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Authors: Philip Roth

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BOOK: The Anatomy Lesson
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That got her.


You and Jesus. My God,

she said,

there really are people who think they can get away with anything.


Why not Jesus? They hated him too. Men of sorrows acquainted with grief. Appel Dolorosus.



Grief? What about pleasure? Power? What about wealth?


That

s true. I admit it. I love pleasure. I love to ejaculate. To ejaculate is a deep, wonderful feeling. My wife and I had sex the night before I left. She had her period, I was
horny
, and so she gave me a blow job. It felt great. It felt so great that I couldn

t sleep. Two hours later I jerked off. I didn

t want to let go of the feeling. I wanted to feel it again. But she woke up and saw me coming, and she started to cry. She doesn

t understand. But you do, don

t you, a woman of the world like you?

She did not bother to answer. Did what she was paid to do and drove. Superhuman restraint, Zuckerman thought. Make some novelist a wonderful wife.


So you do think I debase women. That

s why whatever I would offer you, you still wouldn

t come with me back to New York.

When she did not reply, Zuckerman leaned forward in his seat, the better to drop each word in her ear.

Because you are a God damn feminist.


Look, Mr. Dolorosus, I drive who pays me. This is my car and I do what I like. I work for myself. I

m not under contract to Hefner out here—I don

t want to be under contract to you there.


Because you are a God damn feminist.


No, because that partition between you and me in this car is there for me as well. Because the truth is I

m not interested
at all
in your life, and I certainly wouldn

t go to New York and become involved in that kind of setup. It smells bad, if you want to know my opinion. And it

s your honesty that stinks the most. You think because you

re honest and open about it, that it

s acceptable. But that doesn

t make it acceptable. It only makes it worse. Even your honesty is a way of debasing things.


Am I worse than the executives you drive around who are screwing the American worker? Am I worse than the politicians you drive around who are screwing the American nigger?


I don

t know. Most of them are quiet in the back. They

ve got their briefcases and they

re writing out their little notes, and I don

t know how awful they are, or if they

re awful at all. But I do know about you.


And I

m the worst person you ever met.


Probably. I don

t know you intimately. I

m sure your wife would say you were.


The worst.


I would think so.


You feel sorry for my wife, do you?


Oh God, yes. To try to have an ordinary life, to try to bring up a child and to have a fairly decent life—and with a man like you? With a man whose life is devoted to

cunts

and

cocks

and

coming,

to

pussy

or whatever you like to call it—?


You feel sorry for me too, Ricky?


You? No.
You
want it. But
she
doesn

t want that kind of life. I feel sorry for your child.


The poor child too.


Personally I would think your child

s chances are nil, Mr. Appel. Oh, I

m sure you do love him in your egomaniacal way

but to grow up and know that that was what your father did for a living, and that he was pretty famous for it, well, that

s a tough start in life, isn

t it? Of course if you want him to run your empire, he

s set. But is that what you

re sending him to the best private schools for? To run
Lickety Split
?
I
feel sorry for your wife, I feel sorry for your child, and I feel sorry for all the people who sit in the movie theaters to watch your Superca
rn
al productions. I

m sorry for them if that

s what it takes to get them turned on. And I

m sorry for the girls in those films, if that

s how they have to make a living. I wasn

t trained for anything,
either. I was trained to get married, and that didn

t work out very well. So now I

m a chauffeur. And a good one. I wouldn

t do the kind of work they do, never—and not because I

m feminist: because it would ruin my sex life, and I like sex too much to have it ruined. I

d have the scars forever. Privacy is as good a cause as pornography, you know. No, I don

t find you unacceptable because I

m a God damn feminist. It

s because I

m a human being. You don

t just debase women. Only part of it

s the exploitation of these dumb women. You debase everything. Your life is filth. On every level. And you make it all the more awful because you won

t even shut up.


