While I generally enjoyed the book, the problem with Everyman by Philip Roth is that it is a little inaccurately sold. The book is a collection of memories of a single man (supposedly an ordinary man) that starts with his funeral.
The problem is this: the main character isn’t ordinary. His father is a well-off jewelry merchant, his brother is a multi-millionaire, he has a successful advertising career, he manages to sell some of his paintings and in the middle of his life he hooks up with (and eventually marries) a gorgeous Danish model (oh, plus he is supposedly really good looking).
As I wrote, I did like this book, but it does have one thing in common with For One More Day by Mitch Albom (my thoughts on For One More Day are here). Basically, if you go out of town (and are doing something that you shouldn’t be doing), your Mom dies of a stroke (or something) while you are gone.
Of course, the main theme, the “everyman” theme, is the angst associated with internalizing mortality. Despite being in good shape (doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t gain weight) the main character has his share of health problems.
He is exposed early to death and thinks (right before he has a burst appendix):
Terrifying encounters with the end? I’m thirty-four! Worry about oblivion, he told himself, when you’re seventy-five! The remote future will be time enough to anguish over the ultimate catastrophe! (32)
I think that is pretty good advice (course, poor Mr. Everyman doesn’t actually make it to 75).
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