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| Philip Montgomery photo of Philip Roth source |
If a
writer's work works for you, nothing but your own life experience will separate
you from that writer. If a writer's work doesn't work for you, it takes
earth-moving-equipment-level effort to bring you to care about that writer.
Philip
Roth died yesterday, and lots of old white male snobs, his demographic, are
insisting that he was a great writer.
Me? Meh.
I read one of his books, and it left me cold. I saw a movie based on one of his
books, and it left me colder. And he hated me and others like me, Polaks, who
are, as Roth put it, Jews' "worst enemy." At least Rabbi Warshaw, one
of Roth's characters, put it that way. Note that Roth places his bigotry
against Poles in the mouth of a man whose last name is a misspelling of the
Polish capital, Warszawa or Warsaw.
Roth
write a misogynist novel about jerking off, and he included Dumb-Polak-joke
level comments about Polish people, and he won every literary award there is to
win, except the Nobel.
If that
isn't proof of the American elite's embrace of Bieganski, the Brute Polak
Stereotype, I don't know what is. Ask yourself. If Roth had written about
"Negroes" – a fusty term I associate with the old, white male snobs
who love Roth – if Roth had written about African Americans the way he wrote
about Polish people, would he have won any of those awards? Oh, come on!
Below
are some snippets about Roth.
***
The
process of firming and defining fragile group identity and solidarity through
victimization and over and against a posited ethnic other of choice has been
described in American- as well as Eastern European-Jewish literature. Philip
Roth's Portnoy's Complaint provides an example. Portnoy, the novel protagonist,
"recalls something that his father often said to him: 'A Polack's day ...
isn't complete until he has dragged his big, dumb feet across the bones of a Jew'
... My father is right, these people are direct descendants of the ox."
Alice Dembosky embodies the sensuality and stupidity of a stereotypical
"dumb, blond, goyische beauty." This "Polack's plan" is to
steal away a Jewish boy and "ruin his life." Uncle Hymie, using
deceit and bribes, drives the threatening Polack away. Hymie's lies and bribery
are justifiable; he is dealing with a Pole, an animal out to ruin Jews. Portnoy
and his father agree on little else. On Bieganski, though, they can bond, and
Portnoy, Roth, and his readers can experience the comforts of identity, whether
they follow the six hundred thirteen commandments or not.
***
My Amazon
review of The Plot Against America, Roth's
book that depicts the Holocaust occurring in the US,
Question
for fans who champion Philip Roth's "Plot against America" as a
brilliant, moral analysis of anti-Semitism: How would you review a Palestinian
"alterative history" that depicts Israelis feeding Palestinians into
gas chambers? How would you review an "alternative history" by a real
aid to former President Bill Clinton who depicts Clinton raping her, though he
did not? A point blank question: what is the difference between an
"alternative history," and a "lie"?
"Don't
invent; just remember:" Roth announced as his dictum when he was writing
"Plot." Thus Roth implicates himself as a case of self-induced False
Memory Syndrome. This notorious condition, created by overzealous therapists,
resulted in the jailing of innocent adults who had never harmed any child.
*Real* child abuse -- like real anti-Semitism -- must be fought. It is exactly
because anti-Semitism is so heinous that false charges of anti-Semitism are
themselves so heinous.
Some
individuals are so self-important, so divorced from common standards of
decency, and so ravenous for unearned pity that they announce that they have
been victimized when they have not. Philip Roth insists on imagining himself,
Philip Roth, as the main character, the primary innocent victim, in the history
of anti-Semitism in America. Like the woman who cries rape when she's never
been touched, Roth does not care whom he slanders with his phony charge. He
also does not care how much of the spotlight he hogs from real victims.
Slander
Roth does. Yes, there was anti-Semitism in America in the interwar period.
