The Green Man

In the early 1970s Amis seemed to be looking for a new direction. His initial series of comedies (_Lucky Jim_ and its successors in broadly similar mode) had begun bringing in diminishing returns, at least in terms of critical attention and sales. And later, in the 1980s, Amis found a different kind of form with _The Old Devils_ and his last books. But at more or less the mid-point in his career Amis experimented with a series of genre novels. Of this series _The Alteration_ was science fiction (an alternate-worlds story in which the Reformation never happened), _The Riverside Murders_ is more or less in the English murder mystery tradition (that is, there is more interest in the puzzle than in the US crime novel, but at its best the English whodunnit is also more likely to give us human characters rather than groteques). _The Green Man_ is the last and most successful of the series, and is in the horror genre. As a horror story "The Green Man" offers only mild chills, but its other rewards are substantial. It's a portrait of Maurice Allingham, drinker, womaniser and host of The Green Man, an English hotel with a fine table, excellent wine list, and a couple of picturesque ghosts, though with no recent sightings. Maurice is both cynical and observant, yet he misses much of what is important of what goes on around him. The things he misses include sinister stirrings around him that indicate that the supernatural elements around him have not been so much extinct as dormant, and are now reawakening. More importantly he fails to observe almost everything of importance about those who are closest to him, his long(ish) suffering wife, his lonely, resentful teenage daughter, and his son, who has already moved on from him. Though we are invited to see through Allingham's eyes, we are also given a portrait of Allingham, a man who has gone a long way on charm but is finding that trait not enough, any more, to stave off the consequences of various kinds of misbehaviour. With women he finds that they are still prepared to bed him, but they no longer seem to like him much. With his drinking he finds he can still lie to his doctor, but he cannot deny - at least to himself - the danger signs: shakes, mild strokes, visual and auditory hallucinations. And his teenage daughter still resents his absense from her life; but she is coming close to not minding any more. Some critics have missed the strength and trenchancy of Amis' critique of his male narrators. Amis is often accused of misogyny for portrayals such as the women in "The Green Man", when in fact it is principally the narrator who Amis is mocking, not the women the narrator comments on.This is the book that contains the famous "threesome" scene, in which the two women participants soon lose interest in the male narrator who believes he set up the scene. Maurice tries and fails to attract at least some attention, find a spare limb to involve himself with, and eventually gives up and ge

Amis' writing turns the most wretched characters into sympathetic and comic protagonists. This book is no exception. At its most superficial level, the plot is that of a very silly horror story. The elements of absurdity keep the pace quick, preventing us from consciously dwelling on the book's philosophical undertones. The result is a delightful cross between literary perfection and an episode of Scooby Doo. This book would have made a perfect addition to a time capsule: on a number of levels, it brilliantly reflects the time in which it was written (the late 60's).

I saw a movie of "The Green Man" on A & E a few years back, and it didn't make any damn sense (save for the brilliant casting of Albert Finney as Maurice Allington), so I read the book. Wow! It was a treat.Maurice isn't the sort of man I would like, nor do I suspect he would like me, but somehow he works well as a narrator. The story engages on several levels: you spend much time debating (especially after Allington sees "God") whether we aren't simply privy to the pitiful delusions of a pill and alcohol gulping man on his last legs rather than dealing with the understatedly fiendish Dr. Underhill and his monstrous creation.Who knows, and who cares? Great read.

Not a horror novel in the traditional sense of the term, but instead a rather quiet, brooding examination of the nature of evil and moral choice. Philosophical and at times rather funny, The Green Man should be of especial interest to those readers who normally shy away from the horror genre.

Different people expect different things from works of supernatural fiction - some like plenty of bad-tempered fiends and flying gore a la Clive Barker, while others prefer the more ponderous, "what-if-it really-happened" feel of The X Files or the short stories of M.R. James. Amis' novel offers what is to my mind a much more satisfying kind of scare, one which involves a blurring of the lines between outer and inner malignancies - between our fear of the quiet rustlings and creaks that whisper through the walls of our homes, and that of the faint stirrings of even darker forces within our selves. The protagonist of this novel, Maurice Allington, is in many ways an attractive character - gregarious, witty and restless in the presence of fools - but he is also an abominably selfish and morally slovenly human being whose libidinal fantasies about the women in his life are forever in danger of creeping a little too close to the surface. These features of his character recommend him to the attention of an old inhbitant of the little country inn theat he manages - a philosopher, alchemist, and mystic who, in addition to having been dead for over two-hundred years, is in the position to make Maurice an offer that he may not be able to refuse... _The Green Man_ is full of scary scenes - ghostly arrivals, an excorcism, a confrontation with the dreadful, elemental monster of the title, and a truly unforgettable "interview with God" (the Devil? the Grim Reaper? It's hard to tell with the theologically intractable Amis). The climax of the novel is thoroughly satisfying, and reveals Amis to be something of an optimist about human nature, at least to the extent that he believes we are able to recoil from our most truly horrifying desires and shut the door on them before they break through the forest and tear apart our homes.