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I've read Portnoy's one and a half times and on both occasions I found the whole experience quite nauseating. It's not that I'm a prude and I generally love Jewish humour, but I couldn't escape from thinking that Roth was overdoing the supposed shock factor in his day.
I could certainly relate to his teenage fantasies, but in the end I gave up on the second attempt because the entire read was just a drag of forced sniggers and I felt grubby during the mercifully short reading.
I think I'll put the book into a jumble sale and be rid of it.