Finally, a coherent thought!

Pity it isn’t a good one.

I read my first Martin Amis book at age 11 (about three decades too young, in my estimation), and I’d like to think he’s done his small part in shaping me as a person. Over the years his books have made me giggle and flinch and ponder and gasp. However, until today, not a single one has succeeded in pissing me off. And now I’m pissed off. I am pissed off. My feelings are even slightly hurt.

The reviews of his latest novel, ‘Yellow Dog,’ have been so unanimously virulent and so widespread (on CNN, BBC, MSN.com, and sundry others) that I couldn’t wait to read it. It was with a great and unrewarded sense of loftiness that I cracked it open on Christmas day. “They just don’t get what Amis is all about,” I proclaimed.

Well, I finished it two hours ago, and frankly, I’m both crushed and annoyed. It’s immediately evident, and would be even to non-Amis fans, that he’s just deliberately set out to infuriate any sane reader. Good Lord, the things he chose to piss on! The British monarchy, for one (and you wonder why BBC suggested book-burning as too kind a fate for ‘Yellow Dog’), and women and children for another. And the things he exalts? Yeah, pornography is a big one. Violence. Incest, plane crashes, racism, and consumerism, to name a few.

All that aside, there are other ways he set about to piss people off. The names are one: men named Semen, Bugger, Royce, Mal, Xan, And. There is a woman named He. There are also women named Russia, Imaculada, and Reynolds. I mean… Reynolds? And there’s a totally ridiculous proportion of the book devoted to the adult-film industry, in gag-worthy detail. I’m so irritated by all this. By the end of the book I was ranting at Amis out loud: “You arsehole! What am I supposed to learn from this book? How to give somebody head trauma? Why chicks can’t be trusted? HOW TO WRITE A TERRIBLE BOOK?”

Gasp, rant, froth. Umm… anyway… don’t read the book.

I haven’t had a coherent thought for about forty-eight hours (or, if you go by Kim’s clock, twenty-two years). Either it’s been my steady diet of old civil war songs, continuous episodes of the Muppet Show, economics, and jam… or… someone is using a ray on me.

Right now, I’m going with the ray.

RANDOM DECEMBER-RELATED RANTS

1. My father’s sister, who’s been slowly dying for almost a year now, died Monday morning. My grandfather died on November 16th. My gentleman friend’s great-grandmother died on the 18th. Dammit, people! It’s called “Don’t die right before the holidays”!! I mean, geez.

2. To go with the dying rant, why is it that so many people have this burning desire to celebrate Jesus’ birth with a tiny, shedding dead tree in their living room? Stop killing trees for Christmas, you lousy yokels, and buy a nice ten-foot blue spruce lookalike from the Bay. You know you want to.

3. Also, regarding Christmas lights… I wish my neighbours would turn theirs off at some point during the night. What with the streetlight and the moon added, my room is lit up like a photo shoot.

4. Finally… when my economics 101 prof wound up his final lecture this morning, some schmuck started clapping, and - because humans are stupid - everyone else started to clap too without thinking. I wanted to stand up and scream “Why are you fucking applauding this guy for doing his job? Your tuition dollars pay his salary! Look, he’s leaving the room! See? See? You can stop clapping now!”

Ugh. I feel bitter. Time for some chocolate and a nap.