I have a rather hazy memory. When I was a teenager, probably around 16 or 17, I first read "Portnoy's Complaint".

I either carried my paperback copy with me to my grandmother's condo or perhaps just mentioned to her that I was reading the book. Oh, what a blunder that was. She was extremely displeased with my choice of reading material and didn't hesitate to let me know.

This was many years before Philip Roth won the Pulitzer Prize, which made him more respectable in the eyes of the American Jewish community.

To be honest, though, even if he had already won the Pulitzer at that time, Grammy likely still would have regarded "Portnoy's Complaint", and probably anything else by Roth, as a shanda fur die goyim and something best avoided by her grandson.

As an already somewhat lapsed Jew at that time, I found the novel to be hilarious, shocking, and frighteningly accurate, albeit a bit exaggerated.

Now, at more than double the age I was then, I decided to revisit "Portnoy's Complaint" for the first time. Partly, I wanted to see if it had held up for me after all these years, and partly to compare it with the few other Roth novels I've read in recent years, such as "The Anatomy Lesson" and "The Plot Against America".

So, what did I discover? As an older and now completely lapsed Jew, I still found "Portnoy's Complaint" to be hilarious, shocking, and frighteningly accurate, with a touch of exaggeration. It also towers above the other Roth novels I've read.

As far as I can tell, there's "Portnoy's Complaint", and then there's everything else he's written.

I won't bore you with too many details about the book's content here. Either you've already read it and don't need me to tell you about it, or you should read the book yourself, and I don't want to spoil it for you by recounting the best parts.

(Frankly, the whole book is great, and singling out the best parts would be a rather daunting task.)

But I do have one caveat: I'm not sure how well this book would resonate with anyone who didn't grow up as a male in a Jewish family in America.

I'm not saying that other people shouldn't read this book – they should – but I am saying that much of both its comedy and its meaningfulness is likely to be lost on all readers who aren't male American Jews.

As just one small example, only such a reader could truly appreciate the brilliance of a suicide note, from a son to his mother, mentioned in passing:

Mrs. Blumenthal called. Please bring your mah-jongg rules to the game tonight. Ronald

"Portnoy's Complaint" is filled with profanity (including judicious use of the dreaded c-word), sexual depravity (and not just the famous meat scene), and ethnic stereotypes (including a hilarious depiction of the home life of WASPs).

I've seen some people criticize this book for being too much of a comedy, too prone to Borscht Belt-style humor. Well, yes, but so what? The book is intended as a comedy, and the entire novel even ends with a punchline – and not just any punchline, but a punchline that wouldn't be out of place on a Catskills stage.

Anyhow, there's no need for me to say much more about "Portnoy's Complaint". Plus, I find it easier to write lengthy reviews of books I hate than ones I love wholeheartedly.

Much like Alexander Portnoy, I'm not very good at being positive and upbeat. I'm just glad that the book held up as well as it did for me after all these years.

Sorry, Grammy.

Seghe, seghe, seghe.

In this book, there are a lot of saws. Do you remember the voyeurism combined with the saws in this book? Well, forget about it.

“But Pietro, in this book there are the same things, why is it okay here and not there?”

By now we are on familiar terms, you can call me Pie.

“But Pie, in this book there are-“

The book is a long monologue of Alex Portnoy visiting his psychologist. His life has always been tied to an overly anxious mother and an overly sick imaginary father who can't poop. And for some reason that I think can remind us of the adolescence of all us boys, our Alex starts to get into saws. But guys, a lot of saws.

The problem is that Alex would like to do... what shall I tell you? I'll tell you, anyway it's intuited right from the start... Alex would like to indirectly be his mother.

And in this book, despite the absurdity of the situations in which our Alex gets himself into, it works. Why?

Because the protagonist knows very well that he is sick and accepts it by telling it with open sincerity without giving himself bourgeois airs that he knows he doesn't have.

Philip Roth shows himself to be a writer as he should be. He takes grotesque and super cringe situations that cause tension in the reader, and breaks the tension with the exaggerated irony that accompanies his entire monologue. Lolita, for example, follows a similar pattern.

Well done, Philip.

The only off-key note - more for Pietrino than for the coherence of the story - is the style of these extremely long chapters in which Alex hammers the reader with an enormous uninterrupted stream of consciousness, which in the long run slightly bothered me. But anyway it is undoubtedly a highly recommended book.

