Details Out Of Books My Life as a Man (Complete Nathan Zuckerman #0)
| Title | : | My Life as a Man (Complete Nathan Zuckerman #0) |
| Author | : | Philip Roth |
| Book Format | : | Paperback |
| Book Edition | : | Special Edition |
| Pages | : | Pages: 334 pages |
| Published | : | January 13th 1994 by Vintage (first published 1974) |
| Categories | : | Fiction. Literature. American. Novels |
Philip Roth
Paperback | Pages: 334 pages Rating: 3.73 | 1929 Users | 147 Reviews
Rendition To Books My Life as a Man (Complete Nathan Zuckerman #0)
At its heart lies the marriage of Peter and Maureen Tarnopol, a gifted young writer and the woman who wants to be his muse but who instead is his nemesis. Their union is based on fraud and shored up by moral blackmail, but it is so perversely durable that, long after Maureen’s death, Peter is still trying—and failing—to write his way free of it. Out of desperate inventions and cauterizing truths, acts of weakness, tenderheartedness, and shocking cruelty, Philip Roth creates a work worthy of Strindberg—a fierce tragedy of sexual need and blindness.Specify Books During My Life as a Man (Complete Nathan Zuckerman #0)
| Original Title: | My Life as a Man |
| ISBN: | 067974827X (ISBN13: 9780679748274) |
| Edition Language: | English |
| Series: | Complete Nathan Zuckerman #0 |
| Literary Awards: | National Book Award Finalist for Fiction (1975) |
Rating Out Of Books My Life as a Man (Complete Nathan Zuckerman #0)
Ratings: 3.73 From 1929 Users | 147 ReviewsAssess Out Of Books My Life as a Man (Complete Nathan Zuckerman #0)
This is the third book in a series I am calling quarantine life. With all of our public libraries closed due to the Coronavirus pandemic, I have turned to my bookshelves and the books that I havent read yet.On the surface, this book is a hard one to rate: it approaches 4 stars with the absolutely incredible writing. However, it slums in the one star arena due to the sheer unpleasantness of the main character who also is a representation of the author, which further tarnishes this work. So, 2Ooh, this one is . . . uncomfortable. Roth has teasingly drawn from his life before, and or at least seems to be in a constant game with the reader daring them to figure out how much of what he is writing is autobiographical and how much is simply an informed and exaggerated variation (a game that can admittedly get tiring after a while for people who want to read a story and not pay the author to subject us to a detailed psychological examination of his flaws, or lack thereof) but this one gets
FIRST LINE REVIEW: "First, foremost, the puppyish, protected upbringing above his father's show store in Camden." Always interesting to go back to the first line after finishing a book. In this case, the book ends where it began, with the narrator (author?) reflecting back on his childhood where he has come to believe that all his troubles began (or where his salvation lay). This was a twisted, messed up book with truly unlikeable characters throughout. While I loved the writing, I wanted to
Re-reading Roth these days and for the most part I am as caught up in his literary magic as I was years ago. Except for this one. Although there are stunning moments of insight and compassion, there weren't enough to temper the antics (real and imagined) of the mean-spirited and angry misanthrope Peter Tarnopol.
Well, I was warned not to read this. To me, Roth (as the author of the author of the author) was as the author far enough removed from this for me to be unclear whether he was embracing post modernism or embracing it.But frankly, I found it hard to care. There's a lot that should have been old fashioned about this novel when it was written. But unlike the cover blurb writer, I just didn't find it funny. What, I wonder, did I miss?
Reads like an alternative ending sequel to When She Was Good. Much of the same ground covered but brings in a Freudian psychoanalyst to inject a note of Portnoy.
Deft, and with shades of Human Stain and Mickey Sabbath, but ultimately not his best and, sadly, tied to its time.
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