"Enough being a nice Jewish boy. Let’s put the id back in yid” - Alex Portnoy

Portnoy's Complaint: "A disorder in which strongly felt ethical and altruistic impulses are perpetually warring with extreme sexual longings, often of a perverse nature."

I have spent a couple of intense years reading Roth, rereading some, but mostly delving into works I had not read before. Recently, Roth passed away, RIP. I then read his last four short books and decided to come full circle back to what I think was my first and perhaps the most read of his books, Portnoy’s Complaint. It reads almost like a joyous comic farce.

As with many of his other books, it starts with a male boy character, Alex, who struggles mightily with his Jewish Newark working class identity, especially as a teenager with his parents. Roth, as in most of his works, does not shy away from his character's sexual life. Instead, he celebrates it in all its Rabelaisian glory, analyzing and sometimes problematizing it.

Portnoy’s Complaint is known as the Great American Novel of Teenaged Masturbation. In the book, Alex Portnoy, not having sex at 14, calls himself “the Raskolnikov of jerking off,” which is how the book comically begins. Later, there is a lot of sex, often humorously and shockingly explicit. But his more serious subject is what it means to be Jewish in America. While making fun of himself, he also satirizes his fellow Jews, sometimes brutally.

In 1969, after 2 - 3 fairly tame books (in terms of explicitness), Portnoy’s Complaint emerged, building Roth's literary reputation. This famously “dirty book” then exploded onto the literary scene, getting him denounced by Jewish leaders and the community, yet becoming an instant bestseller and critical smash. The world, or at least America, was going through a sexual revolution. Alex, a top student and a 33-year-old good liberal working for Mayor John Lindsay, is still lost personally, especially in his relationships with women.

The book toggles back and forth between Alex the masturbator at 14 and Alex the sexually libertine but sadly lost 33-year-old. It's a case of arrested development, one of many Roth books that explore sex, mortality, and cultural identity. For Roth (or perhaps just many of his main male characters), to be sexual is to be fully alive, while having it denied is a form of living death. Yet, it sometimes seems to be killing him as he obsesses about being Jewish and an atheist in America.

The book begins with a humorous look at Alex's upbringing by neurotic Jewish parents - a domineering mother Sophie and a nebbish father. The only thing he seems to have control over is his penis. Fast forward to age 33, and he is alone, childless, and serial dating various goyish blond women. He seems to want to shed his Jewish identity. But in Davenport, Iowa, he discovers his discomfort with Midwestern Christian America too. Later, he pursues an Israeli Jew, but that doesn't work out either. It's like a dialectical narrative, going back and forth between being anguished over his cultural background, not wanting to be a traditional Jew, and not wanting to be mistreated as a Jew.

Portnoy’s Complaint, in my second reading decades later, I still found very funny, though it may have slipped a bit from my list of Roth's absolute greats like the American trilogy. However, it is a manic, often hilarious, sometimes tiring series of rants (interspersed with comic Yiddishisms), a monologue, a confession from a seemingly arrogant yet sometimes self-deprecating, lost soul. It creates one of the great literary characters of the twentieth century, still a source of shock, outrage, and humor, and a “dirty book” that is very much a literary accomplishment.

Earlier today, I found myself in a rather embarrassing situation. I had boldly stated that I had enjoyed all the books written by Philip Roth. However, it wasn't long before I realized my oversight. I had completely forgotten about "Portnoy's Complaint."

There is a widely held belief that to write well, one must write about what one knows. Based on this principle, I can firmly say that I did not like this book. Sadly, this doesn't mean that I will be able to write about it with great skill. Philip Roth is undoubtedly the king of writing about himself or a variation thereof. His works are like giant piles of books that explore his identity as a male, Jewish, and American.

This particular book delves into several of Roth's favorite themes. It explores what it means to be a male, Jewish, and American Jewish male. It also touches on a mild obsession with the penis and includes moderate biographical references throughout the work of fiction. While these topics may be of great interest to some, they did not resonate with me. As someone who does not fit into any of these categories, I simply could not connect with the book.

