What the hell happened to Martin Amis?
Years ago now, Amis first entertained me with his hilarious novel Money, a supercharged satire on 1980's greed. Then he intrigued me with his amnesiac mystery story Other People (I was only fifteen at the time), and dazzled me with the linguistic audacity of his time reversal story, Time's Arrow.
Admittedly, he then aggravated me with the narrative heavy-handedness of London Fields, and all but bored me to atrophy with its pointless redux, The Information. It seemed as though the celebrity had blunted his focus.
And then came 9/11 and the 'War on Terror'.
There couldn't have been a writer in the world who wasn't haunted and influenced by what happened that morning as the hijacked planes crashed into the twin towers of the World Trade Centre. But as the shock cleared, most of them recognized what they saw as an audacious act of terrorism committed by a pitifully under-resourced rag-bag of extremists on an administration asleep at the wheel.
Amis, however, saw an End of Days battle between East and West.
Though Amis quite rightly derides George Bush and his neo-Con cronies in some of the articles in this collection of journalistic pieces, reviews, and two short stories, it's worth pointing out that he seemed to see exactly the same thing the neo-Con nimconpoops wanted everyone to see.
In the central, infuriating article here, titled 'Terror and Boredom: The Dependent Mind', Amis says quite clearly and more than once: 'Naturally we respect Islam. But we do not respect Islamism'. Yet read this book and the dubious use of the impersonal pronoun in that statement comes across as revealing more than it should.
In fact, if you read this book I am sure that you will conclude, as I have, that Amis does not in the least respect Islam. He hates it. He fears it. To him, in the wake of 9/11 every male Moslem has become a potential terrorist, just as every boyfriend becomes a potential rapist to a paranoid father whose daughter has just come of age.
Seemingly in need of a bogey-man worthy of the name, Amis, just like Bush and Blair, wants to imagine a cataclysmic enemy in order to replace the temporarily supine Russians (yep, that's right, temporarily supine Russians: how did anyone think that a country with that size, natural resources and a nuclear arsenal had really been 'defeated' in the Cold War?).
Amis rues that the title '9/11' has come to denote the tragedy, that it demeans and dishonors the victims, trivializing the horror by reducing it to numerals, yet more than once he refers to the Iraq War as a 'misadventure'- a misadventure, incidentally, where tens of thousands of Iraqis were killed by the US carpet bombing of Baghdad.
Can you, like me, detect something very revealing in that, just like with that editorial 'we' I picked out earlier? It's another clear indication of Amis's belief of a all-encompassing battle between East and West, of a simple narrative featuring a Goodie and a Baddie, where the show-down could go either way.
Of course, what the jihad and the War on Terror really amounts to is the story of an unfortunate generation of arrogant, blithely religious politicians against a handful of hateful and delusional extremists, with a benign cast of billions looking on at both combatants with fear and incredulity.
Amis would disagree with me though, accuse me of 'moral equivalence' and call me a liberal, which is very much a pejorative term in his book. Does he really believe that trying to have empathy and understanding for people who don't see the world as you do is a fatal weakness that will inevitably lead the world to armageddon?
But he's not completely blinded by the impact of the second plane. As I mentioned earlier, he recognizes Bush as the 'dry drunk' he is, isn't fooled by the changing casus belli of the Irag War, although he won't just come out and call it what it was, a convenient target chosen by an administration that felt it had to 'strike back' at someone, anyone.
Likewise, he warns against the merging of religion and politics, rightly abhors the misogyny and persecution of the minority where this has happened in Islamic states. He's long been a vocal atheist, or 'agnostic' as he choses to refer to himself here ('The Voice of the Lonely Crowd'), but all history bares him out on this point.
Amis has a mighty vocabulary, which can be a great asset as a novelist (although he often overdoes it), but as a journalist he just comes across as a show-off. You can't speak from the heart and grab for a thesaurus at the same time.
In the reviews he rarely mentions the thing he is actually supposed to be reviewing (e.g. the film United 93) and in one instance ('Demographics') while reviewing the book America Alone: The End of the World as We Know it he again reveals his state of mind by registering concern at the birthrate in Islamic countries.
Elsewhere he illustrates his points about geopolitics with far too many quotes and phrases from other novelists. Fair enough in a way, he is, after all a novelist himself, it's the lexicon he knows best; but do Updike, Mailer and Naipul etc really know so much about terrorism? Anyone who has read Updike's novel Terrorist would certainly conclude that he didn't for starters.
Ultimately a feeling of contempt and paranoia towards the religion of Islam and not just the extremists - and therefore towards the hundreds of millions of Moslems without any desire for violence or world domination - pervades these pages like a poorly closeted smell.
His disgust tainted what should have been the collections strong points yet managed to be the nadir, the two short stories. Far more than merely unconvincing, they were truly terrible.
But at least he spared us a third short story, one he pulled the plug on yet talked us through in the 'Terror and Boredom' article. Called 'The Unknown Known', it was best left unknown.