Some people say Philip Roth's final novel was his best novel. Specifically, Tom Perrotta says that. Leah Cohen, in the NYT, confessed that she generally didn't like Roth's work, but that the final novel had a simplicity she appreciated. The meta-narrative tricks of "Operation Shylock" and "The Counterlife" had disappeared. Roth seemed to have stopped showing off. He was now simply telling a story.
The final novel--"Nemesis"--is about polio. Like Roth's "Patrimony," "Nemesis" introduces us to an inexplicable, ravenous force of destruction--in this case, a virus--and then shows how people try to cope. The protagonist, Bucky Cantor, is a young man in his twenties, held back from WWII because of poor eyesight. Cantor's job is to run a playground in Newark, a summer program for small children. But, as kids begin to die from polio, angry, confused parents hold Cantor responsible: "How could you let those kids run around and sweat like that?" Of course no one actually knows if sweat has anything to do with polio, but people in pain need to find scapegoats.
Cantor thinks he can handle the stress, but something awful happens. A local vagrant--the Boo Radley of "Nemesis"--appears on the playground. When this crazy guy pops up, you need only shake his hand, and then he will walk away, harmless, muttering. Kids can usually tolerate him, but they can't tolerate anything when their friends are dying. Cantor's most responsible child snaps. He says, "Get Boo Radley away from here! There's shit on his hands! He can't wipe his ass! He walks around with shit on his hands, and that's what is spreading the polio!"
The scene is a nightmare--the screaming gets louder and louder--and Cantor can't go on. You can envision the warring parties perfectly. It's not at all clear that shit is the vehicle for transmitting polio, but if you were a kid with dying friends (or even if you weren't), you might reach that conclusion. And you can also imagine the one really self-possessed kid snapping and unloading his pain on someone who doesn't deserve it, someone who can't really be held accountable for his own actions. Reading this passage, you feel helpless, along with Bucky Cantor. It's some of Roth's best writing.
Embarrassed by his own cowardice, Bucky nevertheless flees Newark. He runs away to a charming camp in the Poconos. But--naturally--his memories follow him. He has left Newark "physically," but not spiritually. As he tries to repress his own knowledge of what he has done, he falls apart. Roth turns the screws tighter and tighter. Even a lovely swarm of butterflies becomes a menacing, hallucinogenic thing.
I'm not sure if this is everyone's cup of tea. It's weird to derive comfort from such a horrifying story. But I do find comfort in Roth--because he always seems to be saying, This is the mud we all wade through. You are not alone. Roth's method was to dream up an intractable problem--something that could occur in actual life--and then show all the ways in which the problem metastasizes and changes. Things start bad, and then they get much worse. Roth nails down complex twist after complex twist. It's a smart, unique vision of life.
So: my endorsement for "Nemesis" is wholehearted. In case you missed this book. Happy Memorial Day!
The final novel--"Nemesis"--is about polio. Like Roth's "Patrimony," "Nemesis" introduces us to an inexplicable, ravenous force of destruction--in this case, a virus--and then shows how people try to cope. The protagonist, Bucky Cantor, is a young man in his twenties, held back from WWII because of poor eyesight. Cantor's job is to run a playground in Newark, a summer program for small children. But, as kids begin to die from polio, angry, confused parents hold Cantor responsible: "How could you let those kids run around and sweat like that?" Of course no one actually knows if sweat has anything to do with polio, but people in pain need to find scapegoats.
Cantor thinks he can handle the stress, but something awful happens. A local vagrant--the Boo Radley of "Nemesis"--appears on the playground. When this crazy guy pops up, you need only shake his hand, and then he will walk away, harmless, muttering. Kids can usually tolerate him, but they can't tolerate anything when their friends are dying. Cantor's most responsible child snaps. He says, "Get Boo Radley away from here! There's shit on his hands! He can't wipe his ass! He walks around with shit on his hands, and that's what is spreading the polio!"
The scene is a nightmare--the screaming gets louder and louder--and Cantor can't go on. You can envision the warring parties perfectly. It's not at all clear that shit is the vehicle for transmitting polio, but if you were a kid with dying friends (or even if you weren't), you might reach that conclusion. And you can also imagine the one really self-possessed kid snapping and unloading his pain on someone who doesn't deserve it, someone who can't really be held accountable for his own actions. Reading this passage, you feel helpless, along with Bucky Cantor. It's some of Roth's best writing.
Embarrassed by his own cowardice, Bucky nevertheless flees Newark. He runs away to a charming camp in the Poconos. But--naturally--his memories follow him. He has left Newark "physically," but not spiritually. As he tries to repress his own knowledge of what he has done, he falls apart. Roth turns the screws tighter and tighter. Even a lovely swarm of butterflies becomes a menacing, hallucinogenic thing.
I'm not sure if this is everyone's cup of tea. It's weird to derive comfort from such a horrifying story. But I do find comfort in Roth--because he always seems to be saying, This is the mud we all wade through. You are not alone. Roth's method was to dream up an intractable problem--something that could occur in actual life--and then show all the ways in which the problem metastasizes and changes. Things start bad, and then they get much worse. Roth nails down complex twist after complex twist. It's a smart, unique vision of life.
So: my endorsement for "Nemesis" is wholehearted. In case you missed this book. Happy Memorial Day!
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