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47 pages 1 hour read

Philip Roth

American Pastoral

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1997

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Part 1, Chapters 1-3Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Part 1: “Paradise Remembered”

Part 1, Chapter 1 Summary

In Newark, New Jersey, during the “war years,” Seymour “the Swede” Levov is the hero of his community, a gifted athlete onto whom the neighborhood’s Jewish boys project all their aspirations. The novel’s narrator—Nathan Zuckerman—befriends the Swede’s younger brother, Jerry. Playing ping pong at the Levovs’ house, he catches glimpses of the Swede’s inner sanctum. There, he discovers a series of young adult baseball novels in which the naïve and noble protagonist suffers the capricious cruelties of life.

The Swede’s grandfather, an immigrant from the (unidentified) “old country,” finds work in a tannery, and his father follows, eventually starting his own business manufacturing ladies’ gloves, becoming very wealthy in the process. After graduation, the Swede enlists in the Marines, but the bombing of Hiroshima ends the war before he sees any action. After a stint as a drill instructor at Parris Island (a Marine boot camp), the Swede enrolls in college, becoming a star for the baseball team. He turns down an offer to play pro, choosing instead to work for his father. He marries Dawn Dwyer, a former Miss New Jersey whose non-Jewish identity serves as a further marker of the Swede’s successful assimilation: “He’d done it” (15). Years later, Zuckerman, now a well-known author, encounters the Swede and his son at a Mets game. He’s just as starstruck as when he was a kid. Years after that meeting (1995), Zuckerman receives a letter from the Swede asking him to write a memorial for his father. He accepts, still clinging to his childhood hero worship but also curious to probe the Swede for emotional scars (if any).

They meet for dinner, and Zuckerman finds a 70-year-old man “radiant with [blandness].” He talks only about his family, so relentlessly ordinary a conversation that Zuckerman wonders what happened to the old Swede. As the president of his father’s manufacturing business, he bemoans the decline of his beloved Newark, now the “car-theft capital of the world” and the reason he’s moved his business offshore (24).

The Swede mentions his prostate surgery, and Zuckerman notes he’s had “friends”—including himself—who’ve gone through the same ordeal. He deduces that the Swede has reached out to him because he’s had to confront mortality (and weakness) for the first time in his life. Zuckerman asks about the Swede’s younger brother, Jerry, and learns that he is now a heart surgeon and has been married four times. As he continues to probe the Swede for “substrata,” any depth beyond the superficial, he concludes, “There’s nothing here but what you’re looking at” (39), a conclusion that he will soon realize is utterly wrong.

Part 1, Chapter 2 Summary

Zuckerman attends his 45th high school reunion. Composing notes after the fact for a speech he never delivers, he ruminates on post-war America—an “industrious” place that encourages its youth to take advantage of all the opportunities that come with growing up in the wealthiest and most powerful nation in the world. He laments the disappearing intimacy of America’s urban neighborhoods, where communities are so tight knit that everyone knows everyone, down to the most minute detail. For Zuckerman, the reunion is a moment frozen in time where the past and present converge and mortality can be denied, temporarily. There, he meets up with Mendy Gurlik (they commiserate over dead classmates and their own infirmities) as well as Ira Posner, who recalls being inspired by Zuckerman’s father (Zuckerman remembers none of it). Finally, as the reunion is winding down, Zuckerman notices the presence of Jerry Levov.

Part 1, Chapter 3 Summary

Zuckerman and Jerry catch up, comparing who they were to who they have become (Zuckerman finds Jerry overly sure of himself). When Zuckerman mentions his dinner with the Swede, Jerry tells him he’s died of cancer. He memorializes his brother as “noble” behind the façade of conventionality. He claims that his brother was “raked over” by unforgiveable family members—his father, his wives, and especially his daughter, Meredith (Merry), who bombed a post office during the Vietnam War. The bombing shattered the Swede’s perfect, unquestioned existence. Twenty-five years later, overwhelmed with grief, he confided to Jerry that Merry was dead. Unable to forgive Merry for destroying his brother’s life, Jerry sees her death as something to celebrate.

Zuckerman spends several months writing the Swede’s story but decides not to send it to Jerry, who, he’s convinced, will find the characters “[a]bsolutely off.” Despite his meticulous research, Zuckerman concludes that Jerry would probably be right. No one person’s perception of another can ever be entirely accurate.

