Actual Rating: 3.5 Stars
A ghost story in the tradition of classic British satirists such as Saki, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Oscar Wilde and Elizabeth Gaskell. A horror story for post-war British society, a very English counterpart to Stephen King. Shaken and stirred with Amis' signature style of wicked sophistication and, unexpectedly, a pinch of Graham-Greene-like inquiry into morality and mortality. The resulting cocktail, as you can imagine already, should be an irresistible one.
Well, almost. "The Green Man" has all its ingredients in place, is well-written, reasonably witty and surprisingly tender and profound in places. But it does not quite challenge the norm of ghost stories the same way as the above-mentioned writers did so skilfully with their respective stories and novels and it is not quite sure, uncharacteristic of a writer like Amis who was known for tackling different genres in his own style without a hiccup, of what to do with its English ghost story and folklore roots. It tries to straddle both kitchen-sink satire, as already evident in the British New Wave films and rock and roll music of the same decade, and the audacious surrealism of a ghost story that features the supernatural but while it achieves the former quite astutely, the latter leaves a lot to be desired.
Still, as a good story should be, "The Green Man" begins with promise. We are introduced to the narrator and protagonist of the story, Maurice Allington, a fifty-something owner of the eponymous coaching inn who is fastidious in entertaining his guests, utterly reckless about his vices - especially his drinking and womanizing - and quite callously ignorant of his family of sorts - a second wife, a teenage daughter addicted to television and pop and an aging, nearly wizened father who is also aware of his son's many flaws and foibles.
The novel is neatly set over a course of five days, the chapters indicating each episode of the ghost story with Amis' cut-and-dried prose and cutting wit and we are tugged into Allington's mounting paranoia and predicament as he starts seeing, or starts thinking that he is seeing, the reincarnation of the resident ghost of the inn. Dr. Thomas Underhill was a devious savant back from the Jacobean Era who was alleged to have murdered his wife and a farmer in the compound of the inn but in the end of the 1960s, a decade marked already with post-modern thinking, he is nothing less in the beginning than just a story, a rumour, a legend without any evidence or proof. Until, that is, Allington himself not only stumbles upon the spectre haunting the dining room but also witnesses strange, absurd and even devastating phenomena, all that point to the ghost' prodigal return in the present era.
Right from before, we are aware of one of the winning strengths of the novel - the presence of an unreliable narrator. Allington is ostensibly one of Amis' most enduring characters, a flawed, aging and possibly even weather-beaten man who prides himself quite assertively for his penchant for his pleasures of the flesh and his erudite tastes. Beneath this wry exterior, however, he tries desperately to hide a glaring failure of a man, still haunted by his first wife's death and the failure of his first marriage and also plagued and wracked by ailments of the mind and body. Allington's despair and pathos, brimming beneath his urgent desire for drink and lust, are voiced eloquently in Amis' prose which blends its sharp functionality with a honesty that feels both disarming and amusing. If the novel does sustain our interest till the last page, it is primarily because of Allington's conundrums that feel not only believable but also resonant. At one point, driven to speculate on the very nature of the possibility of ghosts and reincarnation after death, he is even forced to confront his own mortality and question if God, whom he never believes in till the sobering end, would at least promise him an afterlife.
This leads to the finest segment in the novel - a startling scene in which a young man, erudite, self-assured, shows up to have a bit of a talk over a glass of Scotch. It is superbly written, this little conversation, in which the by-now beleaguered Allington tries and fails to seek the answers to his own inner doubts and questions and is, unexpectedly, given a hint - a hint that would lead him to "believe" against all odds and be convinced of the inevitability of the same.
One wishes, though, that the rest of this novel would have the same pitch-perfect effectiveness, a clarity of thought, idea and action that conveys just what has to be conveyed without any confusion or ambiguity. The rest of the novel, while still written with enough pointed humour and a subtly satirical vein, falters beyond repair especially as it approaches the end. Just when I was expecting Amis to tie up all the loose threads and build an audaciously shocking climax where the eerie scares that are delivered so far from time time come together for a truly terrifying experience, all we get are a couple of scenes of orgies that, while hinted throughout the build-up, feel strangely anti-climactic. Dr. Underhill himself is only initially an intriguing character of whom we are only given sinister glimpses and of whom we hear the most satanic and horrifying things that make our flesh crawl alone but Amis gives him not even half a dozen lines worth saying or even a proper page to do something of his own in the end. And what's the good, then, of a ghost story where the ghost himself is robbed of all his danger and personality?
It feels a little unfair, however, to talk so harshly of this novel because "The Green Man", for me at least, was a mildly entertaining read that is still much better written and put together than most present-days novels and stories that one reads these days. Amis writes with a crisp yet elegant style for most part and also thickens his prose with descriptions, both tantalizing and terrifying, in equal measure and there is enough of his saucy sex and drinking served both with style and hilarity to enjoy for a more indulgent reader who merely wants a good time. But sometimes, even these hallmark ingredients of his style interrupt with the flow of the narrative and, towards the end, end up overshadowing the element of horror and suspense that the story builds up so skilfully alongside its sharply satirical humour. I still maintain that "Lucky Jim" was Amis' finest hour as a novelist and while "The Anti-Death League", while also imperfect, compensated with its ungainly ambition and its glimmerings of tender romance and perfectly timed humour, this novel, which started off superbly and went on quite smoothly before disappointing me in its final act, is far from that mark.