Many people were complaining yesterday that Philip Roth, once again, was passed over for the Nobel Prize in Literature. And I sympathize. Believe me, I do. I'm a huge fan of Roth. I have even read The Breast -- an awful, awful, awful take on Kafka's metamorphosis where the main character finds himself turned into not a cockroach, but a giant female breast.
But The Plot Against America is excellent, as is I Married a Communist, and Roth should really win the Nobel even if the only book he ever wrote was the extraordinary American Pastoral. His Nobel is long overdue.
That said, you really ought to read Mario Vargas Llosa's The Feast of the Goat. The follow that up with The Time of the Hero and then with The War at the End of the World. These are all epic, valuable novels. I can't think of another author who, when I finish the last page, leaves me both simultaneously stunned and wanting to set things on fire. Maybe Cormac McCarthy.
Anyway, I know Garcia Marquez and Borges usually get most of the platitudes when Latin American writers are brought into the mix. But Vargas Llosa really is an astonishing writer. Sometime soon, Roth will have his day. In the meantime, try Vargas Llosa. He won't disappoint.
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