Doing Pastoral Literature

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Roth entertains his usual themes and delves here into the "American identity", exploring the boundaries of the given and the acquired in the context of the family and the nation. There is no effort made to captivate the reader. It presents segments of quality and disarming force, as well as sections of wide thematic digression. (Or with a small wink at the assumed order that chaos inevitably consumes.) Now delving into details, now pushing into the speculative abyss.

The edition has pieces of bad translation, random blunders, and even spelling errors. The idea that reading serves to help write correctly is increasingly a myth.

I read an article about a year ago that purportedly detailed Philip Roth's rituals each time a new Nobel Prize winner for Literature is announced. Allegedly, it goes something like this: every year he travels to his agent's office in New York, eagerly awaiting the precious call. However, every year it fails to come, and so he returns home to Connecticut with his head bowed. This is all just gossip, of course, but I believe that if it were true, it would truly reflect the attitude of what many consider to be his magnum opus.

This is a self-conscious book. What do I mean by that? This novel is not merely a means of expression or a simple story-telling device. There are passages within it that seem acutely aware of their own greatness. Little monologues offer social commentary and pseudo-intellectual critiques. Sometimes these work well, but there are also times when they seem to suffocate the life out of the novel. After a while, one begins to suspect that these characters are no longer real characters but rather mouthpieces for an award-giving body.

Is this necessarily a bad thing? Not necessarily. There are certain books that are overly heavy-handed with this approach, but most books that matter possess a degree of self-awareness. It is usually a matter of balancing the author's agenda with the complexity of characterization and story-telling. And when done correctly, the self-awareness becomes almost invisible. In my opinion, though, the best kinds of books are those written without any pretensions.

In the field of literature, there exists this curious phenomenon where self-consciousness can translate into self-confidence, and that confidence can embolden an author to take extremely ambitious risks. And in this instance, the risks paid off handsomely. This novel has moments when I felt as if I was reading a work by DeLillo. I'm not comparing the two authors or knocking one of them. I'm simply stating that here Roth achieves such a high degree of self-awareness that it could almost be called self-mastery. He delves deep into his ego, confronts his fears, and in doing so, unearths a voice that has the power to terrify us all.

What is wrong with my way of life? This is a question that you may not have asked yourself before, but it's one that you're likely to ask if you choose to read this book. If you're an upper-middle-class, reasonably educated person, and chances are you are since you have the luxury of spending so much time between books and this website, then you're like the rest of the Levovs. You love the norms and absolutes that you're accustomed to and comfortable with. But sometimes people like Merry appear, a little too idealistic, easily influenced by propaganda, and driven by their desire for much-needed change. There are also those intellectuals ensconced in their ivory towers and fancy armchairs, too high and mighty to be bothered with anything tangible. And then there are those nobs who care only about money and nothing else. The point is, people are different. We all think we're right, and we all want to force our beliefs down each other's throats. That's what postmodernism has become. Religion, political preference, race, gender, sports, brands, paper vs e-books, you name it, all of these can cause conflict. America, the great land of unlimited opportunities, has also paid the price of unlimited threats with the onset of globalization. These threats are not just to your way of life but also to your family. And now this is no longer just an American issue; it's a relevant issue everywhere. The time when nations went to war may be over, but the individual battles, of idea against belief, are now being fought. As a species, our issues are becoming increasingly self-centric. Let this serve as a reminder to keep your family close and to be vigilant because, in a sense, everyone who's not you is out to get you.

It took me two months to read this novel. To be more precise, it took me two months to read the first half of the novel and less than four hours to read the rest. This started out as a kind of ode to a childhood hero, then evolved into a romance, then a perfect little fairytale, which transformed into a parental horror story, and finally culminated in a man's awakening to the realities around him. It's a rather challenging read. As I mentioned earlier, the first half of the novel doesn't really engage you. The initial pacing is hampered by Roth's tendency to succumb to unnecessary grandiosity, which kills the story's momentum. This style worked better in the second half, but right from the start, without the necessary foundation, his monologues seem out of place. But when you reach the dinner party and his characters start to come alive, it comes as a pleasant surprise. At its best, this novel ranks among the great American novels. Yes, it may have sputtered initially, and this is where, I think, many people give up on it. But if you can endure the shaky takeoff and some early turbulence, this book has the potential to take you to great heights.

