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Rating:  -
Martin Amis's Money is a stumbling, swirling, sodden romp though the protagonist's brain. As anti-hero John Self bounces back and forth between London and New York, pursuing a questionable movie deal, he spins the hilarious tale of his drunken, pornographic life.
Comparison's to Kinglsey Amis's Lucky Jim are inevitable, as both are comic novels dealing with sad-sack, affable drunks. Where Lucky Jim is charming, with likable characters and a coherent plot, Money is chaotic, with abrasive characters and a shaggy, almost stream-of-conscience plot line. Money is also a little longer than it needs to be (it gets repetitive) and uses a few post-modern tricks that are too cheeky for my taste (Martin Amis is a character, for example). But what makes Money worth reading is that it is funny. Sometimes it is laugh-out-loud funny. That, and the feeling that John Self isn't quite the ogre he makes himself out to be, keeps the pages turning.
Rating: -
Perhaps the best of Martin Amis' novels; he seems to have been struggling to reinvent himself - with highly variable levels of success - in the years since.
MONEY takes Amis' sense of satirical humor to its' extreme - this is one of the funniest novels I think I've ever read, but also one of the meanest: the satire of certain values that were allowed to bubble to the surface during the 1980s is a tad dated, but here it's also ruthless, merciless, comedy as a weapon in some greater scorched-earth war of values. Amis in some ways also satirizes certain of his contemporaries' attempts at doing the same - if lesser works like LESS THAN ZERO, BRIGHT LIGHTS BIG CITY, or the Didion that influenced such works seem dated by now, MONEY is a full-on assault upon the style, with Amis' extremely detailed writing standing in sharp contrast with the general wispiness that was then the fashion in literary circles.
Amis almost overdoes it - the humor is the main thing to pull you through this ingenious novel, as none of the characters are likable in the slightest. But - as comedy and as a technical achievement - it is very impressive, sort of a 'Taxi Driver'-with laughs (and money).
-David Alston
Rating: -
John Self, named such by Amis to represent all of humanity, is a man whose world is controlled by money and sex. Afraid of what life might bring him if he freed himself from his addictions, he succumbs instead to the mantra that just a little more money will fix your problems, that it seems to be working for everyone else so it will work for you too. Like all members of a capitalist system about which Amis seems to be prophesying, Self believes deep down that once he hits the money, his problems will disappear, his obesity, his loneliness, his addictions, and all the rest.
The problem is he already has the money. He has had the money, spent the money, and still has the money. Money is not the issue. The mindset of the people in his world is that if he would "relax, . . . sink a couple of thou into [his] backhand, . . . quit smoking, drink less, eat right . . . go to high-priced health clubs and fancy massage studios . . . undergo a series of long, painful and expensive operations" then he (and you, the universal Mr. Self) will be ready for success in today's society. It is an alluring dream, is it not?
Reviewed by Jonathan Stephens
Rating: -
Fabulously entertaining novel from Martin Amis which easily eclipses the rather depressing `Information.' John Self is a blatantly materialistic hedonist who works as a profitable director of commercials. He is an alcoholic, a misogynist, and a microcosm of mainstream American culture in the 1980's. John has also landed a gig directing a feature film, titled `Good Money,' and `Bad Money,' depending on what day of the week it is. Amis' writing is mordantly brilliant; both acerbic and biting. There are transactions in here that I just love, such as John's stinging interactions with his girlfriend Selina:
" `I've just gone off sex,' said Selina this morning, as she finished the tea I fondly brought her.
`So?' I asked her.
`God, be nice. Use your imagination. It'll pass. I've just gone off sex.'
Then what do you think is the point of you? I wanted to say. But I didn't. I resisted the temptation. I looked into the proud drama of her face, the valves and orbits of her throat, the wetlook runnels of her hair, the breasts, heavier than ever, solidly mounted on the ribcage, the naked slopes of the belly, the sudden flaring of the hips, a smell of sleep.
`Then what do you think is the point of you?'
`You', she said, `are unreal' (226).
You should read Amis for his remarkable power of description, his talent for black comedy and middle-aged disillusionment. Pay little heed to his flights into post-modernity, they are merely exercises in literary chic.
Rating:  -
It is seldom that I leave a book without having finished it. It seemed to me to be extremely repetitive. John Self is (ha ha) an egotist advertisement-director Britishman who travels to the US to negotiate his first major film. An alcoholic and drug-addict, Self lives obssesed with a woman who cheats on him on a permanent basis. He gets drunk so many times it stops being funny. Amis can write and has a good sense of humor, but the story goes nowhere. Maybe other books by him are better.
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