The Information

In terms of maturity, "The Information" is more developed than either "Money" or "London Fields." This is not to say that it is necessarily a much better novel. Just like saying "The Last Tycoon" is better than "The Great Gatsby" or "Tender is the Night." It is labored in parts,... and difficult perhaps for non-artists to grasp. A knowledge and background in literary-cultural criticism and book reviewing is helpful. Amis uses terminology and chains of thought which may not be immediately recognizable to some readers. His protagonist's professional (=personal) angst arises from the critical notion that a bestselling author has a responsibility proportionate with her/his influence & status as a public figure. This standard could just well apply to film producers, directors & screenwriters; newspaper and magazine publishers, editors & columnists; tv and radio talk show hosts; politicians; judges; college administrators, etc. F.R. Leavis, one of the influential founders of modern literary criticism, famously said that although we can't (objectively) judge literature, we are capable of judging life and for the practical purposes of discussion, they can be treated synonymously. This standard applies even to the science fiction & science fantasy genre of creative writing. So, the critic has broad license to venture out and comment on a wide array of issues; one who is wise and discerning can mold opinion now and again. My hope is that Amis writes a sequel. Like a modern Don Quixote, Richard Tull is more sympathetic than Richard III (I hope!) and deserves to be expanded upon. What happens to him and 'The Little Magazine' in the new century, assuming Sebby didn't get to him.

Richard Tull knows exactly who his nemesis is: it's his best friend, Gwyn Barry. Richard is a broken man, his middle-aged body ravaged by enthusiastic smoking, relentless drinking, and a variety of minor, but terrifying, maladies, which he chooses to interpret as signs of his impending death. He's a book reviewer by trade, but a failed writer at heart, his recent, intolerable novels never having attained the modest success of his first, incomprehensible one. And, worryingly, he's impotent. By contrast, Gwyn is maddeningly successful, despite his utter lack of talent: his dreadful hippie-utopia epic Amelior is eating the bestseller lists alive, and Gwyn has more interviews and photo shoots and public appearances than he can handle. If that weren't enough, Gwyn also has a blonde, aristocratic bombshell of a wife - Lady Demeter - to whom he publicly, and nauseatingly, professes his extreme devotion. Clearly, Gwyn deserves to die. But Richard would rather make his nemesis suffer. Bringing his mighty, booze-pickled wreck of a brain to bear on the problem, Richard resolves to destroy Gwyn - but slowly. It starts small, with anonymous pranks, but swiftly escalates into the illegal and possibly fatal. By a curious twist of fate, Richard finds himself accompanying Gwyn on the American leg of his publicity tour, ostensibly to write a feature about the great man himself from the perspective of the long-time friend. At the same time, Richard hopes to boost sales of his latest novel, Untitled, reluctantly completed in response to his wife's urgent demands for income. A bloated monstrosity that strikes down anyone foolish enough to try reading it, Untitled is an utter disaster. It appears that things can get no worse for Richard Tull; but as he himself would assure you, that's never the case. If it weren't so damned funny, it would be tragic. Amis writes with self-assured cleverness and wit, every sentence packed with a double entendre or punning metaphor; like a manic, brilliant professor, he expects you to keep up, and doesn't pause so you can scribble down notes. The third-person-limited point of view, exploring Richard's thoughts, hums with the electric tension and savagely self-deprecating wit of Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. There are also moments when a first-person narrator (presumably the author) breaks in, offering insights and tangential observations; at times, these little asides are breathtakingly beautiful, especially when their clarity and directness are juxtaposed with Richard's snide, bitterly ironic grousing. Clearly, Amis adores language, and delights in playing with words; unfortunately, this also gives rise to the book's greatest flaw, a misguided and confusing subplot involving two jive-talking hoodlums known as Crash and 13. Intermediate to advanced Anglophiles will be able to slog through the inverted syntax and colorful street slang, but those not familiar with British English may find themselves at a loss; in any case, the diffi