This book, "American Pastoral," is by far the most layered one of Roth's works that I have read. It is truly impossible to comprehensively describe all that this book encompasses.

The story revolves around Seymour Levov, a Jewish-American man who appears to have his life perfectly in order. In his youth, he was a celebrated athlete in baseball and basketball. He is married to the beautiful Dawn, an ex-Miss New Jersey, and is a successful businessman who took over his father's glove factory in Newark. He is also an involved and concerned father, and in general, a really amiable man. However, behind this facade, Seymour, or the Swede as he is colloquially known, hides a great personal drama related to his daughter Merry. During her puberty, she completely derailed and became actively involved in deadly terrorism acts against the Vietnam War and the capitalist system. Until the end, we see Seymour intensely struggling with the question of what he did wrong and what he could have done to prevent the tragedy.

The Swede is the victim of blind fate that strikes in a seemingly unjust way. In this sense, there are nice parallels with Greek drama and the biblical Job-story. Roth shows great empathy for both the position of the concerned parent and that of the rebellious daughter. But he also mercilessly describes the wrong self-image that these "normal" people seem to have and suggests that they are also guilty because they wanted too much to accommodate to the American model in such an extreme way that they lost everything.

This brings us to the broader context of the shattering of the American dream. The Levovs are part of a family of East-European Jewish immigrants who, in three generations, managed to become respectable Americans, fully embracing the American dream. But this period has now unmercifully come to an end. The story of Merry gets a parallel in the violence of the socially and racially discriminated African Americans during the riots that smashed half of Newark in the late 1960s. Roth also brings in a portrait of the turbulent sixties and explores the background of the radicalism of young people and minority groups.

Finally, there is a typical Roth-twist. The whole story of Seymour Levov is told by Roth's alter ego, Nathan Zuckerman, based on scarce information elements. By the chaotic way of storytelling and the open ending, the alert reader can be aware that there is actually a third narrator speaking and not Seymour himself. This gives the book an extra (postmodern) layer.

Now, the question of whether this is a successful book is difficult to answer. Roth's portrayal of Seymour Levov is masterly, and to some extent, the same is true for his wife Dawn. However, some of the other characters are less convincing, with the caricatured father Lou Levov being an absolute cliché, and even the rebellious daughter Merry not being credibly painted. Additionally, the detailed development of certain background aspects, like the perfectionist passion of Seymour and his father for glove manufacturing, can become really annoying.

Nevertheless, though it's not perfect, "American Pastoral" is for sure a major work of American literature. Roth has shown us what it means to be human and that we also need literature to truly be human.

T. S. Eliot said it clearer.

However, I must grudgingly admit that there were indeed many things to love about this novel, even if I never truly fell in love with it.

What I liked most was the transformation of all these seemingly identical events. At the beginning, they were all about the surface, but by the end, they had evolved into the nearly mad ramblings of internal monologue. There was no sharp delineation. It was as if I was being boiled alive like a lobster, gradually realizing that all the good and true things in the world are, in fact, illusions and subterfuges, especially when the actors never stop believing in the lie.

Of course, I'm referring to the great American Lie, specifically the WASP ethos. We are never truly allowed to step outside of it, except in brief moments of near sexual completion, into the "other" mindset exemplified by Merry. After all, how can any lie withstand the ponderous knock of reality on our gate?

This is America. We're still in our adolescence. That means we've probably moved beyond the more frolicsome and destructive rebellions and are now exploring more complicated ideologies than Marxism or Jainism. But the fact remains that this book focuses all our attention and energies on the many masks we wear, showing us how untenable our polite fictions really are. At the same time, it spends the entire book trying to convince us that the Swede, the All-American Boy, the industry leader, the devoted father, the all-around decent and intelligent guy, is in fact a tragic character, a straw man representing America itself.

I liked this novel. I really did.

BUT... I've never been able to identify with these people. I've never identified with sports, extroversion, beauty pageants, or upholding the grand American Way and Dream. Most of us moderns see through the lies as soon as they slap us in the face, and even more of us get pissed off at the whole mess.

But it won the Pulitzer!

So what? Maybe it would have more of an impact on someone old enough to remember that there actually were people who never had a doubt in the American Dream. Maybe my parents would find this book a lot more disturbing.

