I still felt tolerably spermy and Joycean after my night with Gloria.Tell me if this is not youth in a nutshell – splendidly and carelessly lumping together the two mythological Eros – of creation and sex, the most important things the young artist cares to think about, although,Since Henry Miller's Tropic books, of course, it has become difficult to talk sensibly on the question of girls' cunts.For what else is Charles Highway than a fresh budding artist who meticulously compartmentalized his eventful life in labelled files ready to use when he is old and twenty and begins to write his Book. And what better experience than a whole three-month relationship to find its subject … together with the pattern of his future, adult behaviour?… something has definitely happened to me, and I'm very keen to know what it is. So: if I run through, let's say, the last three months, and if I try to sort out all my precocity and childishness, my sixth-form cleverness and fifth-form nastiness, all the self-consciousness and self-disgust and self-infatuation and self-... you name it, perhaps I'll be able to locate my hamartia and see what kind of grownup I shall make.With this insightful probing begins the hilarious journey of an obnoxiously funny adolescent, who tries it all: drugs, alcohol, free sex, while feeling contempt for parents and seeming obliged to fool teachers, forever suffering from a superiority complex that entitles him to get away with almost everything, even dubious bohemian behaviour, like the famous reused condom scene, that gave me laughing cramps:My fingers curled round the Gloria-moistened Trojan, flicked it aside, and burrowed deeper into the pool of tissue, banana skin and cigarette ash, until it found the one used that afternoon on Rachel herself. I have my standards, thank you. Excuse me, but I do have my principles. True, Gloria's would have been nicer, because Rachel's was much dirtier and danker and colder than hers.Well, our hero does have principles indeed! Principles that make him seriously reconsider his life when he notices the worms of dirt born from the friction of his body with a girl he was almost unconsciously shagging:…such mind-expanding drug experiences as pork-chop vomiting and consommé diarrhoea (…) ended one mid-August morning when I happened to glance down at the undulating area between my stomach and the stomach of a girl I just so happened to be poking at the time (in a sweaty, hungover state, I might add). What I saw there were worms of dirt… Principles that make him work hard to capture the appropriate tone and the accurate style of the dear Jane letter he sends to Rachel:There was a pleasingly unrehearsed air about the repetition of 'feeling' and 'feel' and of 'changing' and 'changed'. That 'it is I' seemed rather prissy; perhaps 'it's me' would have been a bit beefier and... more modest. And I still can't decide whether all the 'it's' and 'don'ts' are nastily groovy or nicely Robert Frost. But, so far as I know, Rachel is not a fastidious readerPrinciples that don’t let him overlook the age ravages on his mother’s face that could unrealistically adorn her portrait:What a heap. The skin had shrunken over her skull, to accentuate her jaw and to provide commodious cellarage for the gloomy pools that were her eyes; her breasts had long forsaken their native home and now flanked her navel; and her buttocks, when she wore stretch-slacks, would dance behind her knees like punch-balls. The gnomic literature she was reading empowered her to give up on her appearance. Off came her hair, on came the butch jeans and fisherman's jerseys. In her gardening clothes she resembled a slightly effeminate, though perfectly lusty, farm labourer.I could endlessly quote from the novel in order to exemplify the cheeky verbosity of this self-centred, self-conceited, hard-to-like but likeable in a weird way character, who sometimes proves to have unexpected deep feelings, among which the real fear that his parents would divorce, or the temporary sincerity of his feelings for Rachel, or the uncomfortable respect for the old, which he clumsily tries to dismiss by generalization:Like most people, I feel ambiguous guilt for my inferiors, ambiguous envy for my superiors, and mandatory low-spirits about the system itself.For a first novel, The Rachel Papers was as brilliantly young and faulty as expected from a debut, but it was already standing proudly alone. Meanwhile, the writer’s work has grown just as singular and unforgettable as his father’s. Nonetheless, I kinda miss the lucky Jim’s old-fashioned mischievousness. I think it’s time for a re-acquaintance. Just in case...