Also because as I see it, Portnoy's Complaint winks a strong eye and I think it is in all respects the 2.0 version of another pillar of 20th-century contemporary reading that deals with similar themes. Perhaps less elegant and with the accelerator pedal always pressed to the floor, but I noticed a strong similarity with...

Are you thinking of the same book that I'm thinking of?

Write it in a comment below, because anyway we are thinking of the same thing.

Peace Off

It has recently come to my attention that my book reviews often deviate from the actual book.

I wonder why one would want to know about the book when all they have to do is click on the blurb and then engage in fascinating reading about, say, where I bought my milk last Tuesday or my most vivid childhood memory.

Yet, I strive to please, so here is my sincere attempt to tell you something about this book. The book seems to be about sex, guilt, and more sex and guilt, with mom's fault and dad's fault thrown in.

Now that I've, no doubt, piqued your interest and compelled you to pick up the book, let me share some of my personal thoughts. Growing up conservative Christian, I'm no stranger to guilt. I can relate to the excessive guilt in the book.

Guilt has taught me several things. For example, if I don't clean up the clutter, someone else will have to. Flour is not cheap, and ingredients should not be wasted. Pre-marital sex is bad, and being gay is even worse.

I found the book hilarious in its familiarity. Some passages that particularly amused me include when he ate pudding he shouldn't have and when he talked to his "doctor."

Beyond the humor, I also appreciated other aspects of the story. I loved the line about sticking his dick up their backgrounds.

In conclusion, I think I nearly cried at one point, and this might indicate hormonal fluctuation or that I'm a sensitive genius. Regardless, I felt sorry for the protagonist at one point.

And thus concludes my thorough look at Portnoy's complaints and the ever-present "ME, ME, ME" in my review.

3.5 ależ to szalona książka

It is truly an amazing and perhaps a bit crazy book. The story it tells takes the reader on a wild ride through a world full of unexpected twists and turns. The characters are vividly brought to life, each with their own unique personalities and quirks. The author's writing style is engaging and captivating, making it difficult to put the book down once you start reading.

Whether it's the thrilling plot, the richly detailed settings, or the complex relationships between the characters, this book has something for everyone. It challenges the reader's imagination and takes them on a journey they will never forget.

Overall, 3.5 ależ to szalona książka is a must-read for anyone who loves a good adventure and a bit of craziness in their books. It will leave you on the edge of your seat, eagerly turning the pages to see what happens next.

When Philip Roth sent Portnoy's Complaint to the press, his chance of winning the Nobel Prize became zero. The book caused a huge scandal. The puritans, humorless individuals, and Kabbalah symbolism experts protested. "This is the book that all anti-Semites have prayed to be published," exclaimed the scholar Gershom Scholem in an angry review.

Many journalists hypothesized that Philip Roth had gone crazy. Others reported that he was already in the hospital, in a straitjacket. Some rabbis demanded his expulsion from society. Indeed, the author had not portrayed him very sympathetically in the book (cf. pp. 71, 185-186). The novel became a bestseller: in 1969, 450,000 copies were sold.

There are novels in which the hero confesses (and justifies) himself in front of a judge, the most famous being Lolita, Nabokov's novel, but I wouldn't skip Hocus pocus by Kurt Vonnegut jr. either. In Portnoy's Complaint, the protagonist confesses to a psychoanalyst, the new type of priest in the 20th century, and awaits a precise diagnosis. Philip Roth uses as an epigraph to the book a passage from the essay "The Uncircumcised Penis," published by psychologist O. Spielvogel in a prestigious international psychoanalysis journal, a passage that describes the essence of the hero's suffering (Alex is Spielvogel's client):

"The patient does not obtain real sexual satisfaction either from fantasies or from the erotic act itself, these rather causing him an overwhelming feeling of shame and the fear of not being punished [by castration]" (p. 5).

Alex Portnoy does not propose "free associations," but tells, furious with himself and humanity, his life: he has already reached 33 years old, the age of fundamental questions. Even if in front of a psychoanalyst you can use all the words in the vocabulary, the language is obscene and, from a certain moment on, boring. The story only gets to the point in the second part, when Alex Portnoy became an official at the New York City Hall and had some real erotic experiences (Kay Campbell = The She-Devil, Sarah Maulsby = The Pilgrim, Mary Jane Reed = The Midget).

