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Commemorating Philip Roth means confronting his limitations head on
(JTA) — Next Sunday marks the 90th anniversary of Philip Roth’s birth. In celebration of the famed novelist’s work, a scholarly conference titled “Roth@90,” sponsored by the Philip Roth Society, will be held starting Wednesday at the Newark Public Library. That will be followed by a weekend of high-profile events — staged readings, panel discussions, a bus tour of Roth’s old Newark neighborhood — co-presented by the library and the New Jersey Performing Arts Center.
Exactly 10 years ago, we commemorated his 80th birthday in a similar fashion. Dozens of Roth scholars made learned presentations about his work, of which Roth attended exactly zero. Later that week, the author read aloud from his novel “Sabbath’s Theater” in front of hundreds of fans, friends and well wishers. The proceedings were televised on C-Span.
Roth was being acclaimed for having just wound down an exemplary career. With the exception of the Nobel Prize, what garland evaded him? Was there a high-culture literary platform where his name wasn’t a virtual watermark? Could he publish any novel without hundreds of reviews being written in newspapers across the world? Was there a serious fiction writer out there with greater renown?
So much has changed in the decade between the two conferences. To begin with, Roth died in 2018. In that same span, the country witnessed the election of Donald Trump and the fissure it exposed in society in general and the Jewish community in particular. America endured one convulsive racial reckoning after another. Finally, in October of 2017, the #MeToo movement gained massive public salience.
All of those events, along with digital media’s indomitable ascent, have combined to affect and reshape Roth’s literary legacy. That legacy is far less assured than all the (justified) praise and lionizing that will occur this week might suggest.
Let’s start with Jews. The Trump era yielded two seemingly irreconcilable data points. On the one hand, Jewish-Americans endured the Charlottesville riot, the Tree of Life synagogue attack and a stunning rise in antisemitic incidents. On the other, there was staunch support for Trump among Orthodox Jews and supporters of Israel’s right wing.
Leaving that conundrum for others to parse, I simply note that Orthodox Jews and right-wing Zionists are almost completely absent in Roth’s fiction. A young Roth wrote a sensitive portrait of Holocaust survivors who want to start a suburban yeshiva in “Eli the Fanatic.” He also sketched a militant religious-nationalist Zionist in “The Counterlife,” Mordecai Lippman, who, according to Roth biographer Blake Bailey (about whom more below), was based on Elyakim Haetzni, one of the so-called founding fathers of the settlement movement. In the same novel, a version of the narrator’s brother falls under the settlement leader’s sway.
And that’s it, across a half century of writing. For traditionalist Jewish readers, whose political and social influence in the United States and Israel is substantial and growing, Roth’s fiction is not a mirror, nor a signpost, nor a scroll upon which is inscribed some essential truth.
The Jews who populated his stories, the Jews he best understood, were of Ashkenazi descent, white, liberal, assimilated and secular. His courage was to valorize them over and against other Jews who viewed them as defective, lost or even as apostates. Thus Anne Frank in “The Ghost Writer” was portrayed as a patron saint of secular Judaism. Elsewhere, his stories abound in proud, professionally accomplished diaspora Jews. They rarely think about God. Synagogue attendance is reserved strictly for lifecycle events and High Holy Days, if that.
A novelist, of course, is not a political clairvoyant. However, the immediate future of Judaism is being greatly shaped by Jews whose population and influence are growing and whom Roth rarely portrayed. In this manner, another stellar writer like Cynthia Ozick — herself Orthodox and quite attuned to the mindset of her co-religionists — might fare better commercially and emerge as more relevant than her friend in the coming decades.
Roth didn’t just write about Jews. In my book “The Philip Roth We Don’t Know: Sex, Race and Autobiography,” I pointed out that depicting non-Jewish Black people was an unrecognized “obsessional theme” across his 28 novels and 25 short stories. Much to my dismay, I found Roth’s multi-decade treatment of his African and African-American characters often to be crude, thoughtless and sometimes racist.
Familiarize yourself with the degrading portraiture we receive of Black people in “The Great American Novel” (1973), or a short story like “On the Air” (1970), and you might reconsider what Roth was after in “The Human Stain,” in which an academic who is accused of racism turns out to be an African American who had been “passing” as white and Jewish. The book, the 2001 Pen/Faulkner Award winner, is often seen as a sensitive treatment of racial issues in America, and perhaps as the author’s attempt to extend the hand of friendship to another oppressed minority.
In fact, my best guess is that, as with many Jewish writers post-1967, Roth was shaken by the deterioration of the Black-Jewish alliance. His frustrations were reflected in prose that often referenced Black communities in his hometown of Newark but showed little curiosity about their lives or sympathy for their plight.
