In Operation Shylock, Philip Roth once again plays himself. This time he stumbles into a bad mental episode triggered by lousy sleeping pills when he discovers that someone in Israel is imitating him. He heads to Israel to meet is enigmatic doppleganger, and all the while a heavily publicized trial is taking place involving a possible Nazi war criminal. Roth discovers that his doppelganger is a man using his fame to espouse the theory of diasporism, the idea that all of the non-Arabic Jews of the Levant should return to their roots in Europe. This novel is filled with bizarre bits of Jewish ironic comedy. There is an organization called Anti-Semites Anonymous, which is devoted to curing the threat of anti-antisemitism in Eastern Europe. This is a multi-faceted and highly original work of literature, though I found Roth to tread into severe solipsism as the novel's literary devices become more and more introspective and prolegoamatic. Not a great book, but still very interesting.

In Operation Shylock, Philip Roth once again plays himself. This time he stumbles into a bad mental episode triggered by lousy sleeping pills when he discovers that someone in Israel is imitating him. He heads to Israel to meet is enigmatic doppleganger, and all the while a heavily publicized trial is taking place involving a possible Nazi war criminal. Roth discovers that his doppelganger is a man using his fame to espouse the theory of diasporism, the idea that all of the non-Arabic Jews of the Levant should return to their roots in Europe. This novel is filled with bizarre bits of Jewish ironic comedy. There is an organization called Anti-Semites Anonymous, which is devoted to curing the threat of anti-antisemitism in Eastern Europe. This is a multi-faceted and highly original work of literature, though I found Roth to tread into severe solipsism as the novel's literary devices become more and more introspective and prolegoamatic. Not a great book, but still very interesting.

In Operation Shylock, Philip Roth once again plays himself. This time he stumbles into a bad mental episode triggered by lousy sleeping pills when he discovers that someone in Israel is imitating him. He heads to Israel to meet is enigmatic doppleganger, and all the while a heavily publicized trial is taking place involving a possible Nazi war criminal. Roth discovers that his doppelganger is a man using his fame to espouse the theory of diasporism, the idea that all of the non-Arabic Jews of the Levant should return to their roots in Europe. This novel is filled with bizarre bits of Jewish ironic comedy. There is an organization called Anti-Semites Anonymous, which is devoted to curing the threat of anti-antisemitism in Eastern Europe. This is a multi-faceted and highly original work of literature, though I found Roth to tread into severe solipsism as the novel's literary devices become more and more introspective and prolegoamatic. Not a great book, but still very interesting.

Operation Shylock is a book that needs to be read over and over again. On a very basic level, it is the story of Philip Roth going to Israel to interview a writer. When he gets there, he is caught up in a series of bizarre events initiated by a man claiming to be his double--an alternate Philip Roth with his own agenda. As the story unfolds, Mr. Roth confronts Mr. Roth with the intent of debunking his claims and warning him away. However, the "real" Mr. Roth experiences a gauntlet of emotions as he witnesses the trial of Demjanjuk, a man accused of being "Ivan the Terrible" at Treblinka, sits in on the trial of an Arab boy accused of attacking a Jew, receives a check for a million dollars to aid in the Jewish Diaspora, and is kidnapped by a member of an Israeli spy agency. Mr. Roth and Mr. Roth intersect and intertwine as if they are truly one and the same man.

Operation Shylock has very long monologues about the Holocaust, the creation of the state of Israel, the Jewish/Palestinan conflict, the Diaspora, Roth's writing, and the overall attitude of the Jewish people since 1945. They are both enlightening and controversial.

This book is amazingly multi-layered and should be analyzed from a dozen angles. If you are interested in a deep look into one of the most explosive issues in modern history, this book is for you. I gave it four stars because of the unnecessary foul language and sex scenes. The rest is witty and mind-bending.

Roth is a narcissist with much to be narcissistic about. This book is an amazing combination of Roth's extraordinary writing ability and his obsessive naval gazing. Indeed, without obviously intending irony, he calls his "double" in the story--the "other" Phillip Roth-- Moishe Pippic, which translates as Moses Bellybutton. No phrase could better capture Roth's grandiose self-image and obsessive self-examination; one Phillip Roth wasn't enough to sate him, so he has two of them in the book. And yet you (or at least I) are reading it. The reader can just feel Roth saying, "Grandiose? You don't seem to have anything better to do with your time than read my self-exploration, so who are you to judge?"

