I’ve been reading novels from the past that I believe could never be published today due to potential cultural appropriation, offensiveness, misogynistic themes, lack of political correctness, or some other enlightened objection that has diluted the variety and depth of what major publishing houses are bringing to the market and serves as a supply side-form of book censorship. But that’s just my opinion.
One of those novels is “Portnoy’s Complaint,” by Philip Roth, which Random House published in 1969 but would never touch today. This is one of Roth’s early works and it turned him into a major celebrity. The novel ignited a major controversy over its explicit and candid treatment of sexuality, including detailed depictions of masturbation, a subject matter that was not addressed in literature in 1969, despite the ongoing sexual revolution. The novel also pissed off some prominent members of the Jewish community for its irreverent depiction of Jewish identity, with Roth being accused of being antisemitic.
The novel is brilliantly structured as a first-person narration by Alexander Portnoy under the guise of a patient in session with a psychiatrist. It reads like a cross between a passionate therapy encounter and a stand-up comedy routine. From the first page, the reader knows exactly what’s coming when Portnoy’s Complaint is defined as “A disorder in which strongly-felt ethical and altruistic impulses are perpetually warring with extreme sexual longings, often of a perverse nature.”
And so it begins, with little Alexander Portnoy smothered in shame and guilt by his overbearing parents and growing up to be an expert and obsessive masturbator and then an adult who is unable to enjoy the fruits of his sexual adventures. Portnoy admits he’s “a lust-ridden, mother-addicted young Jewish bachelor.”
He says: “I am marked like a road map from head to toe with my repressions. You can travel the length and breadth of my body over superhighways of shame and inhibition and fear.” Side note: great metaphor!
Particularly memorable is a young Alexander masturbating with a piece of liver which is later served by his mother for family dinner (!), and his perverse relationship with a less-than-intellectual model he calls The Monkey.
This is one of the funniest and most vulgar novels I’ve read, showcasing Roth’s incredible talent and range as a writer. Some readers will be offended, and others will be entertained, but there’s only one way to find out: give this book a read.
If Portnoy’s Complaint sounds like it might not be for you, try one of Roth’s other masterpieces: “American Pastoral,” “The Human Stain,” or “The Plot Against America.“
