Books May 2006 Atlantic Monthly

Finds and flops

by Joseph O’Neill

New Fiction

Article Tools

E-mail Article
Printer Format

Following the historical panoramas of his recent work, Roth’s new novel— a novella, really—is a transfixing summary biography of a seventy-one-year-old mortal from Elizabeth, New Jersey: “He’d married three times, had mistresses and children and an interesting job where he’d been a success, but now eluding death seemed to have become the central business of his life and bodily decay his entire story.”

Everyman

by Philip Roth
Houghton Mifflin

Thus the personal history of this “average human being” is reduced almost to a surgical history: hernia trouble as a boy; a burst appendix and peritonitis in his thirties; and, in his fifties and sixties, disastrously recurrent cardiac difficulties that clutter him with six stents and a defibrillator. The vocabulary of heart disease hurled at the reader—angiogram, anterior descending artery, ejection fraction, fatal cardiac arrhythmia—is supplemented by the back braces, strokes, cancers, and migraines that plague our hero’s nearest and dearest. The whole “onslaught” is horribly aggravated by his memories of carnal exaltation and bungled marriages and the beloved dead, not to mention by the awful truth that “there was nothing to be done. No fight to put up. You take it and endure it. Just give yourself over to it as long as it lasts.”

Let’s use a noun I’ve never used before: masterpiece. Whereas Roth’s prize-laden recent fictions are a tad manipulative, in Everyman there is never any sense of a novelist trying to write a novel. Every sentence is urgent, essential, almost nonfictional. The sophistication and indirection forced on practically every writer are replaced by a straightforwardness of, yes, masterly authority. The text so thoroughly embodies, rather than displays, expertise that only after I’d finished reading did I realize that the protagonist’s name had been withheld. Everyman is therefore that rarest of literary achievements: a novel that disappears as it progresses, leaving in one’s hands only the matters of life and death it describes.

Joseph O'Neill is a novelist in New York City.

Article Tools

E-mail Article
Printer Format

What do you think? Discuss this article in Post & Riposte.

Subscribe to our e-mail newsletter.

From the Archives

May 2001

The Nihilist

Philip Roth's hard, isolate—and heroic—vision.

The Life of Job in Exurbia

(June 1997)
Philip Roth looks back in dismay at the 1960s. By Ralph Lombreglia

From Atlantic Unbound

March 8, 2001

The Crooked Timber of Humanity

Philip Roth's recently completed trilogy of novels about America offers a vision of paradise lost.

Also By

Joseph O’Neill

May 2008

The Last Laugh

Flann O'Brien, a comic genius who died young, is finally getting his due.

October 2007

Bowling Alone

The “greatest sports book ever written” is a mystery to Americans, for reasons all too revealing of national character.

July/August 2007

New Fiction

Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policemen's Union


Name

Address 1

Address 2

City

State Zip

Email

Atlantic Voices

Face Of The Day Read more

16 May 2008 7:29 P.M.

Cheap Talk Read more

16 May 2008 5:17 P.M.

Pinker vs. Humanism Read more

16 May 2008 2:04 P.M.

Art imitates life Read more

16 May 2008 2:11 P.M.

The Full Rubin Read more

16 May 2008 7:19 P.M.

My three computers (MacBook Air saga, cont..) Read more

15 May 2008 4:40 P.M.

We've Already Had a Roth Presidency Read more

16 May 2008 10:34 A.M.

Pause Read more

02 May 2008 7:21 P.M.