Surely, the novel is challenging and excessive. But it was published in the era of "sexual liberation" (the 1960s-1970s of the last century) and, through its problematic, it contributed to the understanding that, in human life, Eros has a much more important role than the puritans and moralists of both sexes believed. Through the voice of Portnoy, centuries of systematic repression of sex and the body are avenged.

Roth's novel is, of course, also a satire on psychoanalysis and the way of going, whenever you feel a twinge in the amygdala area of the brain, to a renowned specialist. If you don't sense the sharp irony of the author, it is easy to misinterpret the book, to confuse fiction with reality.

But what is poor Portnoy looking for with the psychoanalyst? He doesn't really know either. He didn't have a traumatic childhood (he exaggerates), he was a prize-winner, he found out that he has an IQ of 158, the same as Einstein's, he got an honorable job. The fact that his parents (possessive, of course) sometimes hit him on the head is not a reason to become a neurotic. No one becomes a neurotic just because they were repeatedly called to mass, even if they stuffed themselves with pastries in the city and had stomachaches.

In the end, Portnoy's Complaint records the futile search for a non-existent culprit. Alex's revolt has no precise source. It is visceral. I doubt that Dr. Spielvogel will succeed in curing him...

The case of an American Jew caught between the perfection demanded by his parents and personal freedom is truly touching and universal!

Alexander, for me at least, is not the typical living Jew in the US, oppressed by a highly exemplary education. Nevertheless, his parents have chosen a path for their son. The latter, finding this life dull and exacting, throws himself into the most insatiable sexuality (starting from childhood). He is a universal being who exists everywhere in the world. He could be Christian, Jewish, or Muslim. However, he doubts the belief and the significance of this compatibility and these morals. He no longer has faith in the foundation of the family or marriage.

So, Alexander's monologue in front of his psychiatrist (or rather the reader) continues with humor and a Roth-esque style - childhood stories (being a "big masturbator") and sex stories (especially with the Monkey). Alexander hesitates between living according to his family's expectations or the free life that eludes him due to the impossibility of making a choice. As a result, he has no real experience; he only has an image, a pale copy of life. Additionally, he develops a very pessimistic view of marriage, a tragicomic vision!

Alexander touches and captivates us with his perspective on things. He doesn't deny his roots or hate his parents but opposes certain practices or beliefs.

Roth is able to present the soul of an American Jew without stereotypes, with excellent control over his character's personality and humor (I wouldn't say it's like Woody Allen) that is full of irony (original).

This is the book that catapulted Philip Roth into both fame and scandal.

Portnoy, a mother-obsessed sexual maniac, is actually quite uproariously funny. Who else but the author of the equally darkly humorous Sabbath's Theater would have his character engage in such a bizarre act as masturbating with a cow liver? This book and the subsequent reaction to it served as the impetus for the Nathan Zuckerman series of books, which allude back to the public's response with a mixture of awe and dismay. The book itself is a classic, exquisitely written with Roth's unique literary finesse.

If I were to draw a comparison between Roth and another writer fixated on onanism, I might select France's Houllebecq. However, Houllebecq seems to struggle to string together more than two paragraphs before delving into such themes. In contrast, Roth has an uncanny ability to truly inhabit his characters, breathing life into them and making them feel like real, living beings. I found that Houllebecq's characters lacked depth and a fundamental understanding of humanity. They are merely cogs in a masturbatory wheel. While the wheel itself is vividly described, the overall tone is so nihilistic and fatalist. This is one reason why he is favored by the extreme right, who decry decadence and believe that God or their conceptions of right and wrong should be imposed, as they assume that given free will, humans will inevitably be depraved. Roth's perspective is less cynical. He acknowledges the presence of evil in the world, but attributes it to conscious choices rather than the world's inherent immorality or some archaic notion of fate.

RIP (1933 - 2018). One of America's literary titans has left our midst.

If we want to believe the author, "Portnoy's Complaint" (it could also be "Portnoy's Lament", both refer to the novel and the English "Complaint" has both meanings) had no intention of achieving any kind of Jewish-parental catharsis but rather a liberation from traditional narrative forms. It may be that it's not right to contradict someone who, unfortunately, can no longer defend himself, but I think he must have had a great time attacking a certain way of feeling Jewish, whether it was far from his own or not.

