From: jleveau
Category: Amis
Date: 7/28/99
Time: 10:22:10 AM
Remote Name: 205.188.192.59
It's true, it was a painful read. But Im not sorry I read it.
I think, however, that even if you're going to create a metaphysical crime story, the trail of bread crumbs still have to lead to the cauldron.
Why Jennifer Rockwell, who was not a habitual drug user, steals the drugs from her helter skelter roommate is never explained, nor is the mysterious fact that despite her suicidal tendencies, her sex drive never wanes, only to one or two times a day (!). Why does she take such pains to leave a trail of red herrings, like Arnold Debs, for Mike Hoolihan to investigate? And her anger at the living? Only that they failed to meet her high standards, an implausible justification given that we are told that Jennifer's opinion of humanity is that we are all a bunch of retards, too dumb to understand the intelligence of the planet we live on. But, she concedes, part of the fun is "banging our heads against the lid." This is an infuriating contradiction and one that, from any reasonable, logical standpoint--wipes out motive, metaphysical or otherwise. So we are left with the Bootes Void. A whodunit with a blackhole at the center. Well, it is a first. That much at least can be said.
Maybe no-one, not even the savviest devotee should expect a tidy, color-by numbers ending from Amis, but in this case, experimentalism is just a sophisticated way of saying that Amis was really, really lazy. It has a haphazard, rushed as you pointed out-- quality. It's not difficult to imagine an editor playing Mike Hammer and having to stitch it all together at the end to make it readable.
But it is a provocative book, and it is exciting to read. I'd be curious to see the film, if it ever materializes, which it probably will. Beautiful cadavers are quite in style at the moment.