This novel has a plot, which you've detected from other reviews, but that plot--while immensely clever--serves mostly as a very thin wafer on which Roth serves thick essays on Israel and jewishness from a variety of perspectives. We hear from arab intelligentsia, jewish "diasporists," Nazi war criminals, children of Nazi war criminals, holocaust survivors, Israeli secret agents and, most of all, two Phillip Roths looking in the mirror. Roth's conception of the thoughts and diatribes of all but the latter are beautifully written--angry and thought-provoking-- and make the book worthwhile if you are interested in that sort of thing, but not so interested that you will be upset by some of the frankly offensive views portrayed in some of their rants.

If you have not read Phillip Roth and want to "try" a Phillip Roth book, this is not the one to start with. The plot is too thin, the self-obsession too great, and the interesting bits too specialized. Instead, I would try American Pastoral (5 stars beyond doubt) or the classic Portnoy's Complaint.

After reading American Pastoral (a work of art) I was excited to get my teeth into another Roth book. But where to start? I picked up a copy of Operation Shylock after carefully researching different discussions of Roth's greatest works. Maybe I just prefer Nathan Zuckerman's voice, but I found OS to be overwritten, completely unbelievable (and my satisfaction of finding out that the book is indeed a work of fiction on the last page was worth getting to it, but I never believed for a second that Roth was a credible character in his own novel, and just coming off of The Year of Magical Thinking which had a very authentic voice and I highly recommend it) and, just downright boring, because it is so overwrought. My fascination was held from the opening page of American Pastoral to the final, amazing word. But this book was frustrating. Maybe I just didn't like the setting (I'm weary of the craziness of the Middle East)but I didn't like most of the book, although there were a few funny scenes I just can't recommend it. My next foray into Roth will be a Zuckerman book. I simply prefer his voice. OS is claustrophobic and it's simply a relief to be done with it. I realize this isn't the world's greatest review, but OS wore me out. If you are new to Roth, read American Pastoral.

I wish I had read this novel before reading Pamuk's "Snow" because I feel as if they share so much in common. Both novels deal with a writer figure who is thrown into a political mess and tries his best to navigate the mess with the limited (or unlimited) skills of an author/writer. The fact that Roth was passed over for the Nobel Prize for Pamuk in a ywear that most thought he would win only makes any further comparisons all the more interesting (but ultimately superficial and really only done for the fun of it).

In this novel, Roth tries to bend reality by writing as himself in what is presumably a fictional situation. The memoir-like prose and the heavy borrowing from the "real world" makes it difficult to decide whether or not any of this ever happened. It reminds me of a grand experiment, much like what Henry James used to do in his own fiction, but revamped for our modern tastes. The Philip Roth of the novel flies to Jerusalem and encounters someone who looks remarkably like him and who has been impersonating him all over Europe, touting a Diasporic model for the resettlement of the Jewish people back to their homelands. Not much action takes place, but Roth is able to spin layers of paranoia, so much so that you often do think you're reading non-fiction. Only a master storyteller could produce something like this. Fans of Auster would love what Roth has done with text.

"Operation Shylock" stands as an important text, especially considering the fact that Roth is one of the best living writers today. I look forawrd to his Nobel Acceptance Speech.

This is a truly imaginative and thought-provoking novel. There are some good reviews posted with valid points/warnings to the average reader, most notably that the book is "too Jewish," too academic, and that Roth uses it as a vehicle to show how enamored he is with himself. Fair enough, but this can be read on different levels.

There are two main characters: the false-Roth and the real-Roth. The false-Roth mirrors and complicates the real-Roth. The false-Roth worships the real-Roth, but is also sexually insecure, bears a sense of worthlessness, is a martyr for anti-Semitism, is a politically correct fraud, and a Diasporist above all else. The writer Roth probably lies somewhere between the two, which perhaps is nowhere, but that's one of many interesting rubs. Beyond the personal, the endless impacting of these two characters is meant by the writer-Roth to show that Jewishness in general and Zionism in particular are divisive, complex, almost cursed issues, and that those too surely footed on any side of an argument over Jewish identity better take a good look at both themselves and history before judging someone on the other end of that argument. That includes you, President Carter. There is a larger scale argument going on here: that anti-Semitism is something that everyone possesses to one degree or another, including Jews. The jumping-off points for this only begin with Zionist politics. I'm not sure I agree with that, but I do believe we all harbor some prejudices, which can rise to the surface in distressful situations and this is perhaps the obvious protraction of Roth's argument.