Obviously, this type of literary rendering of African Americans — or any minority group — is disturbing and dated. Insensitive racial representation inspires calls for publishers to drop authors. They disappear from high-school or college syllabi. This bodes ominously for the afterlives of the titans of post-World War II American fiction, including John Updike, Saul Bellow Bellow and Norman Mailer, all three of whom have been accused of being racially insensitive and worse.
Roth’s marketability also seems to be sailing into a squall regarding gender. As women began demanding an accounting of sexual abuse and misogyny within the media, entertainment and other industries, numerous think-pieces wondered how the author of “Portnoy’s Complaint” — whose libidinous narrator identifies most of the women in his life by debasing nicknames — would fare in such an environment. Would he — should he — be “canceled”?
The question is more complex than his admirers and detractors make it out to be. No doubt, many of Roth’s male characters mistreated women. Accusations of Roth himself doing the same exist, but they are fairly rare, unsubstantiated and contested. The dilemma for researchers is that Roth was a deeply auto-fictional writer. You sense his presence in his stories — especially when protagonists share much of his biography, including Nathan Zuckerman and Peter Tarnopol, and when characters are named “Philip Roth.”
It’s hard not to speculate about the relation between the author and the many misogynistic fellows who cut an erotic swath through his pages. There will, of course, be readers who give him the benefit of the doubt. They might observe that Roth’s toxic males provide evidence of women’s experiences that needs to be explored, not censored.
Not helping him cleanse his reputation were the numerous allegations of sexual misconduct leveled against his hand-picked biographer, Blake Bailey. The ructions engulfing Bailey came to dominate the discourse about Roth, leading to a peculiar cancellation by proxy.
The episode also revealed that Roth had instructed his estate to eventually destroy a massive trove of personal papers he entrusted to Bailey. This led Aimee Pozorski (co-editor of Philip Roth Studies), myself and 20 other Roth scholars to issue a statement reminding his executors that “scholarship can only be advanced when qualified researchers engage freely with essential sources.”
As if all these concerns weren’t enough, his grim prophecies about the demise of an audience for serious literature seem to be coming true. “The book,” Roth worried, “can’t compete with the screen.” Meanwhile, the English major is in a very bad way, and the institution of tenure is under siege. Professors (insufferable as we might be) teach the next generation who to read and how to read. Writers might not like them, but they need them.
Roth is also getting the scrutiny that he was at pains to avoid in his lifetime. His disregard for scholars who might be critical of him always struck me, one such scholar, as misguided. Instead, he surrounded himself with friends — friends who had preternatural access to major media platforms. These friends built upon his own interpretations of his own work. It doesn’t mean they lacked wisdom. It just means that when they talked about Roth, they talked about what Roth wanted them to talk about. To wit: Jewish Newark, his sundry interpretations of his life, his pesky ex-wives and lovers, the close-mindedness of his critics, and so forth.
I think, in this cultural moment, it’s prudent to confront Roth’s limitations head on and chart one’s own path through his fiction. I pitch him to my students as a writer with some racial, religious and sexual hang-ups — who among us is innocent of those charges? I also present him as a bearer of unique and meaningful insights. Let scholars (while they still exist) parade those insights into sunlight.
I’ve tried to illuminate that his fiction was preoccupied, for 50 years, by how individual and collective bodies (like the Jews) change. Transformation, metamorphosis, metempsychosis — his obsession with those themes, I’ve noticed in my classrooms, is shared by Gen Z. If the span between Roth@80 and Roth@90 has taught us anything, it is that Roth was right: Life is about radical, unpredictable flux. Now his own legacy is in flux. I wonder who will read Roth@100.
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My Path to Being More Observant: Building a Jewish Life on Love, Not Fear
Reading from a Torah scroll in accordance with Sephardi tradition. Photo: Sagie Maoz via Wikimedia Commons.
I love connecting Jews to Judaism. There’s a big part of the Jewish world where people don’t know what they’re missing out on. If people have only ever been exposed to one stream of Judaism from a young age, their worldview will be shaped by that experience. We have access to knowledge, spirituality, and meaningful ways to connect to G-d, and we should be sharing this with all Jews.
I try to show them love by inviting them to Shabbat dinners and powerful experiences. These are all very important things to me. But I wasn’t always this way.
I grew up in Sharon, Massachusetts, surrounded by a rich tapestry of Jewish life. I attended Temple Israel, a Conservative synagogue, spent summers at Camp YJ in Amherst, New Hampshire, and was involved in BBYO throughout high school. Between Hebrew school three days a week and my parents hosting many Jewish holidays, Judaism was woven into the fabric of my daily life.
Yet despite this strong foundation, my journey to Aish’s yeshiva program wasn’t something anyone might have predicted. I was always connected with Judaism growing up, and I had many Modern Orthodox friends in college, but yeshiva wasn’t initially on my radar. That changed when I got to the University of Michigan.
