I repost this because The New York Times has two of Philip Roth's (RIP) novels on their list of 100 best novels of the 21st century, at the one quarter-century mark: The Human Stain and The Plot Against America.
I read Roth’s Goodbye, Columbus and Portnoy’s Complaint in college, and loved them. They were funny, especially in depicting the lusts and lives of young men, with literary flair. But I didn’t read him too often after that for no particular reason until relatively recently. Maybe it was something to do with my feeling tired of reading the same Roth main character, book after book, an aggressive male consumed by lust. But then I happened to read the non-fiction Patrimony, about his relationship with his father, and The Plot Against America, a dark fantasy about a possible past where we chose a fascist dictator--Charles Lindberg--in the thirties instead of FDR, and liked these books very much, so I thought maybe I'd take a closer look at his work again. So I have read several Roth novels now.
And now having completed his Nathan Zuckerman trilogy, beginning with the much-acknowledged masterpiece, American Pastoral, which I loved, and I Married a Communist, which I also came to like very much, I see the greatness of this trilogy, which like the Plot Against America, has to do with its attention to the sweep of twentieth-century American history, with some central social issues of each period examined in the context of often deeply flawed characters. It’s also about Roth’s use of language, at once visceral and muscular and startlingly honest in places, and more often than not lyrical at the same time. And talk. All the characters talk (and think like they're talking) in grand, sometimes manic, fashion. Epic verbal sparring and reflection.
The Human Stain took its time for me to warm up to, but grew on me, and then ended with me shouting hurrah as it concluded. It’s the story of three interlocking tragic stories: New England Athena College Classics professor and Dean Coleman Silk is forced out of his job at age 69 for supposed racist comments about two students; his 34-year-old girlfriend Faunia Farley whom he takes up with after his wife dies of complications from a stroke, and her ex, a PTSD-riddled Vietnam vet, each of them finally at least somewhat understandable if not completely sympathetic, but morally culpable and doomed by their own terrible mistakes. It’s primarily the story of Silk, and his secrets and lies, but especially of one central secret which led to terrible mistakes he made in the context of America’s racial past (and present). The legacies of racism and war and shame are at the heart of this book, how you can never really get free of them. You do some bad things and you pay and pay for them, no matter what good you may do.
The inciting impulse for the novel, set in 1998, (but only part of its motivation, finally) is the Clinton Impeachment trial, and on one level the book is an examination of all that sexual sanctimony through the lens of secrets and lies and the rest of us speculating about all public scandals as most of us typically do: Are they really "doing it"? What positions do they use?! Who's using whom? Should we impeach a guy for that?! We all watched what I and my friends thought then were ludicrous proceedings, the end of the sexual revolution being televised, with all these hypocrites pointing fingers at him so we wouldn't point at them.
“It was the summer in America when the nausea returned, when the joking didn't stop, when the speculation and the theorizing and the hyperbole didn't stop”—Roth on the Clinton impeachment trial, which became of national interest, but also on Silk’s affair with Faunia, which becomes a small town scandal that same summer. And at first this book reads like it is a gripe about cancel cutlure, until it becomes much more than that.
This book can make you uncomfortable. When Zuckerman and Silk joke crudely about the Clinton-Lewinsky affair, it’s funny, but there are no filters here. No filters, either, when the damaged and abusive Farley threatens to explode about the “draft dodger” “slick Willie” getting off free when so many Vets died in the jungle so he could get what he got from more than just Monica Lewinsky. These are all deeply flawed, screwed-up people, but they are never uninteresting. The two men, Silk and Fawley, are driven by rage, by hatred, for what has happened to them (Silk is pushed out of his position on the faculty because of something he said that people mistakenly assume is racist, and during this period his wife has a stroke and dies, so he is enraged about all that; Fawley is angry and bitter about his experiences in Nam, but):
“The danger with hatred is, once you start in on it, you get a hundred times more than you bargained for. Once you start, you can't stop”—Roth
This book is not just about "gossip" about who's doing what to whom, sexually, though. It's also about racial secrets. Does that white guy look a little bit black? Could he be "passing" for white? If so, what are we going to do about that??! Because we need these classifications for some reason, it seems. And what if you were "technically black," but looked white; would you choose to say you were black to be true to that legacy or would you say you were white so you could more easily achieve "the American Dream"? You read this novel in part about race through the lens of an Obama birther story, the light-skinned Kamala Harris, the Native American controversy around Elizabeth Warren, and so on. The continuing national obsession with race and color.
When I was done I thought that Zuckerman is to Silk as Nick Carraway is to Gatsby, albeit a cruder, more visceral Nick/Gatsby combo. Here Zuckerman speaks of what he imagines to be Silk’s goal: “To become a new being. To bifurcate. The drama that underlies America's story, the high drama that is upping and leaving—and the energy and cruelty that rapturous drive demands.” Sounds a little like Gatsby, right?
The stories we read of Silk and Faunia and Fawley are stories told by writer Zuckerman, so we (meta-fictionally) reflect through the telling on the way any novelist’s imagination can work its magic. But Zuckerman makes it clear that neither the novelist nor any of his readers, when we are done with this story, will have any really deep insights into human nature beyond this:
“There is truth and then again there is truth. For all that the world is full of people who go around believing they've got you or your neighbor figured out, there really is no bottom to what is not known. The truth about us is endless. As are the lies”—Roth
Zuckerman and Roth as novelists are not preachers, they are not social scientists; they only have their imaginations, and hunches; they can describe these fascinating, screwed-up people, and they can hypothesize, but they make it clear we’re all unknowable at some deep level. Even when he finds out all he can know to inform his telling of Silk’s story, the novel he writes, The Human Stain, Zuckerman says:
“Now that I know everything, it was though I knew nothing”—Roth
We look at others, we look at the world, and what we are left with is mystery, or a set of them, but a sense, too, of being highly entertained, having achieved a level of intensity that equals any of the other great Roth novels. I highly recommend this book. You don’t need to need to have read the first two to read this one, but the whole trilogy is great if you want to put it on your tbr list!