I agree with plenty of what senior writer Liel Leibovitz has to say today in Tablet Magazine in his weekly “Arbiter” column. His analysis of how major figures in the American canon, such as Whitman and Dickinson, harnessed their sexual drives in the service of their art is particularly spot-on.

But I can’t sign on to his analysis of Philip Roth. I think he gets a few palpable hits on Portnoy’s Complaint, but I don’t know if you can extend these criticisms to the total of Roth’s ouevre. Despite its title, The Human Stain isn’t driven by cock. Well, mostly not. Somewhat not. Okay, it is a little bit. Anyway, read the essay, and get angry!

The Grapes of Roth