Despite delivering a cavalcade of superb fictional novels (Money, The Information, London Fields) the great Martin Amis has never won the Booker prize. His latest offering, Lionel Asbo, will probably not appeal to this year’s judging panel either. This doesn’t make it a bad book.
A constant criticism of Amis is that he can’t write good stories. Jealously, critics barb that stylistic writing and fancy metaphors can’t hide weak plots. Maybe, they ask for too much. When every paragraph is peppered with a variegation of exotic gems, the storyline does sometimes need to take a breather.
The reviews I’ve read so far haven’t been scathingly bad. “This book is dated” seems to be the only major complaint. Apparently, it’s against the grain to write satires about chavs, celebrities and lotto louts as it has been done to death. Recent legislation to replace ASBO’s on the eve of publication helped fuel the protestors argument.
The standing order disapproval of his works won’t inconvenience Martin an iota. (Though I’m sure he’d spew venomous scorn on the literary merits of my last sentence) Mr. Amis would have enjoyed writing this book.
Lionel Asbo is sad, funny, satirical and beautifully crafted.
* * * * *
Lionel leaves his dogs in the care of his nephew and his family from time to time. The dogs grow to like the tenderness of the nephew in contrast to the roughness they receive at the hands of their owner. Only when Lionel is around do the dogs revert to their savagery.
(Excerpt)
The dogs and the Pepperdines were soon very fond of one another. This was a development that Lionel would be certain to deplore: the Pepperdines knew it- and so, uncannily, did the dogs. All four of them dissembled: they behaved with the polite reserve of experienced adulterers till the moment Lionel stamped off down the passage. As the front door slammed shut, Jak or Jek would be lying on his back with forepaws cocked and tail awhirl, or sprinting five feet in the air…
Boadicea's Chariot 
Thanks for flagging this, TR. Seems like it would be entertaining. I never worry about Booker prizes and such.
‘Apparently, it’s against the grain to write satires about chavs, celebrities and lotto louts as it has been done to death. ‘
Has it?
Not so I’ve noticed. Well at least not here!
I tend to avoid the Booker prize books these days, all bloody ethnic or totally boring. Mostly dripping PC itis.
Wolf Hall was sclerotic, gave up about 3/4 way through. Painfully obvious she was dragging it out for a sequel.
Sounds like this one might be amusing and worth a go.
If it doesn’t amuse these days it doesn’t get read, too old for self improvement and breast beating.
Hear! Hear! Christina! As far as I’m concerned, most things that are ‘acclaimed’ by the critics aren’t worth reading or viewing.
The ones I can’t take are the ‘plucky’ tales of various ‘disadvantaged’ woggo characters succeeding against ALL adversity in some third world rathole.
They ought to make them fold out into a sick bag!
Hello ladies, thanks for your views. I do hope you go on to read the book. Bear in mind, it is written from a male perspective and you know what our mindset is like. Just enjoy the perfect prose.
I recall reading MA’s opinion on twice-Booker winner, J.M.Coetzee. Amis dismissed Coetzee’s poor writing skills by citing examples from the prizewinner’s ouevre.
“He watched me like a hawk.”
“She had a laugh that could wake the dead.”
This kind of dull stuff is unacceptable in Martin’s eyes. I’m with him on this one. Call in the Cliche Police.
If you like police/court procedural crime novels, Michael Connelly remains the man to read. Plots, characterisation and pace all score high marks IMHO.
Went up to the community garden to check the newly planted leeks hadn’t floated away in the latest monsoon and nipped into the library to order the Amis book. Needless to say there wasn’t a copy yet in the county but it is on order.
Whilst there, picking a few movies, I saw a thriller by James Patterson called ‘Private Games’.
Fell about laughing with undue mirth thinking of the Zil lanes above, on the dust jacket were the entrancing words-
“This could be the last summer games ever”
Said to spousal unit as one does, pointing to the above
“Fuck me, we can’t get that lucky!
Fortunately they do not have a policy of silence it being a ‘community’ library, (read screaming brats) for once it was the adults making the noise. Us.
Let you know if the novel is any good.
Janus, Michael Connelly is indeed an excellent crime writer. I am currently rereading “The Nine Tailors” by Dorothy L Sayers, which has all the bell-ringing lore as well as a well thought-out storyline.