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Martin Amis is the finest working essayist in English. Given the frequent prolixity of many modern novelists working in the language as compared, to, say, French or Farsi, this makes him the finest living essayist, period. (Need more substantiation?.)
Sad, then that the essay is an art form that is so grossly unappreciated in this age of groking and groping for online attention. While, of course, it would make Amis the finest living grokker as well (olde’ world for online opining) a writer of his stature simply does not need to blog.
And we wish he would.
Then he may write fewer novels.
The very qualities that make him a great essayist tend to lessen the power of his verbal pyrotechnics during lengthier prose. While storyline and character development may seem a bit mundane to the lovers of the post modern novelist (of which Amis is not) or even to the bad boys of British Lit., we think they still matter when it comes to spending a long spell of time with a book.
Or a Nook.
Something just seems, well, amiss.