As any careful reader of Roth knows, he despises political correctness, probably in part because he has noticed that the purveyors of this fascist-minded mentality have not only put limits on acceptable speech (anathema to Roth's style) but have only allowed for certain groups to take cover. He even suggests that the entire billboard-scale `Holocaust consciousness' movement is the overt penitent inversion/reflection for various levels of anti-Semitism that continue insidiously to be taken for granted.

Yes, the book is written in an academic style, but I thought the author was tap-dancing on top of that style as if to show that he can do it, too (if he wanted.) And there is a moment of unforgivable tawdriness, in which the author takes a classless shot at his first-ex-wife (who really did die in a car accident).

I would recommend this book to anyone interested in Zionist politics or Jewish-Ameican culture. Consider reading it if you can imagine that we all harbor some degree of prejudice, particularly anti-Semitism, and please do not be fooled by Roth's apparent self-absorption. He's been accused of that in the past (along with anti-Semitism). Here, though, it's a ruse for self-examination, mockery, an examination of his own sense of Jewishness, and ideas that loom larger than the man. Perhaps could have been edited down some, but still a fascinating mind trip.

This is my first Philip Roth novel. Having just finished it, I must confess my reluctance to proceed to the next. I will, of course, do so. A writer of Roth's stature doesn't become a writer of Roth's stature without producing some outstanding work. The fact that so many reviewers, on this page and in the press, regard OS as one of Roth's outstanding works, however, makes me wonder. OS has been touted as a brilliant novel of ideas -- ideas, presumably, about history; Jewish history; one's debt to history; the Israeli/Palestinian conflict; writing; the writer's identity; the writer's responsibility to society; how writers create and are created by others; the writer as split personality; identity in general; etc. True, these ideas and more are bandied about in this book, but never in a more than marginally compelling way. To characterize OS as a novel of ideas is to do a gross disservice to the relatively few novels that merit the distinction. So, too, am I puzzled by those reviewers who consider OS a work of comic genius. Granted, there are some very funny moments in OS. But they are few and far between. Unless, of course, you happen to find great humor in a mind (that of the novelist-as-protagonist) spinning hopelessly out of control. OS is funny like the DSM IV is funny. Its brand of humor is the sort that English professors describe in lectures as "comedy of the highest order" and college students duly describe in essays as the same, all the while wondering what the hell's so funny. I'll grant, the second half of OS is much better than the first -- better written, better paced, more compelling narratively, so it wasn't a complete slog to get through this novel. Far from one of the great novels of our time, however, OS struck this reader at least as an exercise in diaristic writing/dream interpretation/self-analysis run amok. I look forward, still, to reading Roth's other novels. I just can't understand the fuss about this one.

This is my first Philip Roth novel. Having just finished it, I must confess my reluctance to proceed to the next. I will, of course, do so. A writer of Roth's stature doesn't become a writer of Roth's stature without producing some outstanding work. The fact that so many reviewers, on this page and in the press, regard OS as one of Roth's outstanding works, however, makes me wonder. OS has been touted as a brilliant novel of ideas -- ideas, presumably, about history; Jewish history; one's debt to history; the Israeli/Palestinian conflict; writing; the writer's identity; the writer's responsibility to society; how writers create and are created by others; the writer as split personality; identity in general; etc. True, these ideas and more are bandied about in this book, but never in a more than marginally compelling way. To characterize OS as a novel of ideas is to do a gross disservice to the relatively few novels that merit the distinction. So, too, am I puzzled by those reviewers who consider OS a work of comic genius. Granted, there are some very funny moments in OS. But they are few and far between. Unless, of course, you happen to find great humor in a mind (that of the novelist-as-protagonist) spinning hopelessly out of control. OS is funny like the DSM IV is funny. Its brand of humor is the sort that English professors describe in lectures as "comedy of the highest order" and college students duly describe in essays as the same, all the while wondering what the hell's so funny. I'll grant, the second half of OS is much better than the first -- better written, better paced, more compelling narratively, so it wasn't a complete slog to get through this novel. Far from one of the great novels of our time, however, OS struck this reader at least as an exercise in diaristic writing/dream interpretation/self-analysis run amok. I look forward, still, to reading Roth's other novels. I just can't understand the fuss about this one.

