“Unveiling Secrets: What Columbus Never Knew About His Journey”
I attempted Portnoy’s Complaint when I was 16, and my takeaway was that Roth used too many exclamation points and seemed like a pervert but looked good in his author photo. Now I’m 33, springtime is blowing in on the Upper West Side, and Philip Roth is across the street from me, also waiting for the green light. He’s just outside Andy’s Deli, where I get my cigarettes, tuna sandwiches, and Diet Coke. He’s dressed in olive, navy, wool, wide wale. He’s watching me! I gasp, but quietly. I glance away, then back at him. His famous scowl relaxes into wolfish appreciation.
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