At Michigan, I connected with Michigan Hillel and became deeply involved in Israel activism and Jewish student leadership. I also developed a meaningful relationship with Rabbi Fully Eisenberger, at the Jewish Resource Center, who taught me for four years. The Jewish Resource Center at Michigan became instrumental in my growth, supported my learning journey, and gave me confidence in my decisions.
The Jewish Resource Center was tremendous to me. I really felt supported in my journey and my learning, and that allowed me to feel confident in my decisions to go to Aish.
I had visited Israel four times before that point, starting with a five-week trip through Camp YJ in 2019. After I graduated from Michigan, I had a consulting job lined up in Manhattan starting in February, which gave me a perfect window of time in between. I decided Israel was my best option to increase my Jewish knowledge and set up my Jewish future for success. Ultimately, that meant yeshiva.
Having arrived at Aish in September 2025, I dived headfirst into intensive Jewish learning. While my studies have been overwhelmingly positive, the transition hasn’t been without its challenges. I’ll admit that my biggest hurdle is wanting to run before I know how to walk.
I wish I could read Gemara all day, but translations are hard for me. Sometimes you just have to take your time and say the words correctly and with intention. Time is my challenge. That’s my hurdle.
Despite these mild frustrations, I have found incredible support among my rabbis. Rabbi Daniel Schloss has been particularly influential in helping me understand halakha, Jewish law. The way he gets me to think through the principles of Shabbat is very powerful, because it shows I have the ability to interpret halakha and use it correctly. He’s an incredible teacher.
Rabbi Ethan Katz has also been instrumental in my growth, as he’s helped me learn to study at a pace that I desired, and I’m grateful for that. He has such positive energy, and I really appreciate that.
Throughout my journey, my family has been remarkably supportive. My parents have embraced this increasingly observant path I have been traveling, catering to my needs and ensuring I can build the Jewish future I envision. While they haven’t necessarily followed the same trajectory themselves, their gift to me was the foundation that made everything else possible.
Even as I learn, I’m always looking for ways to give back. Before arriving here, I led a Birthright Israel trip, and will be leading another one. I look forward to the day when I can host people regularly and get involved with outreach organizations back in New York.
People often ask me if I’m wary of being in New York, but I refuse to let others define my Jewish identity. Our Judaism is made up of things we love. We love being Jewish, celebrating the holidays, and connecting with the community. I’m looking to find positive ways to build my Judaism.
Thanks to my upbringing and studies, I feel confident and proud of my Judaism. I want to bring that confidence and passion with me, ready to share what I’ve learned and continue growing in my connection to the most fulfilling Jewish life.
The author holds a Bachelor’s degree in Economics and a minor in Entrepreneurship and Judaic Studies from the University of Michigan, and recently attended Yeshiva in Israel at Aish.
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Holocaust Survivor, 96, Celebrates Aliyah to Israel With Five Generations of Descendants
Charlotte Roth’s aliyah ceremony, attended by five generations of her descendants. Photo: Nefesh B’Nefesh
Holocaust survivor Charlotte Roth formally immigrated to Israel on Wednesday and celebrated with an aliyah ceremony attended by her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren who live in the Jewish state.
“It is a truly wonderful moment in my life to be able to call myself Israeli, a citizen of our Jewish state,” said Roth, 96. “Walking these streets with five generations of my family fills my heart with deep joy and strength, especially when I see Israeli soldiers and feel safety and pride where there was once fear.”
Aliyah refers to the process of Jews immigrating to Israel.
Roth made the move to Israel with help from Nefesh B’Nefesh — a nonprofit organization that promotes and facilitates aliyah from the US and Canada — and the Israeli government’s Population and Immigration Authority, in cooperation with the Ministry of Aliyah and Integration and three nonprofits: The Jewish Agency for Israel, Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael, and Jewish National Fund–USA.
The Holocaust survivor was born in Czechoslovakia. In 1944 during Passover, at the age of 14, Roth’s family was forced into a Jewish ghetto. Weeks later the family was deported to the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp in a cattle car and faced horrific conditions during their transportation. Upon arrival at the Nazi death camp, which was the second day of the Jewish holiday of Shavuot, Roth was separated from her mother and siblings, and never saw them again.
Roth did forced labor in Auschwitz. She survived the Nazi concentration camp, a death march, and imprisonment in another camp before she was liberated at the end of World War II. Her mother and siblings did not survive the Holocaust and before she had a chance to reunite with her father, he committed suicide, thinking that his whole family had died. Roth met her future husband in a Displaced Persons camp, where they married and had their first child before immigrating to the United States. They had four children together and today Roth is the matriarch of nine grandchildren, 26 great-grandchildren, and 11 great-great-grandchildren.
