The American writer in the middle of the twentieth century has his hands full in trying to understand, and then describe, and then make credible much of American reality. It stupefies, it sickens, it infuriates, and finally it is even a kind of embarrassment to one’s own meager imagination. The actuality is continually outdoing our talents.

Roth is arguing that mid‑century American life—its politics, mass culture, contradictions, and sheer strangeness—poses a special problem for fiction. The writer’s task is not only to observe and understand events but to render them believable within the conventions of narrative art. When reality becomes more grotesque, volatile, or absurd than what a novelist might plausibly invent, the imagination can feel “meager” by comparison, and the craft of making a story credible becomes harder. The remark also hints at a moral and aesthetic frustration: the writer is overwhelmed by a society whose “actuality” repeatedly exceeds the explanatory power of art.