I truly enjoyed this sad and funny book, which explores the interaction between two old Oxford friends -- Richard Tull, a failed and impotent cult writer, and Gwyn Barry, a best-selling author of mindless utopian trash. Further, Amis does a great job in the last section of the book, when the perspective shifts from Tull's futility to Barry's cruelty. This entire section was a surprise but also, on reflection, character-driven inevitability. It's super work.Even so, does anyone else feel that Amis writes a tad long? In the middle of "The Information" I found myself pushing ahead, fearful that I might lose interest and not finish. Then, I found myself stopping to reread great bits from Amis that I had rushed over. Here's one: "Belladonna was a punk. That is to say, she had gone at herself as if to obliterate the natural gifts. Her mascara she wore like a burglar's eye-mask; her lipstick was approximate and sanguinary, her black hair spiked and looped and asymmetrical, like the pruned trees outside the window. Punk was physical democracy. And it said: let's all be ugly together." Two good descriptive words for Amis are brilliant and exasperating. But do we really need so much of the character Scozzy?

Leave English to the English. No North American could possibly produce such a rich, red wine novel: smoky, dark, giddiness-inducing.But the subject is so perverse!Richard Tull is an Oxford-educated former novelist with delusions of publishing. His life is an unmitigated horror show. After a very modest and ever-dwindling success with his first novels, his next three do not even find publishers.For the narrator of "The Information", ulcer-burning envy sizzles and pops between every clack of fingers on keyboard. According to Amis's vision, every writer secretly regards every other as a talentless, undeserving moron. Every writer robs every other of recognition, fame, money, status, immortality, and sex. In short, every writer is robbed by every other of nothing less than undifferentiated, pre-Oedipal love from the entire universe.What makes writing such a torturous profession? The sheer sedentary inactivity? The need to put perfect words to every sensation, no matter how miserable or otherwise fleeting? Richard's miserable income as a professional book reviewer (reviewing Other People's Books) has him "receiving a solicitor's letter from his own solicitor" while "being summarily fired, through the post, by his own literary agent." With belly-flopping bathos, even Richard's vacuum cleaner fails him, leaving his study lined with symbolic dust.Richard drinks to forget that he drinks to forget why he drinks, and then he drinks more because he forgets that he is already drunk. When he isn't drinking, he chain-smokes and takes unfashionable drugs he can't afford. At age forty, his face has irretrievably collapsed. His marriage threatens to follow.Imagine Richard's outrage when his "oldest and stupidest friend", Gwyn Barry, has his second vacuous novel enter the best-seller list. Gwyn is toothy, frisky, and dazzlingly insensitive. Gwyn's novels are soon translated into dozens of languages, while he earns massive critical endorsement, celebrity and money.Richard wants to knock Gwyn's literary ice-cream cone out of his hand and into the dirt. Richard wants to hurt Gwyn very badly indeed. After Richard's first attempt to reach out and wound someone goes awry, he decides to hire a professional to make Gwyn's life unliveable. Will Richard succeed? Has Richard ever succeeded at anything?As Richard learns, jealousy begets jealousy. When someone has it going on, they usually really have it going on. With professional success comes money, then social cachet, then sexual desirability. This means virtually complete satisfaction on every level that really counts at the end of the day. Good times all around, keep the change, etc. In an earlier novel, "Success", Amis coins the perfect term for this kind of spiraling upward-mobility: "socio-sexual self-betterment".Amis also bravely uncovers the latent attraction between Richard and Gwyn; only Eros could fuel the fear behind their cracklingly catastrophic, passionately paranoid interactions. In choosing a nemesis to ado

amis' writing is always a true joy. who better to spend your day with than richard tull, the information's disheveled, cynical and (frequently) drunk protagonist whose running commentary showcases the author's talented wit and insight. an amis novel reads like no other. diregard "beginning, middle and end." forget trying to piece together who all of the characters are, where they came from, and why. instead sit back and devour prose at its best. the information presents irony upon irony. the good guy doesn't always (or, in this case, ever) win, dispelling the often repeated myth. just when you think that things can't get worse for mr. tull, our friend is hit with yet another blow to the ego. dark humor surrounds him, thus you can't help but chuckle (rather than tear up) for this unsuccessful writer's misfortune. constantly on a quest for "the information," tull is forever revealing bits of it to the reader whilst keeping his audience (and himself) guessing. what is "the information?" give this latest amis book a try and discover it for yourself. double thumbs up for this read