We are in the 1960s and what was then considered dirty or repulsive in terms of sex may no longer be so much or may no longer amaze us in the same way, and yet the controversy will always follow this lustful Alexander Portnoy, a Jewish lawyer, of great intelligence and professional success, obsessed with sex with non-Jewish girls, "shikse", who possess the halo of depravity that being the dark and prohibited object of desire attributed to them in their community confers, and therefore the shortest path to escape from his Jewish condition, addicted to compulsive masturbation and oral sex, allergic to the commitment of fidelity that is almost always imposed in a relationship, sentimentally skeptical...

He is an apostate and critical of everything specifically Jewish, without this meaning any kind of sympathy with Christianity which he qualifies as supine stupidity, and pathologically prone to blaming his mother, a "worry-generating machine", for always burdening him with her finicky moral conscience, and his weak and constipated father for leaving him in her hands without providing him with any male model to counterbalance the castrating figure of his mother.
And what better way to get out everything he had inside, since as a Jew confession was completely out of the question, than the uncensored and unvarnished release that a psychoanalyst promotes. Here we have, therefore, Alexander Portnoy lying on the couch, unable to manage his life, overwhelmed by shameful desire, with his conscience as his main enemy and invaded by guilt in a delirious, dirty, perverse, provocative and, I have taken a long time to say it, extremely funny monologue.

This started out as quite funny.

At first, it was light-hearted and brought a smile to everyone's face.

However, as time went on, the joke just kept going and going.

It began to wear thin and lose its charm.

What was once amusing became tiresome and repetitive.

People started to roll their eyes and wish it would come to an end.

The excessive prolonging of the joke took away its initial impact and made it more of a burden than a source of entertainment.

In the end, it was clear that the joke had gone on way too long and should have been stopped much earlier.

Maybe if it had been cut short, it would have left a better impression and still been remembered fondly.

But as it stands, it will likely be remembered more for its overstaying of welcome than for its initial humor.

Nu vã lãsați pãcãliți de verva și de umorul celor aproximativ 250 de pagini! Poate că sunt capitole precum "Laba" sau "Mort dupã pi-dã" care vă pot păcăli. Dar trebuie să depășiti rușinile și falsele prejudecăți și să vă lăsați mintea liberă pentru a înțelege Complexul lui Portnoy. Cu puțin noroc, veți descoperi Poanta.

"Dar, cel puțin, atât cât am trãit, am trãit a-ntâia!" - acest lucru, scris pe pagina 251, este ceva nemaipomenit. În această carte, există multe lucruri interesante și surprinzătoare care vă vor face să vă gândiți în mod diferit. Nu vă puteți lăsa împiedicați de lucrurile aparent neobișnuite sau de umorul puțin ciudat. În schimb, trebuie să vă deschideți mintea și să vă lăsați influențați de povestea aceasta.

În final, după ce ați citi această carte, veți avea o perspectivă nouã asupra vieții și asupra faptelor din jurul nostru. Și poate că vei descoperi ceva despre tine însuți, ceva pe care nu l-ați cunoscut până acum. Așa că, nu ezitați să citiți Complexul lui Portnoy și să vă descoperi lumea lui Philip Roth.

The title of this book is indeed very apt. The entire content is a complaint made by Alexander Portnoy to his psychiatrist. Oh, boy!

Initially, I added this book to my to-be-read list because Joe Goldberg, the well-read psychopath in Caroline Kepnes' "You" and "Hidden Bodies", lists it as his favorite book. It's a rather twisted path that led me to Philip Roth's infamous, sexually explicit work which caused a huge stir when it was published in 1969.

Although the book is cleverly written and quite funny in some parts, the rant-like nature of it started to wear me out after a while. Soon, it became clear that the story arc wasn't going in a direction that interested me.

Portnoy mainly complains about his overbearing Jewish parents, especially his mother (can you say Oedipus Complex?), his Jewish identity, his attraction to non-Jewish girls, and his inability to choose a nice girl and have a normal relationship. And the cycle goes on and on. There are some really over-the-top scenes that depict him masturbating furiously (with successful results) while his mother screams from the other side of the door.

This was my introduction to Philip Roth. Yup. And I'm still willing and interested in reading more. Now, what does that say about me, Doctor?

Her zamanki gibi ağır spoiler içerir.

