I think it's pleasingly ironic that I'm blogging about Martin Amis's The Rachel Papers on Valentine's Day; really, nothing could be less sentimental and mushy than Amis's novel about precocious young sex fiend Charlie Highway and his pursuit of the mysterious Rachel.
Sentimentality is either entirely rejected or mercilessly mocked in this novel as Charlie minutely and meticulously dissects first his desire for Rachel and then their relationship. If you're looking for the novelistic prelude to a romantic comedy (the film version stars Ione Skye, that '80s ingenue who did so much for Say Anything, and therefore might make one think this is that kind of film and therefore book), do not read The Rachel Papers, for you will be disappointed and perhaps offended.
If, however, you're looking for a book that's relentlessly satirical (that is, funny and mean, two of my favourite things, especially when combined) about sex, love, intellectual pursuits, the human body, deep emotions - anything really important to most 19-year-olds - then you'll love this novel.
I loved The Rachel Papers. Besides being funny and mean, the writing was really damned good. I laughed a lot. I cringed. I was annoyed, but in a pleasurable way. Often, I stopped to notice the writing, which is something I don't do enough. There will be more Martin Amis in my reading future, count on it.
4 comments:
Well you already know my ambivalent reaction to this book, but I can really agree with you about the writing. In honor of Charles Highway, I'll say it was just f---ing splendid :-)
Funny and mean! And bespattered with my name! I will read it.
Verbivore: You know, if the written *weren't* fucking splendid, I would probably have hated this book!
Raych: Please don't hold it against me if you don't enjoy this...
See, even if you'd been all, RAYCH! YOU NEEEEED TO READ THIS! I couldn't hold it against you. Because this is EXACTLY the kind of book I like! I think what I'm trying to say is, it's not the book, it's me.
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