Oh. but let

s just stick to women, my dear human being

to those girls you feel so sorry for. who don

t happen to run their own limousines. There are girls, some of them, in my pictures, that are such bubbleheads they don

t even know how to brush their teeth—and I pay

em a hundred bucks an hour. Is this debasing women? Is this scarring them for life, giving them money to pay the rent? I

ve been on the set where I

ve taken girls to the bathroom and washed
then feet
for them because they were so dirty. Is this debasing women? If someone smells bad, we show her feminine hygiene. Because some of these girls, my dear human being, some of them come in off the street stinking even worse than I do. But we go out and buy the whole kit for them and show them how to use it. Most of these girls, when they work for me, they enter idiots and leave at least
resembling
what I take to be people. Shirley Temper happens to be as bright as any actress working in the legitimate theater. Why is she doing it? She

s doing it because she is pulling in
a thousand dollars a day. My money.
Is that debasing women? She

s doing it because a Broadway play opens and closes in a week and she

s back with the unemployed, while with me she works all the lime, has the dignity of a working person, and gets the chance to play a whole variety of roles. Sure, some of them are the classic woman who is looking for a strong pimp to rob them blind. Some people are always going to be exploited and not take responsibility for their own lives. Exploiting goes on everywhere there are people willing to be exploited. But Shirley says fuck that. And she didn

t belong to the college sorority with Jane Fonda and Gloria Steinem. Scranton PA, that was her college. Fuck that, she said, age sixteen, and got out from behind a checkout counter at the A&P—out of the Scranton slums to make fifty grand her first year in the business. At
sixteen.
The
girls who are in
porno
films, most of them take
pride
in what they do. It turns you on to drive the big limo and dress yourself up in a man

s uniform? Well, it turns them on to show their pussies. They enjoy the exhibitionism, and who are you in your Gestapo boots to tell them that they shouldn

t? There are guys out there jerking off over them. They love that. That

s exploitation? That

s debasement? That

s power, sister. What you have got behind this wheel. Marilyn Monroe is dead, but kids all over America are still flogging their dum-dums over those tits. That

s exploitation of Marilyn Monroe? That

s her immortality! She

s nothing in the ground, but to kids who haven

t even been
born
yet, she

ll always be this great piece of ass. These are women who feel no shame about fucking in public. They love it. Nobody

s forcing anybody to do anything. If the ribbon counter at Woolworth

s makes them feel liberated, let

em work there for two bucks an hour. There are enough bodies you can get, enough women who want to do it for money or kicks, for catharsis, that you don

t have to force people. The fact is that the women have it easier than anybody. They can fake orgasm, but for the poor guy up in front of the lights, it

s no picnic. The guy who exhibits the greatest bravado, who says. Hey, I

d like to do that, I got a big cock—he can

t get it up at all. Exploited? If anybody

s exploited it

s the God damn
men.
Most of these girls are on a total ego trip in front of the camera. Sure I had animals in my last film, but nobody there forced anybody to fuck them. Chuck Raw, my star, walked off the picture because of the dog. He says,

I love dogs and I won

t be a party to this, Milton. Banging women fucks up their minds—they can

t handle it. Any dog who fucks a woman is finished as an animal.

I respected Chuck for that. I have the courage of my convictions, he had the courage of his. Don

t you get the idea yet? Nobody is putting these people in chains! E am taking them
out
of their chains!
I
am a monster with something to offer! I am changing American fucking forever! I am setting this country free!

 

A third Percodan and the stupor began. Suddenly no words would stick in his mind, all the words were flying apart and no two seconds would hold together. To know what he was thinking required an enormous effort. By the time he found an answer, he could no longer remember the question. Laboriously he had to begin again. Beyond the fog there was a moat and beyond the moat an airy blankness. Don

t ask how, but beyond that, out
of the window and above the lake, he saw a marvel of gentle inaudible movement: snow failing. There was nothing that could ever equal coming home through the snow in late afternoon from Chancellor Avenue School, That was the best life had to offer. Snow was childhood, protected, carefree, loved, obedient. Then came audacity, after audacity doubt, after doubt pain. What does chronic pain teach us? Step to the front of the class and write your answer on the board. Chronic pain teaches us: one. what well-being is; two, what cowardice is; three, a little something of what it is to be sentenced to hard labor. Pain is work. What else, Nathan, what above everything? It teaches us who is boss. Correct. Now list all the ways of confronting chronic pain. You can suffer it. You can struggle against it. You can hate it. You can attempt to understand it. You can try running. And if none of these techniques provide relief? Percodan, said Zuckerman; if nothing else works, then the hell with consciousness as the highest value: drink vodka and take drugs. To make so much of consciousness may have been my first mistake. There is much to be said for irresponsible stupefaction. That is something I never believed and am still reluctant to admit. But it

s true: pain is ennobling in the long run, I

m sure, but a dose of stupefaction isn

t bad either. Stupefaction can

t make you a hero the way suffering can, but it certainly is merciful and sweet.

BOOK: The Anatomy Lesson
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