Many writers base their work on their own lives, but with Philip Roth the practice borders on narcissism. In "Zuckerman Unbound," which takes place in Manhattan in 1969, Nathan Zuckerman, a simulacrum of Roth himself, is an author who has just published a commercially and critically successful novel called "Carnovsky," which seems very similar to "Portnoy's Complaint." Hesitant to adjust to his new life as a millionaire, he continues to live like a schlub, riding the bus and eating in cheap delicatessens, even though his face has been on the cover of Life magazine and people recognize him in public.
Fame has its disadvantages; Zuckerman is besieged by letters and solicitations from fans, freaks, and creeps, especially the thug who keeps phoning him threatening to kidnap his mother for ransom. One day he meets a fellow Newark native named Alvin Pepler, a burly but obsequious and tirelessly garrulous man who is trying to write a book about his unlucky involvement in a quiz show scandal in the fifties and seeks Zuckerman's help in getting it published and advice about writing in general. The nonchalant but slightly amused manner in which Zuckerman reacts to the possibly psychopathic Pepler, who quickly becomes defensive after he asks for (and receives) criticism, is one of the novel's enjoyable subtleties.
Zuckerman's love life is an aching echo of his fictional Carnovsky's. His marital record is extremely shaky; he is twice divorced and currently separated from his wife Laura, a lawyer who defends draft dodgers evading Vietnam. His fame allows him an otherwise improbable consort--the voluptuous but aging Irish actress Caesara O'Shea, who is growing bored with all the attention she gets even while her star is slowly fading. "I feel like the out-of-focus signpost in a news photo of a head-on collision," he tells her, acknowledging the meagerness of his appearance juxtaposed with her radiance.
One important thing Zuckerman must face is the psychological effect of the notoriety of his erotic novel on his family, particularly when he and his younger brother Henry fly down to the retirement community in Florida where their parents now live to be at the bedside of their dying father. Zuckerman's mother worships him and thinks he can do no wrong; it is Henry who decides to slap him with guilt when they return home. Henry, after all, was the "good son," the sensible one who became a dentist, married a nice girl he didn't really love, and despite his clandestine extramarital affairs would never write a book like "Carnvosky" filled with sexual depravity and Jewish self-ridicule.
I suppose there was a time (say, in Charles Dickens's day) when novelists enjoyed the same kind of celebrity as movie stars do today, but this notion seems quaint by Zuckermanian standards. An author must write a "Carnovsky/Portnoy's Complaint" to be noticed because in this age a "Pride and Prejudice" or a "Wuthering Heights" doesn't have quite the same visual impact. "Zuckerman Unbound" reveals a Philip Roth who perhaps is wistful about a cultural consciousness which books play a more prominent role in shaping.