The book is a monologue of sexual repression, told from the perspective of Alexander Portnoy. He is a young man who is so tightly bound to his mother that he has only managed to free his right hand and his libido. Given the subject matter, I think it would be more accurately described as a "manologue."

For many, the highlight of the book is Alexander Portnoy's rather unusual sexual adventure with a piece of raw liver. This encounter between "man meat" and "cold meat" is enough to give anyone disturbing nightmares about visiting the deli. To make matters worse, the misused liver is later served to the family as part of a traditional Jewish recipe. Yuck! And let's not even mention the special ingredient in the schmaltz and gribenes.

What a dirty little book!

It is truly astonishing to think that Mr. Roth had the courage to pen something so scandalous half a century ago. His work challenges the norms and conventions of society, pushing the boundaries of what is considered acceptable.

This book is not for the faint of heart. It delves into the darker side of human nature, exploring themes such as lust, desire, and morality. The language used is raw and unapologetic, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Despite its controversial nature, this book has received numerous accolades and has become a classic in the literary world. It serves as a reminder that art has the power to shock, inspire, and provoke thought.

Kudos to Mr. Roth for his bold and innovative approach to writing. His work continues to be relevant today, sparking conversations and debates about the role of literature in society.

One can easily understand why the novel was so shocking and even scandalous upon its release. It is a work that is both outrageously bold and amusingly irreverent towards the widely accepted values of the time. I found myself laughing out loud on many occasions, but I must admit that there were also times when I felt slightly bored.

I have never been to a psychoanalytic session, and I truly hope that life will spare me that dubious pleasure in the future as well. However, reading this novel feels like furtively eavesdropping on the confessions of an anguished and neuritic patient, in the style of Woody Allen, as he倾诉 to his doctor. One could say that there is nothing funny about having to confess one's personal life to strangers, and that is obviously true. But the way Roth makes his protagonist do that is often hilarious, well, for the most part.

This novel is, of course, a satire. It satirizes religion, sex, tradition, Jews, parents, upbringing, what it means to be a Jew in modern society, and how being Jew affects the entire life of our protagonist. Roth is scathing, hard-edged, and completely unconcerned with political correctness, mannerliness, and all that jazz called Jewishness. But, by Lord, how many times can one read about masturbating Alex Portnoy without feeling fatigued? Poor dick, cough, cough, I mean poor Alex.

**MUSEO CONTEMPORANEO DELLE GEREMIADI E LAMENTAZIONI**

Richard Benjamin portrays Alex Portnoy in “Portnoy’s Complaint”, the 1972 film directed by Ernest Lehman. But what exactly is this Alex Portnoy complaining about? Why does he go on for two hundred pages with this litany of lamentations? His psychiatrist, Dr. Spielvogel, who is of course kosher, will surely be in stitches by the time he finishes listening to Alex’s tale – because Philip/Alex is truly hilarious. By the way, is it the same Philip Roth who wrote the wonderful “Pastorale americana”? Here, the tone and the music are completely different – one might believe that his therapist will end up committing suicide by taking a nice dive out the window (as in the tradition of the best of Woody Allen).

