Editor's Column

Philip Roth has had his share of troubles when it comes to women, at least the fictional kind. In the early decades of his career, he was accused by many readers of stacking the deck against his female characters, contorting women's issues, and even engaging in blatant misogynist stereotypes. Figures such as Brenda Potemkin, Libby Herz, Lucy Nelson, Mary Jane Reed (aka "The Monkey"), and Maureen Tarnopol were criticized as unflattering representations that served merely as passive and vapid backdrops to the more complicated, albeit neurotic, male protagonists. And with works such as The Professor of Desire (1977) and The Great American Novel (1973)—the latter being called by Janis P. Stout outright misogynistic—Roth was not seen as the most sensitive of authors. Read as either Jewish American princesses, unsympathetic actants, or sexual objects of desire, his women characters helped to contribute to what had become, even as late as the early 1990s, Roth's reputation as a writer of "men's novels."

However, such an unequivocal reading of this fiction does not do it justice. As Marshall Bruce Gentry has pointed out, Roth's representation of women, and of gender roles in a broader sense, are quite complicated and should not be discounted as merely "anti-woman" or "male-centered." In fact, Gentry's perspective was timely, arriving at what can be seen now as a turning point in Roth's career, or at least a turning point in his critical reception. Beginning in the early 1990s, accusations of narrative misogyny and insensitivity became increasingly infrequent, and the "bad boy" persona—thanks, in large part, to the enduring legacy of Portnoy's Complaint (1969)—gave way to a more seasoned reputation. As his American Trilogy (1997-2000) and The Plot Against America (2004) garnered literary prizes, critical kudos, and an increased readership, not to mention his inclusion into the Library of America pantheon, Roth's status as one of America's leading novelists and social critics overshadowed the earlier assessment of his gender-related shortcomings.

These more recent appraisals of Roth's literary contributions have had a mixed effect. On the one hand, they have served as a much-needed corrective to the kind of shortsighted readings that labeled him as unfriendly to women. On the other hand, his more recent reputation as our greatest living American novelist may have inadvertently stifled what could be called a sorely neglected—although potentially politicized—area in Roth criticism: a serious assessment of the novelist's handling of female characters and gender relations. While the scholarship of Marshall Bruce Gentry and Debra Shostak touches upon these issues, this is nonetheless an area of inquiry that calls for further attention. Indeed, realizing the rich potential of this topic, the Philip Roth Society is sponsoring a four-paper panel at the 2010 American Literature Association Conference titled "Roth and Women."

Four of the five essays in this issue of Philip Roth Studies directly address this critical gap and provide new perspectives on Roth's representation of women as well as the dynamics of gender identification. In her contribution, Sarah Bylund discusses the figure of Merry Levov in American Pastoral, in particular her relationship with food and how she uses it both to define herself against middle-class conventions as well as to free herself—even to self-destructive lengths—from the subjugation of the body. Using Friedrich Nietzsche's theory of ressentiment, Nicole Peeler challenges the (formerly) popular critique of Roth as misogynist, especially when applied to the characterization of Lucy Nelson in When She Was Good. Instead, Peeler argues for the ideological relevance of Roth's second novel and reveals how the author uses his female protagonist to question the foundations, as well as map out the formations, of contemporary morality.

Although, like Bylund, Clare Sigrist-Sutton explores the uses of Merry in American Pastoral, her focus is quite different. She discusses Merry as an example of creative misremembering, that is, how the radical nonviolent protests of the 1960s are reconfigured, and politically neutralized, when personalized through a single adolescent bomber. Alex Hobbs also considers the significance of gender roles in American Pastoral, but instead of looking at Merry, he turns his attention to the novel's narrative focus. Using the critical writings of Jean Baudrillard and Judith Butler, Hobbs discusses the process through which Swede Levov defines, and how others impose upon him, his masculine identity. The final essay in this issue, while not overtly concerned with issues of gender relations, nonetheless centers on strong patriarchal figures. In his contribution, Martin Jacob uses the political theory of Kenneth Burke to read The Plot Against America alongside Jack London's The Iron Heel (1908) and Sinclair Lewis's It Can't Happen Here (1935), revealing how each novel portrays the manipulative powers of political rhetoric.

While the essays in this issue of Philip Roth Studies demonstrate the vibrancy of the current criticism, allow me to turn briefly to what I see as the promise of future Roth studies. On page 116 of this issue you will find a special call for papers focusing on those texts that seem to generate little scholarly interest, at least recently. Specifically, we are interested in submissions that concentrate on Roth's earlier fiction and/or those works that have been largely neglected in the criticism, e.g., Letting Go, When She Was Good, Our Gang, My Life as a Man, The Professor of Desire, The Prague Orgy, The Facts, and Deception. We would also like to encourage individuals to submit note-length essays, between 1,000-2,500 words, that are more limited in scope. We feel that short, targeted analyses would be of particular use, not only to scholars in the field, but also to instructors who regularly teach Roth's fiction and rely on close readings to generate class discussions.

Finally, a few words on the direction of this journal in matters of style. Beginning with this issue, Philip Roth Studies will be published under a new house style. We will still closely follow the recommendations of the MLA Style Manual and Guide to Scholarly Publishing, 3^rd edition, but in addition to this we will also incorporate a few new changes particular to this journal, some of which concern punctuation, citations, and abbreviations. You will find these guidelines in the back of the current issue, along with a checklist for potential contributors.