That I’m glad Doris Lessing got the Nobel, as opposed to Philip Roth. I can’t get into Roth’s fiction no matter how hard I try.
*This is the part wherein some smart-ass shows up and tells me that the entire reason why I don’t get into Roth has to do with my lack of a Y chromosome. The smart-ass either manages to evade the question of males who cannot get into Roth (or, at the very least, later Roth), or else tells me that the “castrated” men of the English-speaking world and beyond could not possibly give a real opinion of Roth’s genius in the presence of ladies. Whatever. Maybe one day I’ll get into Roth – but it won’t be because I would have gotten over a bit of “women’s trouble” in that regard.*
Having said all that, I can’t get into Doris Lessing either. I have, however, more of a chance with her (hm, is it just me, or am I beginning to sound obscene?). It’s those first few lines of hers – they, like dough on cheap pans, seem to stick.