Karen Black plays the Monkey. The film was released in Italy with the title “Se non faccio quello non mi diverto” (no comment). Alex grows up in a typical Jewish family, coddled by his mother and father as the male and eldest child, with his sister Hannah (four years older) decidedly relegated to second place. So, there is no dysfunctional family, no lack of affection, no separations, divorces, or abandonments, none of that stuff that a psychotherapist loves to work with. On the contrary, there is an excess of love and too much attention. Why is the thirty-three-year-old Alex Portnoy complaining? (One might think it should be his sister who has something to complain about).
The mother and father of Alex are Lee Grant and Jack Somack (probably the only American actor without a photo on IMDb). “I have no valid reason to cry, but in this family everyone tries to squeeze out a good cry at least once a day.” It is more of a Melodrama family than a Portnoy family: tears, screams, slammed doors, torn-off doorknobs, threats with a weapon (the serrated bread knife), indignant get-ups from the table, all with a lot of affection and love. A perfect “parody of King Lear”, as Alex himself admits, and thus Philip too. The mother tells thirteen-year-old Alex that she could have married another suitor, the king of mustard in New York – implying that for her husband she gave up a much more comfortable life – and Alex wonders how things would have been different with another father: in the sense that the parent could have been different, but Alex’s existence would never have been in doubt.
Alex Portnoy complains. What is Alex’s problem – apart from his persistent masturbation, apart from starting to “play with himself”, as his mother calls it with great annoyance when little Alex is still in the placenta? Does he want a woman, especially if she is “shiksa” (non-Jewish), does he want to stop “trembling in the face of torrid pleasures”, is that why he is complaining? Or is it being Jewish and growing up in a Jewish family? Or perhaps it is shame, the cruelest feeling of April, the cruelest of months? Maybe instead it is that family mantle that from the very beginning pushes and forces little Alex to be cute, a good boy, respectful and obedient and proper. A mantle that suffocates a little, that forces him to keep his wings folded, to fly low, with few ideas in his head, life is above all “sacrifice and privation”, better not to have illusions, closed windows, never a bold gaze, never proud and if possible looking down. A mantle due in part to his mother and father and in part to their Jewish culture.
Roth steps on the pedal, does not back down, spares no word games, searches for, and finds, the comic effect, even resorting to scatology as in what are called “dirty jokes”.

Portnoy's Complaint, when viewed from a historical perspective, it becomes very clear why it could be extremely disturbing. Before the sexual revolution, in terms of both the perception of individual sexual existence, religious elements, and the Freudian approach to configuration, I think it's a special book. From this perspective, it deserves 4 stars. In fact, in terms of the creation and narration of a character like Portnoy and the allusions to Oedipus, it could even deserve 5 stars if I had lived in the US in the 1960s.

However, when I evaluate it now, Roth's perception of absurdity seems excessive. And the secondary characters he depicts are tiring. When reading the book, especially in the beginning sections, I read it with pleasure as if watching a Woody Allen movie, and then it gave the feeling of almost watching American Pie in a state of boredom.

Conclusion:

In general, Portnoy's Complaint has a very American and somewhat vulgar narrative that I didn't like at all. Although Portnoy is a significant book in terms of its historical context, despite all the subtext that Roth implies, his verbose narration has started to become tiring and boring. And as a result, I didn't like Roth or the book at all.

If you are interested in American literature, it is a book that should be read. I just wish Portnoy had been told differently by another author instead of Roth.

Happy reading.

10/7

Some individuals choose to spend their youthful years engaged in the pursuit of knowledge and learning, while others unfortunately waste their precious time on less productive activities such as masturbating.

Well, perhaps one could argue that it might also be a form of rehearsing in a strange way.

As the quote goes, “Dreams? If only they had been! But I don't need dreams, Doctor, that's why I hardly have them – because I have this life instead. With me it all happens in broad daylight!”

Libido and psychoanalysis seem to have been invented in a way that they complement each other, yet unfortunately, they also seem to feed charlatans on both sides. It's a complex and rather concerning situation.

We need to be more discerning and not blindly accept everything that is presented in the name of these concepts.

Maybe it's time to reevaluate and look for more genuine and useful ways to understand human behavior and desires.

Alex Portnoy is in therapy, and it's evident that he truly requires it. However, therapy has seldom been this entertaining, at least from an outsider's perspective.

The reason this book was controversial upon its publication in the 60s is clear. It's brutally honest and confessional about matters that were (and in some cases still are) better left unmentioned in polite society. Bowel movements and masturbation are just the beginning - I don't think there's a single politically correct page in this novel. Roth had the talent to make these topics hilarious, which surely must have confused and startled some prim and proper readers over 40 years ago. None of this seems particularly shocking now, but I constantly tried to envision my grandfather's reaction if he had read this. I'm quite certain he would have blushed, coughed, and then discreetly buried the conspicuous yellow book under his tomato plants. I think overbearing Jewish mothers bear a strong resemblance to overbearing Italian mothers, so I believe it would have hit close to home for him too.

