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Posts Tagged: martin amis

Lionel Asbo

“Lionel Asbo: State of England,” by Martin Amis

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Martin Amis’s latest novel Lionel Asbo is a shallow book that sparkles with moments of profundity. The farcical content is evident from the cover of its British edition where a full-length portrait of the title character shows a muscular man in his twenties in track pant and white t-shirt, with a big bald head, bad teeth, aggressive eyes, and a pitbull on either side.

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The Sunday Rumpus Book Blog Roundup

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My relationship with the book blogs has hit a snag. Today, we got in a throw-down fight, and I came pretty close to breaking some china.

It’s just that the blogs whine and worry and complain a lot, and they always seem to want to cheat on me with famous writers, like Martin Amis or David Foster Wallace or Marquis de Sade, and then it rubs off on me, and I end up whining and worrying and complaining more than they do, and then I stop liking myself.

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“Writers die twice”

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“Writing remains a very interesting job, but destiny, or “fat Fate”, as Humbert Humbert calls it, has arranged a very interesting retribution. Writers lead a double life. And they die doubly, too. This is modern literature’s dirty little secret. Writers die twice: once when the body dies, and once when the talent dies.”

Martin Amis at The Guardian on Nabokov and “the tortuous questions posed by genius in decline”

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The Rumpus Sunday Book Blog Roundup

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At HTMLGIANT, brilliant craft advice from a cartoon! “If you’re not popular, and you write a good poem, nobody gives a shit.”

The Guardian goes off on Martin Amis, complaining of “the continued endurance of a surprising tolerance for misogyny from vaunted men of letters who came of age as writers in an era when the loathing of women for being women – rather than for being crap writers, or unkind people, or whatever – was still legitimate.” Phew.

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The Rumpus Book Blog Roundup

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It is spring, and the book blogs are horny! Will they be the type to lock themselves in a room with a suitcase full of porn? Or will they find someone who looks lonely and hit on them, not leaving the poor person alone until they agree to make out? 

Below the fold, find out what happens when the book blogs get sexy, plus The Rumpus in The New Yorker‘s Book Bench, how book blogs come in waves (No, not like that.

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