In the Gulag, it was not the case that people died like flies. Rather, flies died like people.
Martin AmisOnce, as he inhaled with his customary vehemence, I had a thought that made my armpits come alive.
Martin AmisRust is the failure of the work of man. The project, the venture, the experiment: failed, given up on, and not cleaned up after.
Martin AmisOppression lays down blood-lust. It lays it down like a wine.
Martin AmisThere is a Western phenomenon called the male midlife crisis. Very often it is heralded by divorce. What history might have done to you, you bring about on purpose: separation from woman and child. Don’t tell me that such men aren’t tasting the ancient flavors of death and defeat.
In America, with divorce achieved, the midlifer can expect to be more recreational, more discretionary. He can almost design the sort of crisis he is going to have: motorbike, teenage girlfriend, vegetarianism, jogging, sports car, mature boyfriend, cocaine, crash diet, powerboat, new baby, religion, hair transplant.
Over here, now, there’s no angling around for your male midlife crisis. It is brought to you and it is always the same thing. It is death.
They did more than take our youth away. They also took away the men we were going to be.
Martin AmisTwenty-two poems covered the period from Lev’s first serious efforts to his arrest in 1948 at the age of nineteen. Very Mandelstamian, I adjudged: well-made, and studiously conversational, and coming close, here and there, to the images that really hurt and connect.
Martin AmisVenus, I’m sorry that you’ve gone on minding that I didn’t let you drive me to O’Hare. “That’s what we do,” you said: “We drive each other to and from the airport.” Do you realize how rare that is? No one does it anymore, not even newlyweds. All right – it was selfish of me to decline. I said it was because I didn’t want to say goodbye to you in a public place. But I think it was the asymmetry of it that was really troubling me. You and I, we drive each other to and from the airport. And I didn’t want a to when I knew there wouldn’t be a from.
Martin AmisWhen a man conclusively exalts one woman, and one woman only, “above all others,” you can be pretty sure you are dealing with a misogynist. It frees him up for thinking the rest are shit.
Martin AmisWhen you’ve lost all your play, guess what love becomes. Work. Work that gets harder every hour.
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