There was murderous hostility to largely Catholic Eastern and Southern
Europeans, Asians, and blacks as well. But statistics speak volumes. So do the
rows of white crosses above places like Normandy. Over sixteen million
Americans fought fascism in WW II. Almost three hundred thousand Americans
died. In "Plot," these lives were never lived, nor were they ever
sacrificed.
Roth
further lies about history by stating in so many words that Jews, and Jews
alone, are the only imaginable victims. In fact, one would not have to imagine
anything to write a genuine history of organized terror and mass murder in the
case of twentieth century African American history. Too, not only Jews, as Roth
insists here, were victimized by the Nazis; Gypsies, Homosexuals, Poles,
Soviets, Jehovah's Witnesses, trade unionists, etc, were also targeted.
Roth's
further twisting of facts abounds on every page. Pacifists and others who did
not want to enter WW II had reasons other than anti-Semitism for their
hesitation. Millions, including Americans, had just fought in WW I, and, by
many assessments, had thereby accomplished nothing. Lindbergh and others who
resisted America's entry into the war often criticized the British
"race" as much as they criticized Jews, because Brits wanted America
in the war. Walter Winchell, Roth's hero, was a vicious homophobe who destroyed
careers of those who would not play along with him.
Hog
the spotlight from real victims Roth also does. As the book makes its splashy
debut, a real genocide is taking place in Darfur. If Roth were the least bit
moral, he could use his fame to draw attention to the tens of thousands already
dead in Darfur, and the millions slated to die.
As
literature, the book is empty. Roth's opening descriptions of Newark are
pedestrian. That's to be expected. Readers will rush these early passages to
reach the "money shots," the titillating, "true" depictions
of rabid Kentucky goyim burning Jews alive.
Roth's
distortions are not random. They are part of a struggle to redefine Nazism.
Authors like James Carroll, in his "Constantine's Sword," have been
working to define Nazism as an expression of Christianity. For this definition
to make sense, many historical facts must disappear, for example, that Nazis
persecuted Christian populations, and that Nazis defined their own movement as
an expression of ancient paganism and modern science.
In
this profoundly immoral view, all Christians are essentially anti-Semites, and
all Jews are essentially victims. This view can never explain genocides like
that by Muslims against fellow Muslims in Darfur, and so, that genocide is best
ignored. Much else must be ignored, including the millions of Americans who
fought against fascism. One can see how "Plot" services this
worldview.
Roth
has lived, and now lives, a comfortable life, rich with rewards that any human
might envy. He has written two books, "Portnoy's Complaint" and
"Goodbye Columbus," that earned him hatred from Jews who denounced
him as a self-hating Jew. With "Plot," Roth is trying to have his
cake and eat it too. Don't swallow it.
Read
Romeo Dallaire's "Shake Hands with the Devil" to understand genocide
in our own day. Read Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning," to
discover how one real survivor dealt with his real Holocaust experience. Read
more recent books by survivors like Bernat Rosner and Betty Schimmel. And then
read Roth. There will be no comparison.
***
From
my Amazon
review of Claire Bloom's book, Leaving
a Doll's House.
Bloom's
husband, the author Philip Roth, insists that a skunk has anti-Semitic feelings
toward him. This anecdote goes a long way towards explaining Roth's new book,
"The Plot Against America."
Pages
195-220 contain, without comment, Bloom's diary entries from a particularly
rocky time in her marriage to Roth. This is the best, rawest, most detailed
writing in the book.
As
others report, Philip Roth is depicted here -- believably -- as a demented and
sadistic man. He is also clearly depicted as an object of genuine pathos. It
must be hard to be Roth's wife; it must also be hard to be Roth. Without ever
using the term, Bloom creates a vivid portrayal of Roth as a kind of idiot
savant with Borderline Personality Disorder.
Reading
of Roth's self-induced wounds of greed -- he demanded that Bloom pay him huge
sums of money as compensation for the time he spent with her -- paranoia, and
sheer unhappiness is like reading of a patient tormented by self-induced skin
rashes. It's simply hard to watch, and you can't help but say a prayer for his
speedy recovery.
