{"id":122730207,"date":"2023-06-07T12:30:20","date_gmt":"2023-06-07T12:30:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.lazyandentitled.org\/?p=122730207"},"modified":"2023-06-07T12:30:20","modified_gmt":"2023-06-07T12:30:20","slug":"rip-martin-amis-my-literary-nemesis","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.lazyandentitled.org\/?p=122730207","title":{"rendered":"RIP Martin Amis, My Literary Nemesis"},"content":{"rendered":"

“There’s only one rule I know of, babies\u2014God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” – Kurt Vonnegut, ‘God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater’<\/h2>

Martin Amis, titan of postmodern British literature, is dead. This actually happened a while ago\u2014May 20th to be exact\u2014but I wanted to run the interview with Abe Epperson<\/a> that week. Go give money to Abe and Michael Swaim\u2019s film, <\/a>Papa Bear<\/a><\/em>, a coming-of-age comedy about the time Michael\u2019s dad came out as a gay furry. It sounds amazing, full of empathy and heart, plus you already know those dudes are funny<\/a>. Man, I can\u2019t wait for this film. <\/p>

Anyway, Martin Amis died. I debated talking about this because I have nothing nice to say about Martin Amis, though I\u2019ll try not to be too mean. I read London Fields<\/em> during a summer creative writing program I took at the University of Manchester back in undergrad. Amis was teaching there at the time, though not us summer study abroaders. He did deign to have an evening lecture event one time, which I don\u2019t super remember, but that\u2019s not his fault, really. <\/p>

\"No<\/figure>

Afterwards, I wanted to at least say hi\u2014how does an undergrad not<\/em> say hi to a Literary Titan, especially an undergrad in the early stages of Salman Rushdie fandom?\u2014and wanted to say I was enjoying the program. I was not <\/em>enjoying London Fields<\/em>, finding it contemptuous of its characters, self-satisfied with its obvious satire, and overwrought. But who cares what I think? Old-ass Marty was outside, smoking a cigarette with a couple of my classmates\u2014which was a thing I didn\u2019t mind doing back then, too. He was less than friendly and almost standoffish, but whatever. Honestly who cares. Then <\/em>he said the thing that crystalized my feelings about Martin Amis. A classmate asked something to the effect of \u201cwhy don\u2019t you write more women characters?\u201d His response:<\/p>

\u201cWell, women don\u2019t really do much, do they? It\u2019s men who go out and do stuff, do interesting things.\u201d<\/p>

Look, I\u2019m really not trying to assassinate a dead man\u2019s character. The sheer dismissiveness, though. The bone-deep lack of curiosity. The way that answer fit with the question I <\/em>was having, which was: \u201cis the writer of London Fields<\/em> anything like the smug, dickish third-person omniscient narrator of London Fields<\/em>?\u201d <\/p>

\"No<\/figure>

My dear friend Chloe N. Clark talks about Billy Collins as her writing nemesis (for good reason, Billy Collins sucks). Being a peace-loving dude (read: painfully shy and non-confrontational), I didn\u2019t think I had a nemesis. But what other word describes my feeling toward Martin Amis? Poor dead bastard. <\/p>

\"No<\/figure>

I think there\u2019s something healthy to having a literary nemesis. There are ideologies and Types Of Guys we define ourselves against. In small doses, that\u2019s fine. Non-consuming doses. Not even talking ideologies like \u201cNazis\u201d or anything. Just people who make you go, \u201cmy project is not<\/em> that.\u201d It\u2019s important for the literary community to be a place where we lift each other up and support each other, but having a passionate reaction against<\/em> a piece of art reminds you that you are unique, you are capable of thinking for yourself, and you have things you care about. <\/p>

\"No<\/figure>

We should not speak ill of the dead\u2014my parents and my former pastor and his wife read this blog\u2014so no more talking about Amis. Let me instead say what I hope whenever you read my writing: I hope my writing reads like it was written joyously, curiously, and with heart. A heart clogged with cheeseburgers, sure, but heart. I hope my writing reads like I love my characters, even when they\u2019re touch-the-fire-to-see-if-it\u2019s-hot morons. The New Yorker<\/em>, which has moments of brilliance every once in a while, once wrote that \u201cRaymond Chandler wrote like pain hurt and life mattered,\u201d and that seems like an aspirational eulogy. Also, you know, my books are gonna have monsters and ghosts, too, so y\u2019know, hope you get a little spooked sometimes, too. <\/p>

Also let me say what I hope if you ever meet me: that you think I was a nice guy and a cool hang, someone who is generous, and kind, or at least \u201cpretty weird, but in the way I thought he was going to be?\u201d <\/p>

<\/figure>

(Funny side note: in the last article of the five-part <\/a>Calvin and Hobbes<\/a><\/em> series I did for <\/a>Cracked<\/a><\/em>, I said something about wanting to honor Bill Watterson\u2019s work and make sure the audience felt they could get the same joy out of Calvin and Hobbes<\/em> as I did. I don\u2019t remember the exact wording, but some asshole DMed me on Twitter turning my words around, \u201cyou dishonored Bill Watterson and took away the joy from C&H<\/em>\u201d or some shit like that. It was the funniest hate mail I\u2019ve ever gotten. Thanks for hate-reading all five articles, my guy. Anyway, now I\u2019m certain<\/em> that the above paragraphs will be used against me in a future book review.)<\/p>

RIP Martin Amis. Look, Manchester\u2019s a wonderful city. The Chicago of The U.K.<\/p>

\n