And, after finishing this early book of Philip Roth's, I have an urge, yes, to write in a long-winded, ironic manner. As an example, at one point in the novel, our neurotic and sex-addicted narrator, Portnoy, a New Jersey native, goes to Iowa for Thanksgiving with his first Christian girlfriend:

"Next they [the Iowa family] all start asking each other if they had 'a good night's sleep.' And asking me! Did I have a good night's sleep? I don't really know, I have to think--the question comes as something of a surprise. Did--I--have---A--Good--Night's--Sleep? Why, yes! I think I did! Hey--did you? 'Like a log,' replies Mr. Campbell. And for the first time in my life I experience the full force of a smile. This man, who is a real estate broker and an alderman of the Davenport town council, says that he slept like a log, and I actually see a log. I get it! Motionless, heavy, like a log!"

Portnoy is an entertaining narrator: very nervous, insecure, deadly honest. And his sentences just pop. I have only read Roth's books of the last two decades, so this one, written 42 years ago, was a real surprise. I did not know Roth has such a streak for dark, dark humor. The downside, I guess, is that the book wasn't particularly enlightening--but there's plenty of other Roth books for that.