A terrible failure to write in this blog, which was meant to be daily. Mainly because busy and distracted. But also Portnoy's complaint is a difficult book to write about, in that it says all that it needs itself. It's not a book with deep layers - it is a hilarious romp through insatiable male sexuality set in a Jewish context. It's the sort of book I'm really glad someone wrote, just to prise out of the woodwork all those repressed and unhappy people who don't like having fun with sex and identity. Apparently it caused outrage in some of the Jewish community, surprise, surprise, but it's pretty damning about Catholics too, and by extension, any guilt laden oppressive religious morality. Of course the sex offends the weaker sensibility - great! They need offending. They're probably musing on the possibilities of a piece of liver even as they complain.
A lot is made of Roth's misogyny - but it's a COMEDY, and I think it's quite sweet and appreciative of the joys of women's bodies - what man doesn't look around and think about that secret, wet fissure of delights - men like cunts (and breasts, and - well you get the picture), get over it and that's a great thing for everybody.
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