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Money by Martin Amis

Money (1984)

by Martin Amis

Other authors: See the other authors section.

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2,261372,835 (3.68)94
  1. 01
    Fury by Salman Rushdie (vsnunez)
    vsnunez: Both are clever, well-written tales of modern life from a British point of view, but set largely in NYC

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» See also 94 mentions

English (36)  Spanish (1)  All languages (37)
Showing 1-5 of 36 (next | show all)
This was really an essential text for me. I first read it shortly after it came out in the U.S. (1985) and it was like nothing I had ever come across before. A hydrogen-bomb of a novel. The sheer speed of the narrative, the word play, the telling detail. In short Money possessed the masterful technique that causes a narrative to jump from the page. Though "originality" we now know is something of a misnomer--every artist has his or her models and Amis has always been quite frank about his--nevertheless I have found no one who quite equals MA. He is unique. He makes it new, as the problematic Ezra Pound is famous for saying. ( )
  William345 | Jun 11, 2014 |
Martin Amis is one twisted f**k, that's for sure. But his insight into the human condition is unparalleled. His use of himself as a character in his own book was unusual. All told, Money is an excellent book. ( )
  dysmonia | Apr 15, 2014 |
Martin Amis is one twisted f**k, that's for sure. But his insight into the human condition is unparalleled. His use of himself as a character in his own book was unusual. All told, Money is an excellent book. ( )
  dysmonia | Apr 15, 2014 |
Martin Amis is one twisted f**k, that's for sure. But his insight into the human condition is unparalleled. His use of himself as a character in his own book was unusual. All told, Money is an excellent book. ( )
  dysmonia | Apr 15, 2014 |
What finally drew me in was when about two thirds of the way through I discovered a quote, possibly the seed of an idea, which felt like discovering the handwriting of someone I knew in a random purchase from a second-hand shop.

Otherwise it was another journey into the underworld and parts of my own dark side in the grubby paws of another unreliable / unpleasant narrator. (Just because one may not have *done* the same things doesn't mean that the mindset doesn't click. Also, the idea that such characters were there because everyone has dark sides and can identify with elements of them was one I grew up with - yet I never see it in online reviews where posters, who presumably did not, are often anxious to distance themselves from such "eww" characters.) Mostly it didn't leave me feeling exactly worthwhile, the emphasis of all that laziness and greed. Not long after this I decided to read no more of this type of narrator because this year they have affected me too deeply, and it didn't seem like a good idea, or conducive to any sort of productivity, to feel like a rotten person who'd spent their life among rotten people. But it did - whilst to most being one of the least obvious texts to do so - spark me to write a lot of stuff for myself about genderqueer. John Self and Selina Street are extremes of gender stereotyping; for me it is about the deep understanding of what it is to be both.

As art, as writing, Money is undoubtedly very good. Though it did (especially until the crucial quote) bring to mind what was once a favourite term of music journalists, fretwank. Technically great, but somewhat unoriginal in its themes and definitely bloated. Though bloatedness is the essence of John Self and the culture Amis is criticising, so it is apt and deliberate, whilst still being unpleasant. ( )
  antonomasia | Oct 22, 2013 |
Showing 1-5 of 36 (next | show all)
"the best celebrity novel I know: the stars who demand and wheedle their way across his plot seem less like caricature and more like photorealism every year."
added by GYKM | editTime, David Lipsky (Jul 5, 2010)

» Add other authors (9 possible)

Author nameRoleType of authorWork?Status
Martin Amisprimary authorall editionsconfirmed
Golüke, GuidoTranslatorsecondary authorsome editionsconfirmed
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This is a suicidal note. By the time you lay it aside (and you should always read these things slowly, on the lookout for clues or give-aways), John Self will no longer exist. Or at any rate that's the idea. You never can tell, though, with suicide notes, can you? In the planetary aggregate of all life, there are many more suicide notes than there are suicides. They're like poems in that respect, suicide notes: nearly everyone tries their hand at them some time, with or without the talent. We all write them in our heads. Usually the note is the thing. You complete it, and then resume your time travel. It is the note and not the life that is cancelled out. Or the other way round. Or death. You never can tell, though, can you, with suicide notes.

To whom is the note addressed? To Martina, to Fielding, to Vera, to Alec, to Selina, to Barry - to John Self? No. It is meant for you out there, the dear, the gentle. 

M.A. London, September 1981
To Antonia
First words
As my cab pulled of FDR Drive, somewhere in the early Hundreds, a low-slung Tomohawk full of black guys came sharking out of lane and slopped in fast right across our bows.
The quenched light of this joke June, in the shape of a sail or a breast, swells its camber across the room.
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Amazon.com Amazon.com Review (ISBN 0140088911, Paperback)

Absolutely one of the funniest, smartest, meanest books I know. John Self, the Rabelaisian narrator of the novel, is an advertising man and director of TV commercials who lurches through London and Manhattan, eating, drinking, drugging and smoking too much, buying too much sex, and caring for little else besides getting the big movie deal that will make him lots of money. Hey, it was the '80s. Most importantly, however, Amis in Money musters more sheer entertainment power in any single sentence than most writers are lucky to produce in a career.

(retrieved from Amazon Mon, 30 Sep 2013 13:45:54 -0400)

(see all 5 descriptions)

John Self, the extravagantly wretched man at the heart of this wonderfully funny book, is no ordinary pig. A slave to his countless vices, a monster of lustrous indulgence, he's the kind of sleazeball who puts the id back in idiot. Naturally, he's in the movie business. To be precise, he's a director of TV commercials who is making his first feature while perfecting his gift for self-destruction. (And, by the way, offering what is frequently an astute take on this profane world of ours.) Self's spectacular lusts, his raw craving for money, sex and stimulants, his low cunning, his sheer, bewitching awfulness - somehow it all makes him perfectly irresistible.… (more)

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