Rabbi Yehoshua Fass, co-founder and executive director of Nefesh B’Nefesh, said Roth’s life journey “is a testament to the extraordinary resilience of the Jewish spirit.”
“From unimaginable darkness emerged a light that has shone for over five generations,” he added. “Her aliyah, surrounded by her family in the Jewish homeland, is profoundly moving and represents courage, renewal, and the enduring triumph of our nation. We are deeply privileged to share in this remarkable moment.”
Roth continues to wear one possession that she still has from before the Holocaust, which is a ring engraved with the initials “IS,” for Ilanka Shvartz, the name she was given at birth.
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DePaul University Denounces Antisemitic Harassment, Targeting of Jewish Students
Students walk into the student center on the campus of DePaul University in Chicago, Illinois, US, Oct. 2, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Jim Vondruska
DePaul University in Chicago has denounced an antisemitic incident which took place near its grounds last Wednesday, with President Robert Manuel saying he is “outraged.”
According to the university, a group of its students, as well as others from Loyola College and Roosevelt University, were harassed at the local Olive & Oak Café during a regular outing hosted by Hillel and the Jewish United Fund. During a verbal onslaught, the perpetrators demanded that the students leave for being Jewish while a JUF staff member was subject to battery, according to a description of the incident told by the Chicago Police Department.
“While this incident occurred off campus, I am outraged that our students were targeted and harassed because of their Jewish identity,” Manuel said in a statement on Monday. “These actions are inexcusable. DePaul University condemns antisemitism in all its forms and will continue to stand firm in doing so, in line with our Catholic, Vincentian values.”
He continued, “We are working to determine whether any of the offenders are affiliated with DePaul community, and we will take swift, consistent action if any violations of university policy are identified … Acts of hate and violence has no place at DePaul — or anywhere. Our commitment to foster a campus environment rooted in dignity, care, and respect for all remains unwavering.”
Last Wednesday’s incident is not the first time Jewish DePaul students have been subject to alleged battery and discrimination.
In November 2024, two Jewish students participating in a pro-Israel demonstration at DePaul University were “brutally” assaulted by two ruffians who concealed their identities with masks. At least one of the men, Adam Erkan, involved in the assault has since pleaded guilty to misdemeanor battery. According to court documents, he approached the victims, Max Long and Michael Kaminsky, in a ski mask while shouting antisemitic epithets and statements. He then attacked both students, fracturing Kaminsky’s wrist and inflicting a brain injury on Long, whom he pummeled into an unconscious state.
Law enforcement identified Erkan, who absconded to another location in a car, after his father came forward to confirm that it was his visage which surveillance cameras captured near the scene of the crime. According to multiple reports, the assailant avoided severer criminal penalties by agreeing to plead guilty to lesser offenses than the felony hate crime counts with which he was originally charged.
His accomplice, described as a man in his age group, remained at large as of late last year.
“One attacker has now admitted guilt for brutally assaulting two Jewish students at DePaul University. That is a step toward justice, but it is nowhere near enough,” The Lawfare Project, a Jewish civil rights advocacy group which represented the Jewish students throughout the criminal proceedings, said in a statement responding to the plea deal. “The second attacker remains at large, and Max and Michael continue to experience ongoing threats. We demand — and fully expect — his swift arrest and prosecution to ensure justice for these students and for the Jewish community harmed by this antisemitic hate crime.”
Antisemitic incidents on US college campuses have exploded nationwide since Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel.
The 2025-2026 academic year has seen a continuation of that pattern.
Earlier this month, a non-student graffitied Nazi insignia on the campus of Northwestern University. The Schutzstaffel (SS) symbol representing the notorious paramilitary group under Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party in Germany was spray-painted on Northwestern’s campus in Evanston, Illinois. The SS played a central role in the Nazis’ systematic killing of 6 million Jews during the Holocaust.
In January, a right-wing influencer and University of Miami student upbraided her Jewish peers in a tirade in which she denounced them as “disgusting” while accusing rabbis of eating infants.
“Christianity, which says love everyone, meanwhile your Bible says eating someone who is a non-Jew is like eating with an animal. That’s what the Talmud says,” the social media influencer, Kaylee Mahony, yelled at members of Students Supporting Israel (SSI) who had a table at a campus fair held at the University of Miami. “That’s what these people follow.”
She continued, “They think that if you are not a Jew you are an animal. That’s the Talmud. That’s the Talmud.”
The Talmud, a key source of Jewish law, tradition, and theology, is often misrepresented by antisemitic agitators in an effort to malign the Jewish people and their religion.
Mahony can also be heard in video of the incident responding to one of the SSI members, saying, “Because you’re disgusting. It’s disgusting.”
Follow Dion J. Pierre @DionJPierre.