Philip Roth is not just for dads. His fiction of the late 1970s–when his infamy was in full bloom from Portnoy’s Complaint–is the kind of thing that’s easy to miss but crucial to seek out.
Choose from this era his slim novel, The Ghost Writer, and prepare to be spooked in the brainiest way possible. It is a quiet and freakish novel, as well as a cult favorite among those for whom Roth is America’s preeminent man of letters. It is less than 200 pages, will take only a few nights to read, and involves some zany Anne Frank-related theorizing. Your dreams will be significantly effected. Promise.
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