From the back cover:
Port­noy’s Com­plaint n. [after Alexan­der Port­noy (1933- )] A dis­or­der in which strong­ly-felt eth­i­cal and altru­is­tic impuls­es are per­pet­u­al­ly war­ring with extreme sex­u­al long­ings, often of a per­verse nature. Spielvo­gel says: ​‘Acts of exhi­bi­tion­ism, voyeurism, fetishism, auto-eroti­cism and oral coitus are plen­ti­ful; as a con­se­quence of the patien­t’s ​“moral­i­ty,” how­ev­er, nei­ther fan­ta­sy nor act issues in gen­uine sex­u­al grat­i­fi­ca­tion, but rather in over­rid­ing feel­ings of shame and the dread of ret­ri­bu­tion, par­tic­u­lar­ly in the form of cas­tra­tion.’ (Spielvo­gel, O. ​“The Puz­zled Penis,“Inter­na­tionale Zeitschrift für Psy­cho­analyse, Vol. XXIV, p. 909.) It is believed by Spielvo­gel that many of the symp­toms can be traced to the bonds obtain­ing in the moth­er-child relationship.

Really, this definition does describe the entirety of the book pretty clearly. The amount of sex, racism, and misogynism in this book is not to be undersold. However, one can easily see how at the time it was written that this book would have caught the attention of so many readers. Alexander Portnoy is absolutely obsessed with sex and seems to always be trying to find ways to find gratification. He seems pretty self-aware that his thoughts and actions are inappropriate but he either lacks true conscience or empathy. Throughout the book Alexander addresses comments to Spielvogel who is very clearly his psychoanalyst. I was equally offended by, angry at, and sympathetic to Portnoy. But when I reached the end of the book and realized that the entire story was a preparatory inner monologue prior to an appointment with Spielvogel, I actually laughed out loud. After all, some people do tend to have these internal conversations in the same way some people clean their houses before the cleaning crew arrives. ( )

Der Titel ist Programm... Ein junger Mann lamentiert sich durch das Buch. Das mag stilistisch gut ausgeführt sein, mein Fall ist das nicht. Deshalb bei gut 35% abgebrochen.

I was sifting through a box of old books from my shed and found this edition without a cover and missing page 37 (where one of Portnoy's testicles retreats into his body). Nevertheless, I began to read and Phillip Roth rapidly sucked (yes, sucked) me in to this damnable, relentlessly pejorative, monologue of Jewishness. There were many times I felt almost contaminated by the endless guilt, insecurity and Yiddish hatred of non- Jewish goyim, girls or shikses and just wanted it to end or go somewhere else.

But the shikses, ah, the shikses are something else again […] I am so awed that I am in a state of desire beyond a hard-on. My circumcised little dong is simply shriveled up with veneration. Maybe it’s dread. How do they get so gorgeous, so healthy, so blonde? My contempt for what they believe in is more than neutralized by my adoration of the way they look, the way they move and laugh and speak.

Is this why an essentially Jewish Hollywood movie industry fetishized and then spat out the blonde temptress? Is it Jewishness that is responsible for what is seen today as the objectification of women? Portnoy in name (Port Noir) is the black gate to, depravity, guilt, insecurity or what? By culminating in Portnoy's failed attempt to rape a red-headed Jewish/Israeli girl (his monstrous mother) due to lack of an erection, it is as though nothing is resolved. It's an extraordinary diatribe of a book that eventually just peters out (literally in a series of dots) with a weak punchline - exhausted.

The blurb says it is a funny book and I did laugh out- loud a few times:

...my father is a man who has a certain amount of worrying to do each day, and sometimes has to forgo listening to the conversations going on around him in order to fulfill his anxiety requirement. It can well be that he hasn't heard a word that she's been saying.

( )

I am most assuredly female and there were many parts of this book that caused great eye-rolling from me. I sympathized with The Monkey more than Portnoy. I hope I spell a bit better. I recognized a couple of my Jewish boyfriends.

Overall, it was an enjoyable read. ( )

not hard to understand the popularity of this book. there really is 'something for everyone' (male readers only). ostensibly, we have the humorous aspect of the work. there are some nice 'tongue in cheek' (so to speak) riffs. however, the real achievement here is the sleek embodiment of the modern reactionary (and curiously freudian) notion that all so-called 'do gooders' are motivated, at least in part, by psychosis. ( )