He understands that the Swede had the misfortune of getting exactly what he wanted—to be the hero—with all the burden that entails. He realizes in retrospect that his assessment of the Swede as bland and shallow was a naive misjudgment; below the surface lay terrible pain, which he buried for the sake of his family. He reflects on his own post-war generation, driven to make good on the sacrifices of their immigrant parents, viewing upward mobility as a multi-generational project. With a single act of violence, he thinks, Merry destroyed her family’s generational momentum. The Swede, whose life until that moment had been picture-perfect, was ill-equipped to deal with the radical imperfections that befell him.

Zuckerman’s story of the Swede’s life begins when Merry is 11. She stutters, and despite the Swede’s best efforts to treat it without judgment (unlike his wife, Dawn), he inadvertently mocks her one day. Then, as if in apology, he kisses her too amorously, a moment of “intimacy too enjoyable to swear off and yet not in any way to be taken seriously” (91). Zuckerman imagines that the Swede, in his search for meaning behind Merry’s betrayal, might latch on to this moment—and his subsequent emotional distance—as his grand transgression, punishable henceforth by a life of pain.

When Merry is young and in the throes of her worst stuttering, he takes her to a psychologist who suggests it’s a “choice,” a ploy to get attention. In the end, nothing—not the psychologist, speech therapist, or her parents—helps. At 16, Merry grows overweight and angry, focusing her rage on Lyndon Johnson and the Vietnam War. She renounces her family’s bourgeois lifestyle and resolves not to let the stutter become the focus of her life. Her rebelliousness alienates her mother in particular, but the Swede argues that, as parents, they must continue to be firm and keep communication open. She begins associating with activists in New York. Fearing these associations, the Swede suggests she organize protests in her own town of Rimrock. After seemingly endless fights, she takes his advice but then proceeds to blow up the post office.

Part 1, Chapters 1-3 Analysis

In American Pastoral, Roth’s literary alter ego, Nathan Zuckerman, examines the life of his former classmate, Seymour “the Swede” Levov. Levov, a gifted athlete and the pride of his Jewish community—in no small part because he is a living testament that a Jewish boy can be every bit as all-American as anyonehas taken over his father’s glove-making company and become a successful businessman. With a beautiful wife and a beautiful home in the wealthy enclave of Rimrock, New Jersey, the Swede seems to have been blessed by the gods. As Zuckerman discovers more about the Swede after his death, however, he realizes that appearances are deceiving and that the Swede’s blessed life was marked by well-concealed tragedy—most notably, the crimes of his daughter, Merry. For Zuckerman, the Swede’s life becomes a case study through which he considers the role of chance in life and the myths people rely on to make meaning out of randomness.

In considering how the Swede has constructed his life and identity, Zuckerman is necessarily also asking questions about The True Meaning of “American.” As a youth, the Swede is a hero to his predominantly Jewish community, famous not only for his athletic prowess but also for his “anomalous face,” the source of his nickname: “Of the few fair-complexioned Jewish students in our preponderantly Jewish public high school, none possessed anything remotely like the steep-jawed, insentient Viking mask of this blue-eyed blond born into our tribe as Seymour Irving Levov” (3). Levov’s face is an emblem of assimilation: a mask of whiteness behind which ethnic specificity disappears along with emotion, irony, and humor. His skill on the baseball field (and football field and basketball court) inspires intense love because it offers his community the promise of easy integration into the American mainstream:

[T]hrough the Swede, the neighborhood entered into a fantasy about itself and about the world, the fantasy of sports fans everywhere: almost like Gentiles (as they imagined Gentiles), our families could forget the way things actually work and make an athletic performance the repository of all their hopes (2).

Much like the Black community in Maya Angelou’s “Champion of the World,” who saddle their hopes and dreams on the shoulders of boxer Joe Louis, the Weequahic Jewish community puts their hopes in the Swede. This collective investment of hope imposes an enormous psychic burden on him—one that, in Zuckerman’s view, remains with him all his life: He represents his whole community’s chance to become American, and he must therefore become and remain as blandly American as possible. It is out of communal responsibility that he forgoes a promising baseball career to take over the family business. He does so without complaint, bearing his burdens silently. To do any less would be an abrogation of his duty and a betrayal of the self-image he has carefully cultivated: a man just as willing to shoulder the responsibility of life as the obligation of a team, a school, or a town. In Zuckerman’s view, this need to appear imperturbable and strong prevents him from adequately acknowledging or responding to the crisis in his daughter’s life; he cannot perfectly mesh into the status quo while acknowledging the pain such status quo causes his daughter.

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