But to be honest, Merry herself was also a huge straw man, and I could never believe the lengths she went to. Jainism? Really? Even Jainists in India have a whole culture that supports and respects them. Without that little nudge, a Jainist here would have crumbled into dust in a shorter time than this. Five years? And the end of the novel? Come on. I never believed Merry to be as heartless and cruel as her father makes her out to be. He never tried to understand her, and thus brought this tragedy upon them all.

All right. I know that's a bold assertion that may or may not be supported in the text, but I got the distinct impression that Mr. Roth is presenting us with a highly persuasive novel. I mean persuasive in the sense that he's trying to drive an idea home into our heads, not that I've been convinced. He's a meme pusher, and he's trying to evoke a pervasive sense of pathos for the loss of Americana at all costs.

Do I think he's writing from the heart? Or do I think he's a calculating and crafty writer piling on nostalgia and lost dreams for the sake of a cold and callous effect?

Honestly, there were times when I was charmed, but most of the time, I felt like I was going through an indoctrination/breakdown/indoctrination process, watching as the sand that I had been told was extremely valuable trickled through my shaking hands.

So no, I think the writing is fantastic, but after reflection, I don't think I like this novel.

I will give it one thing: It balanced a fine line between hope and despair.

It is becoming increasingly rare to come across books that are both exquisitely written and yet powerfully impactful, with surprises lurking around nearly every corner.

Often, one has to settle for just one aspect (like the nearly incomprehensible Infinite Jest that I still struggle to get through) or the other (such as The Outfit or, for instance, Game of Thrones). So, when my movie producer friend mentioned that his employer, Lakeshore Entertainment, would be releasing a film adaptation of Roth's American Pastoral, I picked up the book (my first by Roth) and was completely astonished.

No wonder the book won the 1997 Pulitzer and was a runner-up on the NYT list of best books of the last 25 years from 2006. (Side note: on that list, I concur with the choice of Beloved by Toni Morrison as well as Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy and am now intrigued to read some of the other ones by Updike and DeLillo that I haven't yet read.)

According to Wikipedia, a pastoral typically focuses on life in the countryside and requires the presence of a cow in the story. Some strands of pastoral literature have, in modern times, criticized the urban sprawl of cities and their encroachment on the "pastoral lifestyle". While it's challenging to pigeonhole Roth into a specific category, the fact that the Lvov family owns a large property – and at one point has a bull named Count and a herd of cows – and Merry's revolt against not just the idyllic image of America are some ways in which the title can be seen as applicable.

I viewed it as an epic exploration behind the scenes of a seemingly perfect family that is gradually revealed to be "reprehensible", as the last sentence of the book states. The various facades of 20th-century life in America and the questions that are raised – prosperity, but at what cost? global dominance and warfare, but for what ideal? – are addressed through the vivid character portraits and their interactions with one another.

If we examine the principal character, Seymour "Swede" Lvov from the outside, we see a man who was always excellent at everything – a triple letterman in sports, with a beautiful physique, a gorgeous ex-model wife, and a successful business. But we also learn of his emotional detachment from everything – he has constructed an American pastoral ideal in his mind and is torn apart by Merry's act of terrorism, just as the small store was blown up along with a neighbor.

The way in which the various facts are disclosed and the psychosis of each of the characters in the book made for captivating reading. I appreciated how we begin with a first-person narrator who fades away as the Swede is exposed and unravelled by the cascade of events. Roth never hands us details on a silver platter – we have to endure the screaming Merry and her neurotic mother, as well as a host of other characters, to figure out what actually occurred and how each character was affected.

We are as unwitting participants in the deterioration of the Lvov family as the characters themselves. Even the end of the book is ambiguous – did Rita Cohen really exist at the end or is the Swede losing his grip? Do we simply leave Merry the Jain in that squalid apartment in Newark? Does the Swede evolve into a more self-aware human being or does he just suppress all the anguish (to protect his unfaithful wife Dawn and his acrimonious father Lou Lvov), as he has always done? This is perhaps the most compelling aspect of this book, leaving you to draw your own conclusions and fill in the colors you desire in this particularly explosive American pastoral portrait.

Still, after reading 20 of Roth's books, Pastoral stands out as one of my favorites, along with its evil doppelgänger (according to Roth), Sabbath's Theater.

