Everyman by Phillip Roth

Roth zeroes in on infirmity, infidelity, and loneliness in this rather gloomy little novel. Roth, assuredly, knows how to write a sentence, and his characters are nothing if not heavy. And so is this work. If the last two recent Roth works I've read are any indication, Roth is busy grappling with his own mortality. And for Roth, apparently, this means the shattering realization that one can not go on copulating indefinitely. Roth is as accomplished as a writer could possibly be, and he's got the chops to back it up. I just hope I age a little more gracefully.