Martin Amis

I'm having another go at London Fields. If you read it with a jaundiced eye knowing it's trying to be not half clever it's actually very good. 

He's one of those novelists with one great book (Money) and the rest of his output is all a bit meh.

Which might in fact be the case for all novelists.

I listened to a chunk of Money as an audio book on two long drives recently. It does not work well as an audio book. I remember liking it 20odd years ago when I read it but it wasn't anything like as funny as I remember it being.  

My brother was an avid Amis reader. Got all the first editions when they came out. I managed the Rachel Papers and Money but I kind of got stuck on this one. Don't give away the ending. 

When he died recently I read Time's Arrow (on someone's recommendation) about the Holocaust doctor's life where time goes backwards from his death to his birth. 

I wasn't expecting much having struggled with Money and London Fields. But it was the most moving and brilliant pieces of writing. And I now recommend it to all my m8s asking for a recommendation. 

The Second plane, a series of essays about 11 September and its aftermath is also excellently pugnacious and incisive, you can see the parallels between him and Christopher Hitchens.

I'd be interested in any other recommendations - Dead Babies or Other People perhaps?  

He does attract a certain type of review. This is from Tibor Fischer

Yellow Dog isn't bad as in not very good or slightly disappointing. It's not-knowing-where-to-look bad. I was reading my copy on the Tube and I was terrified someone would look over my shoulder (not only because of the embargo, but because someone might think I was enjoying what was on the page). It's like your favourite uncle being caught in a school playground, masturbating.

And Marty’s considered response:

In his case I think it’s envy. As far as my other critics are concerned, the envy seems to have corroded down to hatred. They don’t like a prose style that reminds them how thick they are every couple of sentences, and how numb. 

Tibor Fischer’s first three novels are great and owe more than a little to MA, obvs. The Thought Gang in particular I remember as inspired as is Collector Collector in places. Heaving with ideas. He sank without trace. That review of Yellow Dog is notorious and MA was magnanimous in the circs.