To be read urgently… I hope (although I'm fairly confident) that Lakeshore Entertainment does it justice.

Apparently, the film was rather bad, so stick with the excellent book!

RIP (1933 - 2018). One of America's literary giants has left us.

My rating of all the Pulitzer Winners: https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/1...

Who is writing in such a remarkable way at present? I'm not referring to who is the most highly regarded or the most controversial, the best or the most "important," whatever those terms might signify. But rather, who, in today's literary landscape, is writing circles around the rest of us? Whose command of the English language is so awe-inspiring that every page leaves us astonished based solely on that aspect, not to mention all those intricate themes?

Roth's words seem to sizzle and sing, never losing their pace, racing forward with a vitality that trembles. Within this irresistible momentum, it's as if he has the power to do anything, take you to any place, either bury the truth or shout it out loud, either bury the past or relive it, either bury the future or shape it. Time is like putty in his hands. He utters the wildest things, the funniest things, the most preposterous, horrifying, real, and unreal things. Is this the story of white America in the 20th century? Or is it a preposterous farce that is completely detached from reality?

Merry, the young woman at the core of the novel, is not a real person in the traditional sense, not a flesh and blood human being. No less talented a writer could have possibly overcome that – that decision. The Swede, our protagonist, is also not a real human being. This fact is made abundantly clear from the very first page, and tricking you into forgetting it is one of Roth's most astounding feats. These characters are not symbols either, not personifications of generations – although Roth toys with that idea, much like a cat batting around a mouse it has no intention of eating. So what are we dealing with here? Are they personified anxieties? Phantoms of America's past? Not real people, but reality given a physical form? And then, suddenly, there they are, human beings! How wrong I was to doubt! Foolish, ridiculous, and ungainly human beings. Astonishingly, Roth can more or less achieve this – whatever this might be – with any random side character in just half a page. Astonishingly, what you initially think is a scene turns out to be nothing but incoherent ranting; then, what appears to be incoherent ranting suddenly transforms into a scene, as vivid as technicolor.

A significant number of remarkable and captivating novels explore profound and often unpleasant emotions. However, as of now, I have only come across a few that dare to touch upon those amorphous and undefined masses of emotions that most authors shy away from. I have witnessed Steinbeck, Faulkner, and Coetzee take on this challenge, and now Roth has joined their ranks.

American Pastoral transcends the typical journey from point A to point B that we are accustomed to. It could be a linear progression towards happiness or a descent into destitution. We might be reminded of the joys of life or the looming reality of death. But what about the spaces in between, the hidden corners and crevices? That's where American Pastoral truly shines. It delves into the hazy, strange, and non-partisan problems that lie beneath the surface. Reading it doesn't always feel great. I like to think of it as an acquired taste, similar to developing a palate for complex flavors rather than the simple, feel-good sweetness of pulp fiction. I took my time with it, reflecting on it, grappling with its ideas, experiencing both boredom and entertainment in equal measure. Now, as I look back, I think about the characters in the novel that I have come to know so well, and the interpersonal problems that are all too familiar to us all.

The broken glass on the cover of the book is a powerful symbol that tells the entire story. Roth is determined to shatter our illusions of the idyllic life that awaits us if only we follow the right path and pay our dues. The bucolic scene of a cottage with our children playing and laughing, our partner smiling peacefully as we enjoy a glass of wine, the sun setting, and the temperature just right - this is the life we all dream of, isn't it? We are certain that we will achieve this perfect life. But the truth is, there are no guarantees. I渴望 the pastoral life that Roth描绘s in the book, and perhaps I will even manage to attain it. But even then, there is no assurance that I will be able to hold onto it.

In terms of narration, Roth似乎 employs a sleight of hand technique. At first, it seems like a story about Seymour Levov, but I was constantly aware that Nathan Zuckerman was the de facto narrator. Unless, of course, I completely misinterpreted that aspect, which is entirely possible.

Finally, I find it incredibly sad that the widening cracks in the characters' perfect lives become too much for them to bear. This is evident through their constant reliving of memories. Almost half of the book is set in the past, a time that was seemingly better. It serves as a reminder that even the most seemingly perfect lives are often filled with hidden pain and turmoil.

This is the best thing I've read this year!

It truly stands out among all the other materials I've come across.

The content is not only engaging but also thought-provoking.