It was about time, I decided, that I paid some attention to the work of Martin Amis. After all he’s a significant figure in literature; named one the fifty greatest British writers since 1945, son of the late Kingsley Amis, friend of the late Christopher Hitchens and writer of lauded novels and non-fiction. Just as well I’d bought The Rachel Papers a few years ago when I was spending money on novels in an irresponsible fashion. In any case, it’s always good to be prepared, and fortunately Amis did not let me down.The Rachel Papers happens to be Martin Amis’s first novel and features the first person musings of nineteen year old protagonist Charles Highway. Charles is a perfect summation of what it is like to to nineteen: gross, arrogant and horny, very horny. Charles is on the verge of possibly entering Oxford to study literature. He’s also the writer of copious narcissistic tracts about his life, which includes the Rachel papers. This never ending document details just how Charles will win Rachel over and therefore have his way with an older woman (although Rachel is barely older than Charles) before he turns twenty and leaves behind his teenage years forever. Charles is an easy character to warm to due to his witty and engaging observations of, amongst other subjects, the British class system. Also The Rachel Papers has a narrative style that’s akin to Aldous Huxley letting his hair down over the course of a drunken long weekend, which is very entertaining indeed.The Rachel Papers reveals a late teenage mind that is obsessed with not only girls, but also gross bodily functions. There is a great deal of detail about various bodily fluids, including descriptions of of what he hacks out of his bronchial lungs and his battles with massive pimples. Although there is plenty of juvenile humour to be had throughout the novel, The Rachel Papers is much more than it initially seems. The novel presents three significant relationship stages: the youthful and lustful first flush of love in the the form of Charles and Rachel, the problematic middle stages in the form of Highway’s sister - Jennifer and her husband - the proudly lower class Norman, and finally there is the passionless endgame of Highway’s parents. The nature of these relationships provides a clever subtext beneath the grotesque that results in a life lesson for Charles Highway which, in the end, cuts through his adolescent anger at his father and his own indulgent narcissistic tendencies. There are also some literary themes at play, with Highway constantly referencing literary greats such as William Blake and innumerable British poets. It is no coincidence that Highway is attempting to gain entry into Oxford, as it provides Amis with an opportunity to satirize the British education system. Highway is also endlessly taking notes and working on his epically bitter ‘Letter to my Father’ which ironically, it seems to me, is a letter to his future self. It’s tempting to see Amis and his father within this strained relationship. Amis has admitted that Charles is partly based on his youthful self. There’s certainly a cutting self awareness to the narrative, as well as being absolutely hilarious and unashamedly male. Amis also manages to pull off the best sex scene I’ve ever read, which is unflinching in its realism without being cringe-worthy. The novel ends with some of the coldest closing lines I’ve ever read, the kind that only a very brave writer could produce.Upon finishing The Rachel Papers I began to miss it like an old friend who I knew I wouldn’t see for a long time. As a result I’m now a total fan of Martin Amis and I intend to read the rest of his bibliography in order of publication. Amis has been a controversial writer over the years, one who’s raised the ire of many conservative commentators in Great Britain. Over the years his friend Christopher Hitchens staunchly defended Amis, something I’m willing to take on now that Hitchens is dead. I say this with tongue firmly in cheek of course, however it is apparent that The Rachel Papers is an easy target for accusations of misogyny. In its defense I have to say that the novel is not necessarily misogynistic in nature; it is much more accurate to view it in anthropological terms. Amis shows that there is a certain confidence in a young man’s stride, but unfortunately there is also an unresolvable duality at the heart of the male psyche that perhaps few woman (and men) will ever come to terms with. From my blog: http://excelsiorforever.blogspot.com.au/
What do You think about The Rachel Papers (1992)?
