Curtis Sittenfeld or Jonathan Safran Foer. I’m going for a truly beloved author tomorrow, a bicoastal sacred cow who has recently capped a long career with a triumphant book. I like the recent book, but I find the long career underwhelming. Check back tomorrow to see who I’m talking about.

10 Responses

  1. Way to show some balls.I like
    Way to show some balls.

    I like this. Can’t wait to see who’s up next.

    I’d probably throw Joseph Conrad and Nick Hornby into the mix. But that’s just me.

  2. deal me in . . .Levi, your
    deal me in . . .

    Levi, your reviews are always fun to read. You back up your points handily.

    I must venture a guess about your next subject:

    Norman Mailer


    Or are you going to keep a poker face until tomorrow?

  3. Thanks, Malt … well, Joseph
    Thanks, Malt … well, Joseph Conrad is forever on my good list, and I’m sticking to living writers. That’s all I better say at this point.

  4. I forgot to say …I got so
    I forgot to say …

    I got so wrapped up in my diatribe that I forgot to add this personal note: ironically, I am myself a Roth. My paternal grandmother is Clara Roth, born in Potok Zloty to (I think) Yitzhak Roth. Roth is a common Yiddish name that means “Red”. I’ve always wondered if I was related to Philip … though I take more pride in the fact that I may be related to David Lee.

  5. And Tim Roth played “Mr.
    And Tim Roth played “Mr. Orange” in the film Reservoir Dogs.

  6. hello life, goodbye…Is it
    hello life, goodbye…

    Is it okay to say (re-Warren Weappa’s assertion) that the movies made from Roth’s books were okay, but having seen them, I’d never read the books?

    And then to state my dilemma for me, the Roth-book-movies are too ethnic, and perhaps needlessly so. Which is to say, the characters could have maybe been of any of the various ethnicities, and it really wouldn’t have made much difference, would it? But then, a person has to write from what he knows, right? I’m a midwestern Catholic white boy, and none of the characters in my various writings are Jewish or Italian or Puerto Rican. Which is not to say I don’t know or associate with other peoples in the world. My friend and co-worker in Panama, Joe Cassidy, was a Puerto Rican Jew. Most of my friends in Italy were black. I don’t know why that was, just worked out that way. But even if I write black or Hispanic characters in a particular novel, they don’t really have ethnic characteristics — because from my viewpoint, I’m not sure that anyone really does.

    All the people I grew up with in north-east Nebraska, were German. But were they typically German? Is anybody?

  7. Exposing Roth as the Weenie
    Exposing Roth as the Weenie He is

    thanks for exposing roth. nobody in the lit power estab. gives a shit, but we can blow our little horns in the desert.

    did you see that he had, like, seven of the 25 NYT selections for best american fiction of the blah, blah? Like Toni Morrison, his prose reads like someone came in with a big honking machine and cut off all the rough edges, then squeezed out all the juice.

    Comparing these sterile doodlebugs to the towering literary giants of the first half of the 20th century is to expose them for the academic hacks they are. Oh, that’s right – they don’t make those comparisons.

  8. So easy to attempt to topple
    So easy to attempt to topple the big guys. Danjazz refers to the towering literary giants of the first half of the 20th century. Perhaps he’d like to get up to speed and list some of the writers of the second half who match his unlisted list.

  9. Wow… is it legal to
    Wow… is it legal to criticize a writer as accomplished as Roth using such banal and uninsightful writing?

  10. And who are you to criticize
    And who are you to criticize these so called “failed writers”? I’m not trying to be overly critical – but really, where are your careers?!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

What We're Up To ...

Litkicks will turn 30 years old in the summer of 2024! We can’t believe it ourselves. We don’t run as many blog posts about books and writers as we used to, but founder Marc Eliot Stein aka Levi Asher is busy running two podcasts. Please check out our latest work!