That Philip Roth is one of the best writers alive may not be up for debate. There are those who might not be fans of his long-winded style, as well as many who believe his writing is chauvinistic. But even most critics of his work acknowledge his enormous stature in the modern American canon; he has the awards to prove it, including a Pulitzer, two National Book Awards, and a PEN/Faulkner Award (though still no Nobel!).
And yet there are so many readers that detest Roth, some of them (I have learned) without ever having read him before. So, my advice: Roth haters may find a better path of engagement through his first novel, the oft-overlooked, rarely-mentioned Letting Go. [UPDATE, 10/9/11: In case you doubt that it’s overlooked, case in point: this little blog post on my unknown blog is the sixth Google result for a search of “letting go roth.”] Gone are the graphic, lurid sex scenes. Gone the ruminations on old age and male sexuality. Goodbye to the extended discussions of deteriorating health that he has stuffed into his latest slim volumes (Everyman, Exit Ghost, The Humbling).
After his first book, the short story collection (plus title novella) Goodbye, Columbus, came Letting Go, in 1962. It was his first novel. It’s a restrained story of domestic life and academia in the austere 1950s that centers on Gabe Wallach, a young English professor and clear prototype for Nathan Zuckerman, who would come later. Gabe carries on a strange relationship with a colleague, Paul Herz, and Paul’s volatile young wife. Roth tells the story slowly, in no rush, in over 600 pages. Interestingly, it remains his longest book.
Roth makes the book’s more muted story—I say “muted” in comparison to more overtly intense plot drama and tension in books like The Human Stain (racism) and American Pastoral (terrorism)—nonetheless riveting by not only attaching the reader to the protagonist early on, but also through exuberant dialogue.
And interestingly, there isn’t strictly one protagonist. It’s Gabe, sure, but huge sections are told from the perspective of Paul, Libby, and Martha.
During one exchange in which Paul’s uncle Asher urges him not to marry the girl he loves because she is not Jewish, Paul’s fury rises along with our own, thanks to the sick, ignorant things that Asher tells him. “How can you talk like this? You don’t even know the girl,” Paul says. “This girl’s got a background on her you don’t even begin to understand,” Asher counters. “She’s got a family that probably this minute is churning gall over you.” The reader develops a fierce loyalty to Paul, and that feeling is even more innate if the “marrying someone Jewish” problem is one of personal experience.
Letting Go is by no means a page-turner, but after a slow start, love for its characters (not only Gabe, but fierce, strong Martha, and even the problematic, burdensome Herzes) keeps the story moving.
And I’d venture to say that Letting Go was a precursor (perhaps one that will remain un-credited) to the hyper domestic realism of Franzen’s Freedom. Before there was Franzenfreude, there was Roth mania.
Daniel B. Roberts 
Richard
December 1, 2010
I read it when I was in high school, around 1967, or 1968, and I can’t remember too much of it: a letter in a copy of “Portrait of a Lady,” I think; an abortion scene; Gabe saying as a kid that his mouth felt “pink” after his dentist father cleaned it; and that his father was involved in the Henry Wallace campaign but in the end voted for Truman (which resonated with me because an older family member had done the same). Lots of angst. It’s over 40 years. I think I’d already read the excerpt coming from “Portnoy’s Complaint” — either “The Jewish Blues” or the other, what was first — and that blew my teenage mind. And I’d liked the “Goodbye Columbus” stories.
I wonder what you would make of “When She Was Good.” I couldn’t quite get through it. A young guy working on his Ph.D. told me when I was an undergrad that that was Roth’s best book, and I repeated that to the novelist who would become my mentor, and he said, knowing the rather pretentious guy, “He would say that.”
The little Roth book from back in the day that I remember with the most fondness is “The Breast.”
DBR
December 2, 2010
Thanks for the comment. Very cool to have a fellow writer check the site out.
Of course I loved The Breast, but no, I have not read When She Was Good. I’ve heard mixed things. For what it’s worth my very favorites by Roth are the Human Stain and Indignation. Has reading Roth helped your political ambitions at all? Spurred or staunched?
Richard
December 6, 2010
I don’t think any fiction writer/poet/dramatist has affected anything I’ve ever thought or done about politics. It would be scary to me if they had.
Roth’s “Our Gang,” of course, is his most political book. Of the moment, it was pretty decent, but I can’t imagine reading it today any more than I’d reread “MacBird,” except out of curiosity.
DBR
December 21, 2010
Haven’t read Our Gang, but American Pastoral was pretty political… as was Human Stain, though, granted, it was about racial politics. Richard, I’d be interested to hear what you think about the books Roth has called the ‘Nemesis’ series, i.e. his slim, angry books of the past few years (Everyman, Indignation, The Humbling, Nemesis).
Mark Benney
September 8, 2012
There are certainly structural similarities between Letting Go and Freedom…