" Kadir-i mutlak tanrı hazretlerini ciddi biçimde rencide etmeden bir bardak sütün yanında bir salamlı sandviç yemeyi bile düşünemezdim. Bir de öyle otuzbiri çekip çekip fışkırtmakla vicdanıma nasıl bir yük bindirdiğimi düşünün hele! "

Portnoy’un Feryadı, edebiyat tarihinin en ağzı bozuk, terbiyesiz ve provakatif eserlerinden biri. Türkiye’de haklı bir şekilde yargılanıp haksız bir şekilde beraat edilmesi bunun göstergelerinden biri. Merak etmeyin, ağzının bozukluğu üçüncü sınıf yeraltı edebiyatı argosundan kaynaklı değil. 1968’in Amerika’sında yazılmış olmasına rağmen, 50 yıl sonra bile biz hala bunları ne konuşacak ne de yazacak düzeye gelmiş değiliz. Nihayetinde, Türkiye’de cinsellik mevzusu taciz, tecavüz, zina, bermuda, şeytan üçgeninde yaşanan, ayıp yorgan altında olur ile deyimleşen bir halet içinde ruhiyede icra edilmeye devam ediyor. Ve bu kitabın edepsizliği ve açıklığı maalesef bize fazla. Neyse, Portnoy’le birlikte hepimizin ortak feryadına biraz yakından bakmaya çalışalım. Öncelikle, psikanalistin divanından figanını haykıran karakterimizin idi ve onu baskılayan toplumsal yapıya yakından bakalım.

Kitap, ilk gençliği ve olgunluğunu 45 - 68 yılları arasında Newark’da Yahudi geleneklerinin baskın olduğu bir ortamda geçiren 30’lu yaşların başında başarılı, toplumda saygın bir yere gelmiş, arzuları, dürtüleri ve onu baskılayan yapıların doğurduğu utanç duygusu ile baş edemeyen Portnoy’un psikanalistin divanından yükselen feryadının monolog yöntemi ile aktarılması ile oluşuyor. Bu biçim, yazarın anlatmak istediği meseleye cuk diye oturduğunu söyleyebilirim. Biz kitap boyunca psikanalisti görmeyiz ve monolog sorularla bölünmez. Bu ise karakterin dolup taşmışlığını vurgulamak için işlevsel oluyor eserde.

Portnoy’un Amerika’sı, çekirdek ailenin banliyöyede icat olduğu, ilerlemenin, gelişmenin ve toplumsal ödevlerin bireyi belirlediği bir dünyayı ve bir de buna Yahudi inancının şekillendirdiği bir yığın kural ve kaide eklenince karşımıza çıkar. Süperegosu, istekler ve kurallar çatışması ile bölünmüş öznenin bunalımlarını çıkarıyor. “Her yerde hazır ve nazır” bir anne, doğru düzgün sıçamayan sigortacı bir baba ve sütyeni ie fantezilere dalınan bir abla. Kitabın temel derdi bastırılmış bir cinsellik olsa da, yazar aynı zamanda Mc Carthy Amerika’sının yasaklı konularına da değinmeden geçmiyor. Portnoy’un Komünist eniştesi, okulda söylenen Enternasyoneler ve ileride karakterimizin yürüttüğü insan hakları ve ayrımcılık karşıtı çalışmaları bize Portnoy’un döneme ve zamanın ruhuna uymayan karakterinin diğer yönlerini de çiziyor.

“Kolumu sallasam ayıplancak bir ayıba çarpıyor.” Kitap, lineer bir hat izlememekle birlikte, bize hikayeyi en baştan anlatmaya başlıyor. Çocukluk anılarında karşımıza “Tanıdığı en unutulmaz şahsiyet” her şeyi bilen, her yerde hazır, dominant bir anne karakteri çıkıyor. Örneklerine sıkça rastladığımız oğluşuna prens muamelesi çeken bir anne. Babanın etkisiz eleman olduğu evde her şey anneden soruluyor, oğul annenin yasağı ile şekilleniyor. Bu çocukluk anılarından elimizde bıçağı ile oğlunu tehdit eden ( “bunun bir şaka olduğunu düşünmemi mi bekliyordu”) anne ve bir testisini uzun bir süre kaybetmesi kalıyor ve bu bize kastrasyona götürüyor. Hadım edilmemiş ama onun korkusunu hisseden bir çocuk ve ergenliğe adım atınca o cehennemi ortamdan çıkışı çavuşu tokatlamada buluyor, hem de durmaksızın. Ancak bu cici, neredeyse Einstein çocuğumuz, bir ayıp ve felaket korkusu olmadan bu işi de beceremiyor. Masturbasyona başladığına kanser olacağını, karşı cinsle (Yahudi olmayan bir şikse) ilk yakınlaştığında ömür boyu sakat kalacağını (kay kay bölümü) ve ilk cinsel deneyiminde (evet, yine büyük bir günah, kız Yahudi değil) kör kalacağına inanıyor. Bizde de masturbasyon boy kısalığı muhabetti benzeri. Bu cinsel deneyim ve ardından gelen felaket beklentisi kitap boyunca sürüyor. İFK başkanın başsız cesedi, telekızın evinde bulundu, Cemiyetin yeni gözdesi, yahudininkini diplerken boğuldu ve daha ne gazete başlıkları.. “AZAT EDELİM YİD’İ, GERİ VERELİM ONA İD’İ”.

