No author I love has produced more mediocre books than Kingsley Amis. It hasn't stopped me from my determination to read them all, but this one was a real slog. It's about the relationship between a biographer and his subject, an elderly writer and unrepentant snob. The characters are thin and so is the plot. It was Amis' last published book, and the bad reviews made him comment that terrible notices wrecked his breakfast but not his lunch. There's nothing as clever as that in the book.
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