Warn me off if you must, because I’m about to start my first Martin Amis book, House of Meetings. Over the years I’ve read reviews of Amis’s books, read articles about Amis himself, but never once picked up one of his books? Hmmmm…. The reviews on the back are encouraging, but I tend to translate such reviews into what they’re trying hard NOT to say: “Amis’s most accessible fiction” must really mean, “he’s brilliant, but no one can understand what the hell he’s talking about”; “reminds us of Dostoyevsky” is code for “this is one dark and painful damned story”; and “the book gnaws at one’s memory” might surely mean that “the book will wretch your brain, but give it a try and see if you survive it.”
What the heck. Here goes nothin’. All the books on my shelves are boring me to tears of late, so I’ll jump into this one and see what happens. Stay tuned.