Dört bir yanı tabularla çevrilmiş, yasak, günah, ayıp ile sınırı çizilmiş hayatında ilk yasağı çiğnemek karakterimizin id ile süperego arasındaki gel gitli ilişkiyi bir üst boyuta çıkartır. Bu bölümün öncesinde “Yahudi Yahudi Yahudi! Kusacağım artık acı ceken Yahudilerin destanından. Hadi bana bir iyilik edin, canımdan aziz halkım ve acılarla dolu mirasınızı acılarla dolu götünüze sokun” diyerek özgürleşme pratiğinin kökenlerine dair ipuçlarıda vermektedir. Bireyin arzusu ile barışması, olduğu her neyse ona sahip çıkması üst anlatıyı boşa düşürmekle mümkündür (bu kitabın yasaklanması için bir neden daha) ancak bu atarlanmakla olacak iş değil, maalesef ki Portnoy bu kimliğe ve baskılanmasına tekrar tekrar dönecektir. Kitap boyunca dikkat çeken bir hususda öteki olmak. Portnoy için, en baştan yasaklanmış anglo sakson dünyası bir vahayı temsil etmekte. O beyazlar dünyasından kaldıracağı beyaz kadınlar için, o lanet Yahudi burnu olmasa neler yapacaktır, kim bilir. Özelikle kaykay bölümünde beyaz kızlara yaklaşmak için kurduğu hayaller bana Fanon’un Siyah Deri Beyaz Maskeler kitabını hatırlattı. Arada bu kitabı da önermiş olayım.

Kitabın önemli karakterlerinden biri de Maymun lakaplı manken kızımız. Portnoy arzuladığı bütün fantezilere maymun ile ulaşırken bile “eksik bir şey” kalır geride. Daha en baştan arzusu sakatlanan ve bunu makulleştirmek için bahaneler arayan karakter, saf arzusu ile yüzleşince gerisin geri süperegosuna sığınır. Ve bunun için elinde güçlü doneler var, kız saf cehalet mirim, New York Belediyesinin parlayan yıldızı bu cehaletle tatmin olacak diye kendini daha ne kadar küçültebilir. Kişinin arzusundan kaçmak için sığınacağı binbir bahane vardır ve halk arasında buna yemedi denir. Neyse, ağzımı bozmadan devam edeyim ve sonlara geleyim.

Maymun’un maymun ettiği sevgili Portnoy’umuz, soluğu vaat edilmiş topraklarda alır ancak bölümün başlığı sürgündür. O Yahudi çocuk en sonunda öteki olmadığı, herkesin ona benzediği kardeş topraklardadır ancak vaat edilmiş topraklarda da işler yolunda gitmez. O azgın teke İsrail sınırları içinde kaldıramaz, bundan iyi sembolizm mi olur! Çünkü ensest büyük bir günahtır ve kimse annesinin kutsal toprağında kaldıramaz. Maymun ile sabahlara kadar üçlü yapar ama İsrail’de en fazla hayırlı bir kısmet buluruz.

Aslında, dün kitap kulübünde tartışırken dört yıldız veririm diye düşünüyordum, hatta yazının başına geçerken de aynı fikirdeydim ama sanırım konuştukça kendimi gaza getirdim ve edebi yetkinliği bir yana, bu açık sözlülüğe beş yıldız vermeden edemedim.

Son olarak; bu kitabı okumak isteyen ya da okuyup Portnoy’a kızan, köpüren ya da halden anlayan okur, Horatius’un Antik yunan’da Marx’ın Kapital’in Almanca baskısının önsözünde dediği gibi De Tabula Fabura Narratur.