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Executive Times |
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2008 Book Reviews |
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The
Second Plane: September 11: Terror and Boredom by Martin Amis |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click
on title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Reflections
There
are fourteen thoughtful reflections in the collection from Martin Amis
titled, The
Second Plane: September 11: Terror and Boredom. Two are short stories and
twelve are essays and book reviews. Amis reflects about the impact of 9/11,
and the pieces are arranged chronologically to show the evolution of his
thinking. The prose is strong and sharply witted, providing pleasure both for
readers who agree and who disagree with his opinions. Here’s an excerpt, from
the beginning of the short story titled, “In the Palace of the End,” pp.
31-33: As
one of the doubles of the son of the dictator, I am quite often to be found
in the Palace of the End. Six days a week, to be precise: and twelve hours a
day. Actual public impersonations of the successor (parades, investitures,
going on television, and the like) are by now a thing of the past. But we
have our standing duties. In the mornings I set about my work in the
Interrogation Wing. Then, in the afternoons, following a glass of scented
coffee with the other doubles, I make filmed love to or have filmed sex with-a
series of picked beauties in the Recreation Wing. The Palace of the End is
built in the shape of a titanic eagle: the beaked head downturned, the
scalloped pinions out-thrust ... It was the brainchild of Old Nadir, who is
very slowly dying of the injuries he sustained in the notorious "toilet
bomb" assault at another of his palaces, in the south of our country.
And now all power rests with his only son: Nadir the Next. Until recently, at least, my work in the
Interrogation Wing was not particularly onerous. I wasn't obliged to participate
in the full course of the numerous procedures. My job
was to "appear," with surreal suddenness, at the climax of this or
that cross-questioning (which might have gone on for days or weeks); flanked
by armed infantrymen, I would stamp into the cubicle, wearing camouflage
fatigues and cripplingly heavy combat boots, and administer one backhand
blow to the suspect's face. And that was all. But nowadays, for several
reasons, I am expected, as are the other doubles, to apply myself more
variedly. We have not exactly been reduced to the status of mere bucket-boys
and poker-warmers no; but in these tense times we must put ourselves about
and show willing. The
interior of the Interrogation Wing used to be laid out in the traditional
"cells and cellars" arrangement: dripping passageways, clanking
iron doors, rooms within rooms ("the kennels"), and so on with the howls
and screeches of the suspects decently muffled or snatched or cut short. Now
it's open-plan. One enters an anti-hospital, a vast factory of excruciation:
there the strappado, here the bastinado; there the rack, here the wheel. The
more communal atmosphere is meant "to discourage the others," and
it's certainly true that, from the suspect's point of view, the induction
into the Interrogation Wing is far worse than any death. Indeed, it was more
or less universal practice for the prisoners to attempt instant suicide by
the only means available - by the dental excision, that is to say, of their
own tongues. However
understandable, this practice also entrained a paradox: the tongueless ones,
their mouths moreover crammed with soiled gauze, could neither proclaim their
innocence nor (by far the wiser course) trumpet their guilt. But in the end
it made no difference. At a certain point ‑
perhaps months later the suspect's head would give a lolling nod, and the
interrogator would stroll to the old Xerox machine for the standard
confession (which the suspect would then initial). After more torture
preludial to death, 99 percent of those who enter the Interrogation Wing are
eventually hanged; the remainder are sent home fatally envenomed, with a day
or two to live and, no doubt, a tale or two to tell. The tongueless ones
cannot tell their tale, but they can sketch it, write it, mime it, while they
live. Thus would they too play their part in shoring up respect for the
essentially personal rule of Nadir the Next. Anyway, these days the question of the
tongueless ones is academic. There are no more tongueless ones. All suspects
now have their teeth smashed and pulled in the anteroom of the Reception
Hall, long before they are even fingerprinted by the registrars. I’ve
tended to prefer Amis’ fiction, so that’s why I chose the excerpt from one of
the short stories. Reading The
Second Plane led me to reflect on what I think about as the impact of
9/11. That was a bonus to my appreciation of Amis’ fine writing. Spend a
reflective fortnight reading one of these pieces each day. Steve
Hopkins, July 18, 2008 |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the August 2008 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/The Second Plane.htm For Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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