It has the power to capture the reader's attention from the very beginning and keep them hooked until the end.

The author's writing style is流畅 and easy to understand, yet it still manages to convey deep and profound ideas.

I found myself completely immersed in the story, experiencing a wide range of emotions along the way.

Whether it's the excitement of the plot twists or the tenderness of the character relationships, everything is presented in a masterful way.

I highly recommend this piece to anyone looking for a great read.

It's definitely a must-read and will leave you with a lasting impression.

In the past years, before she started complaining about capitalism, Susskind had another complaint.

The translation is full of spelling and grammar mistakes, is clumsy, and incorrect. The cover design is meaningless, and the layout is incomplete. Even the English title of the book on the back cover is misspelled, and the author's name on the cover is wrongly typed. The poor woman who undertakes the translation of Philip Roth in her twenties. May God turn our fate for the better.

This description presents a rather negative picture of the translation and related aspects. It emphasizes the various flaws and mistakes, which can have a significant impact on the quality and reception of the work. The mention of the woman's age and the plea to God add a touch of pathos and hope for improvement. Overall, it highlights the importance of careful attention to detail and quality in the translation and production process.

I read the first 200 pages of this novel doubled over, with my intestines twisted in a knot.

It was an excruciating experience, as if I was being physically tortured by the words on the page.

For the next 100 pages, I held the book limply in my hand, reading it while crouched in a fetal position.

The story was so intense that it felt like it was consuming me from the inside out.

I think I lost a tooth on page 400.

Reading this book is not as simple as not being able to avert your eyes from the train wreck.

No, it also involves gathering the bloody victims from the accident, transporting them alone to the ER, and then performing the surgeries, unqualified, when you find no doctors on hand.

This novel was brutal, ghastly, and quite disturbing.

I could never read it again.

Despite all of that, I'm giving it 4 stars for Roth's bold, experienced writing and the scope of the story.

His ability to create such a vivid and harrowing world is truly remarkable, and I can't help but be impressed by his craftsmanship.

However, the content was just too much for me to handle, and I'm not sure if I would recommend this book to others.

It's a difficult read, but one that will stay with you long after you've finished it.

This is the most famous one among the trilogy, and yet, it is the one that I liked the least.

I had high expectations for this particular installment, especially considering its reputation. However, as I delved deeper into the story, I found myself growing increasingly disappointed.

The plot seemed to lack the excitement and innovation that I had come to expect from the series. It felt somewhat formulaic and predictable, which took away a significant amount of the enjoyment for me.

Moreover, the characters didn't seem to have the same depth and complexity as in the previous books. They appeared to be one-dimensional and lacked the ability to truly engage and captivate me.

Overall, while this book may be highly regarded by many, it simply didn't live up to my personal standards. It was a letdown, especially when compared to the other two books in the trilogy.

A Captivating Story...

The Swedish-American Jewish superstar American football player marries the beautiful Catholic princess of New Jersey, and they have a daughter who is extremely beautiful and intelligent. They live a perfect life. Although the man has extraordinary qualities, he is far from arrogance and pride. He is kind, hardworking in his work, loves his family, enjoys wealth and a diverse personality, and is loyal to his wife and family. His wife, not content with being a beauty queen, has a strong personality, intelligence, charm, and self-confidence. She even hates the description of a beauty queen and flees from it, starting a special project of hers, which is raising cows!!!!!

Things progress as usual until the beloved daughter is diagnosed with epilepsy. The parents try to solve the problem in various ways. Then, the Vietnam War breaks out, and their 16-year-old son participates in this war. Then, something happens that turns this family's life upside down. The daughter detonates a bomb in a store, and a doctor from their neighbors becomes a victim.

From this point, the story takes place inside the Swede's mind as he tries to understand the reasons that led his daughter to do what she did. We follow him between his life before marriage in the late 1940s, the time of the bomb explosion in the late 1960s, and then five years after the bomb. It presents the events of his life, his relationship with his parents, the circumstances of his marriage, his confrontation with his father and brother who betray him, his love for his wife, and their impact on what happened to their daughter.

The story is full of many surprises and events, analyzing the characters and revealing their hidden aspects. It talks about American life and the Vietnam War and describes in detail the business of glove-making that was common at that time because the Swede inherited this business from his father, in which they prospered.