Philip Roth is fast becoming one of my favorite living writers, and Operation Shylock was a major reason why. Having read American Pastoral, Portnoy's Complaint, and the Human Stain previously, for me Operation Shylock was the most haunting of his novels. It does seem unfortunate that readers have failed to grasp the crux of the novel, which is identity dislocation, and instead read the novel baldly and I am tempted to address some of the criticism found here directly, but will instead speak directly to my thoughts on the novel. If met on its own terms, this novel is both powerful and complex.
Philip Roth is often accused of disloyalty. He has been called a self-hating Jew, an anti-liberal, amongst other accusations, usually by groups or people who believe he is the voice of their cause. This historical context underlies the psychological conundrum of Operation Shylock in which Roth plays fast and loose with his own public persona as a writer, thinker, and Jew. He beginsthe story with an account of psychological severance that leads into a cat and mouse, noir-ish chase through Israel after his other "self". Far from self-promotion, he uses the gravitas of his writerly image as another example of disclocation- showing that the "real" him is as far from the other "self" as from his "public" self. He dives into the murky waters of Racial identity (his-jewish), present-past continuity of self, and the ideological (does and idea define a person?).
The versimilitude of the novel allows Roth the ability to dissect his own identity very publicly. Though he sometimes lampoons and satrizes his critics (even Dante did that!), in reality, the book delves much deeper and gives a much more probing exploration to these issues than are typically covered in the NYTimes bestseller/oprah book club style books. This is real literature that will outlast and transcend most other contemporary fiction.

So read and enjoy. You're in for a challenging, entertaining, and thought-provoking ride.

Philip Roth is a taste I haven't acquired yet. He is lauded by critics - including Harold Bloom, who just happens to be a friend of his - as perhaps the greatest living American writer. Before this novel, I had only read Portnoy's Complaint, which I couldn't even finish; I found it hopelessly dated, pedantic, and repetitive. I like Operation Shylock more than Portnoy's Complaint, I guess - although I can't say that I really ENJOYED either. However, at least things happen in this novel. The gimmick of the book is that it is a "confession" - a story of supposedly true events that happened to Philip Roth in 1988. The story concerns the emergence of a "fake" Philip Roth who is traveling around Israel, promoting the cause of "Diasporism" - the relocation of Israel's Jews back to Europe. The real Roth travels to Jerusalem to confront his impostor.

Having now read the book, it is difficult to tell whether or not the real Roth is for Diasporism. There is a lot of anti-Zionist rhetoric in the book - much of which I found distasteful - but is that the "real" Roth or not? Is he really anti-Zionist? It's hard to say, because he frequently asserts how foolish Diasporism is: the European community would not welcome the Jews back with open arms.

Somewhere in one of Raymond Chandler's novels, Philip Marlowe mocks Hemmingway as a man who thinks saying the same thing over and over makes it profound. Well, the same thing can be said of Philip Roth. There are a lot of things about his style I don't like. He is very pedantic: he always has an axe to grind, but instead, he grinds his readers into the ground. He allows his characters to speak, sometimes for pages at a time, without so much as starting a new paragraph. His most annoying trait however, is how in love with himself he is. It's odd but true - if you keep saying how great you are, people will believe you. Through his characters, he lavishes praise onto himself and his books. Also, he's apparently catnip to the ladies.

Is this novel non-fiction? Of course not. Will I ever read another Philip Roth novel? Probably - with so many critics telling me I'm wrong, I have to allow for that possibility. I'm just not looking forward to the experience.

This is an interesting book but not interesting enough for me to want to re-read it. The book is about an author who, after suffering severe depression caused by a sleep medication, becomes involved with the Mossad and his own double. By the end of the book, one is wondering if this was not one more hallucination.