You've probably found it on your own by now, but my review of Philip Roth's Indignation is up at the Barnes & Noble review. Here's the opening:
Philip Roth must have emerged indignant from the womb, so fiery has been the burning thread of fury glowing through the heart of his oeuvre: Class resentment appears early in his debut, Goodbye Columbus. By the time Portnoy's Complaint rolls raucously into town, this has transformed into something considerably deeper and rawer: "What I'm saying, Doctor, is that I don't seem to stick my dick up these girls, as much as I stick it up their backgrounds..." Nathan Zuckerman expressed resentment at the demands of celebrity. Revulsion against puritan politics informs the celebrated American Trilogy, and in his final act, confronted with mortality and clash between Eros and Thanatos, Roth now rages against the dying of the light.
Having now published his 36th book at the age of 75, his capacity for righteous indignation has not dimmed but the old sharpness has dulled, leaving readers with little more than echoes of stronger works. How strong are these echoes? Indignation is filled with familiar Roth tropes: Newark, a confrontation of 1950s mores, a studious young Jewish son of well-meaning if interfering parents; a beautiful, promiscuous, damaged shiksa. An obsession with sex and with death.
You can read the rest here.
It's a stunning Saturday in Paris, and I'm hitting the Jardin with Joseph O'Neill's second novel The Breezes. Home Monday.