Self-restraint and equanimity are the two superhuman qualities exhibited by Lonoff, the great writer admired by Zuckerman. But does life really imitate art, or is the reverse also true? One of those few works of Roth that juxtaposes fidelity with frustration and makes fidelity win. In spite of itself.
As for the whole concept of the persecuted Jewish people and their incredulous history, well, Zuckerman can’t seem to be bothered to allow for his work to serve as a righteous representation of his people, and neither family nor friend succeeds in getting to make him see otherwise. Still, there is that little thing called the conscience that continues to chip away at him to the point that his fantastical fantasies involve conjuring up an Anne Frank-like Jewess woman who could offer him redemption if only she would be his for life.
Finally, Hope, Lonoff’s embittered wife has a thing or two to say about what it means to endure. For better or for worse.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is Nathan Zuckerman’s initiation into real life (aka, fiction) and the “madness of art.”