I haven't read other Martin Amis novels. I have read analyses about Martin Amis, I have read interviews of Martin Amis and I have read raving reviews of OTHER novels of Martin Amis and I believe everybody who praises his talent. Unfortunately I should have also believed the people who praise his talent and who warned me not to choose The Rachel Papers as an introduction to his work, on the grounds that – surprisingly enough - it sucks. I didn't and it was a big mistake. I chose The Rachel Papers in the hope that it would turn out to be my High Fidelity of the 70s (without the music), or at least a light version of it, because to actually match High Fidelity is too ambitious even for comparable books that chronologically precede it. I also hoped it would turn out to be an easy and fun read about teenage lust, which would be GREAT. Give me the Footloose and Pretty In Pink videotapes ok it’s dvds, anytime and I’ll watch them, never mind the dozens of times I already have done so. For each of these movies./end of synopsis of (laughable in retrospect) expectations.Well. This was no fun read for sure. It wasn't even an easy read and it's a short one, and suffice to say, I won't dignify that book with the slightest comment on potential proximities to a 70s version of anything even remotely related to the Hornby universe. So what is The Rachel Papers? The Rachel Papers is an incredibly B-O-R-I-N-G and badly written coming of age novel about some Charles 20-year old who, similarly to the entire book, is completely humourless. Charles doesn't give a fuck about anything in life except getting laid, preferably with the number one popular Rachel girl, with whom he is obsessed. Which is fine. And completely understandable if you’re not even 20, like Charles.Unfortunately, at least for a human (can’t vouch for extraterrestrials), Charles also features a remarkably rare combination of all of the following: inferiority complexes, delusional ideas of grandeur, sinister feelings for his father, lack of trustworthiness, self-esteem instability, lack of empathy towards everybody, hallucinational – apparently - ideas that planetary systems where being a complete arsehole is cool are already known to man and a desperate need for attention. He is exactly the kind of person who will try to sell their half-knowledge of the Dostoyevsky wikipedia entry (and maybe of one of those short stories by Pushkin) as expertise on Russian literature. You know how it goes.Of course, lovely books where the main character is a complete jerk are not only perfectly possible, but also in existence, in abundance. In fact, 1984 and Crime And Punishment have to be my two most favourite books ever (so far anyway), and the protagonists in both books suck. They suck. One of them is also a murderer! So that's clearly not an issue for me.The issue is that Charles both sucks and has nothing to share with the reader, good or bad. Top this up with a bunch of extra two-dimensional underdeveloped characters – yes; that means Rachel too – and an obnoxiously crude writing style and that's it.Does this sound tempting to you?I didn't think so.
—Eleni
I'm without historical context for why this short novel should sit somewhere in my heart. I hear it was funny at some point. then maybe too cynical at another. It felt to me, at times, like reading a bright young whipper snapper's weblog. Nothing at all wrong with that, just not compelling in any way. amis' writing is always sharp and loaded with extra meanings and his bluntness about how men think about some things must have been a bit of a slap in the face to the post hippie world of the early 70s where men had begun to tell lies about getting in touch with their feminine side. I say lies because you can't retrain instinct, only convert it into something "higher" (by the female measure, of course) before it leaves your mouth. I think the could have been born story here is more about amis and how his intellect has detached him from the reality of the flesh. how ideas and technical terms, timelines and order are neatly placed center stage in experience at the cost of any genuine physical (non-logical) value. in the main character's mind a woman is an assembly of words sniped out of anatomy books. A carriage of well documented bundles of emotion sniped dually from the great writers and a cursory understanding of clinical psychology. Everything is described in terms of something else and nothing is truly what it was, as filter through the unique eyes of a person living it. there's a lot of safety to be marshaled by hiding in one's mind but in this case it keeps the novel a coming of age story (by force of time) rather than a coming of awareness story (by force of life, and experience) and that story is already told daily in the numbed goings on of people far less intelligent. in short, a polemic against the virtue of thought and at once a compelling argument for being a mildly brain injured but highly sensory being.
—Ruzz
I'm both too old and too female to really connect with this book but it's a pretty amazing job for a 24 year old (which is the age Amis was when this published). Such a witty writing style.I wonder if this was the start of the "debut comic coming-of-age novel by and about bookish, awkward English boys with anti-hero protagonists that are thinly veiled versions of the authors themselves" trend? Amis on Oxford: "I dislike the town. Sorry: too many butterfly trendies, upper-class cunts, regional yobs with faces like gravy dinners. And the streets are so affectedly narrow".
—Amy Laurens