But reading it in 2020, I can't help but feel that Roth was ahead of his time in many aspects. There's a fearlessness in Roth's prose in this book, which one might attribute to the fact that it was his debut novel. Even when he wrote things I strongly disagreed with, such as the casual sexism and homophobia of the 60s, I couldn't help but admire his panache. I feel that panache, like the effective use of symbolism, is something not easily found in more contemporary literature, and that makes me sad. It's a quality that gives life to a story in a very tangible way.

Portnoy is attempting to figure out who he is and how his family background and cultural heritage fit into America. Cultural identity is an incredibly complex and layered thing, and this long monologue that Alex delivers to his therapist provides a sometimes horrifying, endearing, but always fascinating look into the mind of an all-too-human mess of a man. Anyone who has had to deal with an overbearing parent will cringe at the familiarity of the Portnoy family dynamics.

I didn't like it as much as "American Pastoral" and "The Human Stain" - it's clearly not as sophisticated. However, it shows Roth honing his skills rather brilliantly. Even if you don't particularly like Alex, getting to know him so intimately was an unforgettable adventure.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OeRMl...

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Updated May 22, 2018: R.I.P. Philip Roth. He was the author of some truly remarkable works that defined the late 20th century and even extended into the early 21st. His second act was magnificent, and the legacy he leaves behind is truly profound.

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21 Random Thoughts After Reading Philip Roth’s Classic Portnoy’s Complaint 46 Years After Its Controversial Publication

1. I've read several of Philip Roth's books, yet I somehow missed this one that catapulted him to literary fame, or at least notoriety and celebrity, in the late 60s. It seems everyone has read it! Even Don Draper!

2. The young Roth was undeniably funny. His writing could make you laugh out loud, text your best friends your favorite lines, and even come close to making you wet your pants.

3. However, he was also rude and crude, and at times, it made me think twice about sharing certain passages. But then again, it's important to remember that it's a fictional character, Alexander Portnoy, who is saying these wild things.

4. Portnoy is a 30-something Jewish civil liberties attorney with a major mother complex. Interestingly, Roth was born in the same year and city as his protagonist, but they are not the same person.

5. The book's structure is brilliant. It's essentially an extended monologue by Alex to his psychotherapist as he tries to figure out why he's so messed up. His rant includes vivid descriptions of his sexual fantasies and fetishes, memories of his chronic childhood masturbation habits, and how he feels his bachelorhood is related to his complex relationship with his mother.

6. Fictional guilt-inducing Jewish mothers seem to have some similarities with guilt-inducing Asian mothers.

7. Back in the day, being in your 30s and unmarried was a big deal.

8. Just when you think of the Oedipus complex, Roth/Portnoy mentions it.

9. Woody Allen, who was doing stand-up at the time, was likely influenced by this book, not only in the artist-talking-to-therapist scenes but also in the Jew-goes-to-WASP-girlfriend's-home-for-Thanksgiving scene in Annie Hall.

10. Even with the psychoanalyst setup, Roth manages to include details that Portnoy wouldn't necessarily tell his therapist, but which add depth and texture to the novel.

11. The infamous liver scene in Portnoy’s Complaint makes the pastry-shtupping in American Pie seem tame by comparison.

12. It's kind of funny that the book was published in 1969, with all the implications of that number.

13. In 1969, it was more acceptable to be misogynistic and homophobic in print, but that doesn't hold true today.

14. As Katie Roiphe points out, today's literary male novelists don't write about sex the way Roth, Updike, and Mailer did when they were younger.

15. There's a certain exuberance and vitality in this novel that's often lacking in the current literary fiction I read.

16. The book's baseball sequences are written with such affection, tenderness, and grace that even someone who isn't a big fan of the game can appreciate them. And Roth's portrayal of middle-aged Jewish husband-dom is both sensitive and moving, while his depiction of that era's discreet anti-Semitism is disturbing.

17. Not everything in the book works perfectly, but it's still a fine piece of literature.

18. The movie adaptation starring Richard Benjamin didn't receive great reviews, and it looked overdone to me. So, I'll pass on that.

