Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth

Despite – or perhaps because of – this book’s notoriety I never got around to reading it when it came out. I’m glad of that now because it’s only with a little life experience that I think you can really appreciate the humour and the characters in this novel. Portnoy is so wonderfully angst ridden and sex obsessed, so Woody Allen in many of his film incarnations; Sophie Portnoy, his mother, is the gold standard Jewish mother, with a bloody good dash of all the controlling, anxiety ridden mothers you’ve ever met elsewhere as well. There were times when I could even see something of myself in her! Theo had trouble sticking with the book, largely because it’s a stream of consciousness monologue and short on obvious narrative, but there is in fact a strong story there as Portnoy pieces together the story of his life as part of his confession – did I just say that? – his conversation with his psychiatrist. And it’s funny, so full of irony and black humour, hysteria, wit and even moments of sheer slapstick. I loved the characters, Alex Portnoy and especially Sophie of course, and The Mouse, but also Portnoy’s long suffering dad with his constipation and resigned approach to his daily grind. It’s a great piece of writing. 4 1/2 stars.