***
Below is my review of The Human Stain,
a 2003 film based on the 2000 Roth novel.
"The
Human Stain" is the product of Philip Roth's ego and attention deficit
disorder. Roth's ego: characters are obsessed with Jews, because Roth is
obsessed with his own Jewish identity. Naked, beautiful, young women throw
themselves at wizened, physically unattractive college professors, because Roth
is an older man. A novelist saves the day, because Roth is a novelist. There is
not a single believable female character in the movie. There are four
melodramatic deaths. A character who had been a coward and a traitor in one of
the first scenes accuses himself – unbelievably – during a eulogy in one of the
last scenes. There are two scenes where very beautiful women perform private stripteases
for ogling men – porn for pseudo-intellectuals. Yawn.
Attention
deficit disorder: the script attempts to address Clinton's impeachment,
stereotypical "White Trash," crazed, homicidal, Vietnam veterans, the
issue of passing, artistic burnout, college town hypocrisy, and political
correctness. Even a gifted novelist would find it impossible to work all those
themes into a coherent and effective narrative. Roth drops the ball big time
here; every theme he attempts is aborted. But, Roth is a genius, so if we
aren't swept off our feet by the fruits of Roth's labor, it's because we are
too small to appreciate his great genius. That, in a nutshell, is the naked
emperor syndrome. Feh. Step aside. Make room for better writers.
Though
"The Human Stain" is a failure, in spite of itself, it contains some
worthy work. Wentworth Miller, as the young Coleman Silk, the character Antony
Hopkins plays in advanced age, is stunning. Miller is supercharged with star
power and it is to be hoped that he goes far. Ed Harris can do no wrong. He
elevates and ignites every moment of his screen time that we are lucky enough
to enjoy – even when the character Harris is playing, as here, is a two-dimensional
stereotype of a homicidal, wife beating, anti-Semitic, lower class white,
Vietnam veteran. This is a stereotype so shallow a tyro writer could produce it
based on watching grade B movies. Nicole Kidman never escapes the two
dimensional, derivative, and divorced from real life quality of her character,
a foul-mouthed, chain smoking, poor white nymphomaniac with a craving for plump
old men. If Roth gets his homicidal Vietnam Vet characters from B movies, he
gets his female characters from pulp fiction. And just from the paperback
*covers* of pulp fiction. Not even from reading the text. It's actually kinda
scary to contemplate how divorced Roth and his readers are from real poor white
people, real women, real Vietnam veterans.
There
is a very fine early scene where Professor Coleman Silk (Anthony Hopkins) is
berated and threatened by a committee of self-righteous, politically correct,
hypocritical, gasbag, (redundant, I know) college professors who falsely accuse
Silk of making a racist remark. The scene is very well played. But it is never
anything more than an anecdote. Journalism has outstripped fiction's ability to
comment on events like this. Want to read about politically correct shenanigans
on campus? Read "Until Proven Innocent" about the legal and media
lynching of the Duke lacrosse players. Roth's novel can't begin to match that
account. As for Roth's stripteases? Free on the internet.
***
Finally,
I'm a Jersey girl. My parents lived in Newark but had to leave. They,
categorized as "white," were targets of violent rage our people
played no historical role in generating. At least one of my older brothers was
born in Newark. I've worked in Newark and I go to Newark several times a year
for medical care. That Roth was born in Newark means nothing to me as a Jersey
girl or as a New Jersey reader. Roth does not write for me.
New
Jersey's most important living wordsmith is almost certainly Bruce Springsteen.
Listen to his lyrics; read his 2016 memoir, Born
to Run. Springsteen captures, and evokes, much of New Jersey life. Few of
us are rock stars, but any of us could have walked along the boardwalk, or
negotiated race relations in a shifting landscape, or interacted with immigrant
ancestors or close relatives with mental illness. Springsteen's description of
his father's body is one of the most powerful passages I've ever read.