19. If you want to see a movie that captures Roth's anarchic, self-obsessed spirit, check out Alex Ross Perry's Listen Up Philip.

20. I've always been intrigued by those American bestsellers from the late 60s to early 70s that dealt with the sexual revolution, and now I'm curious about John Updike's Couples and Erica Jong's Fear Of Flying.

21. But above all, I want to read more Philip Roth.

Portnoy's Complaint was my first husband's absolute favorite book. He would constantly quote passages from it, as if it held the key to all of life's mysteries. When our marriage unfortunately came to an end in a rather unamicable manner, my lawyer presented an interesting option. He asked how I would feel about using my ex-husband's obsession with that book as a point in court. I have to admit, I was strongly tempted. It seemed like a way to get back at him for all the pain he had caused. However, after careful consideration, I decided that it was simply below the belt. I didn't want to stoop to that level.

As it turned out, my instincts served me well. Several years later, I discovered that the judge knew Philip Roth personally. If I had gone ahead and used that fact in court, it would have been an absolute disaster. I was truly amazed at how close I had come to making a huge mistake. It just goes to show that sometimes, it's better to take the high road and avoid using personal details in a vindictive way.

Vergogna e vergogna e vergogna e vergona: dovunque mi giri trovo sempre qualcosa di cui vergognarmi.

At 33 years old, Alex Portnoy is on the psychiatrist's couch, desperately seeking help for his constant feelings of guilt and his inability to form lasting relationships.
The arrogant Dr. Spielvogel, who claims to have an explanation for everything, tries to reconcile Alex's upbringing with his adult aspirations.

This polarizing and conflicted novel explores the complex existence of an American Jew, his strict education, traumatic adolescence, obsessions with sex, and failed romantic relationships, told with a healthy dose of humor and self-mockery.
Portnoy's voice is one that cannot ridicule others without first ridiculing himself, suffocated by his mother and her domestic conventions, exasperated by his father, who, martyred by constipation, is then identified with the son's hyperacidity. Portnoy has the ability to identify what is grotesque and repressive, and this excites him because the true indecency is not sex but the loss of self-control, the last bastion of the bourgeoisie.
The virtuosity of the novel lies in the syntactic freedom of the interior monologue, a stream of consciousness in which every thought follows the other.

The writing is intelligent, fluid, full of Yiddish jargon, and dotted with hilarious reflections on American Jewish life.
Simply magnificent.

I think there isn't a Roth book that symbolizes his literature so terribly well.

Portnoy is far from being an example for anyone, but by exposing all his prejudice, cynicism, and irony in wanting nothing and yet ending up devouring everything, that's where the allure of Roth emerges: in a kind of long monologue on the psychiatrist's couch, Alexander Portnoy, our protagonist, rambles on endlessly about everything that surrounds him, from childhood to the present, sparing no one, attacking everything and everyone, present and past; in a sort of 'Portnoy against the world', the extremely intelligent lawyer lashes out at women, family, religion, the United States, and of course, Israel.

His obsession with the other is so absurd, projecting onto it acts that reflect himself. Portnoy has no limit at all, from his sexual initiation (which he never abandons in the novel) to his emotional detachment, all presented with the most natural lack of altruism that borders on the comical. However, of all that the character is, he has sincerity, guilt, and resentment towards the Jewish world, especially towards the figure that tries to devour an entire culture and fails. So he complains, laughs at himself, causes pain to others, but he is not a puritan and even less a moralist. Perhaps that's why the criticism of the time had a conflict with the work, which is, above all, a great, useless, and futile search for an unreal culprit, which doesn't please everyone but makes Roth's novel a successful experiment, like the chaotic life of Portnoy.

I think that in the end, if I knew how incredibly detestable Portnoy is, I would have read it before. It's part of our enjoyment of the absurdity of Roth. I understand those who hate the book and there is indeed something to hate, but if on the one hand Portnoy can be a terrible egotist, on the other hand Roth is a genius (although the journalists of the time raised the hypothesis that he had gone crazy