Id like to dispense straightaway with what I like about Martin Amis and move on to the meatier stuff. His secondary life’s project—his primary one being himself—can be seen as an attempt to write out how harassing the daily details of life can be. I like his characters’ endless confrontation with the banal gone crazy. That’s why, in The Information (1995), Richard-the-not-well-known-novelist’s paisley pajamas are soaked in sweat, that’s why he fears his mail, that’s the whole thing about lugging the Hoover. His wife says: “Could you nip round to the electrician and pop the Hoover in?” And it is torture, not only because “Richard’s nipping and popping days were definitely over” but also because the Hoover becomes the luggable metaphor for all that he has failed to achieve. He is convinced that Beckett never had to nip around the corner and get his vacuum cleaner fixed. ( ...

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