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|title=Time's Arrow

|author=Martin Amis

|buy=Maybe

|borrow=Yes

|pages=176

|publisher=Vintage

|date=August 2003

|isbn=0099455358

}}

Tod T Friendly begins his existence moments after his death. He died of a heart attack and his life began. His topsy turvy, upside down, back to front life. The first thing he sees are the doctors armed with the cardio-resucitation equipment that failed to save him. Tod is old, very old. His first weeks and months alive are full of confusion. He's in hospital, his mind wanders and he's confined to his bed. But somewhere inside him exists our narrator - Tod's soul, or spirit, if you like. These two do not always sit easily together, our narrator feels separate - he knows he's inside Tod but Tod is blissfully unaware of anything existing within him. Tod is so old it's not surprising he's confused but Tod's soul is confused because he can see it's all going the wrong way. He knows what way time SHOULD be running. Tod isn't worried but Tod's soul is. Tod has no backwards memory but his soul does; confused, unclear, dreamlike memories they may be, but that soul knows there is trouble ahead. Tod likes to look up into the night sky at the stars and constellations but his soul doesn't. Something there is linked to the dreams that Tod has, or nightmares rather, and although Tod doesn't recognise a connection his soul does. Tod's nightmares are peopled with children and a ghostly, evil, terrifying figure that is somewhere between a doctor and the devil. He has a secret but he doesn't know it - our narrator does, but doesn't know what it is. What he does know is that it's a terrible secret.

My favourite books from many authors are often the early ones. They may not be the masterpieces that all those early ones aspired to and worked towards and they are not the darlings of the lit-crit world, or the subjects of admiring undergraduate dissertations. They're rough sometimes and they have flaws. They aren't the seven volumes and thousands of pages of esoteric perfection that is Proust's Temps Perdu. They aren't a final expression and culmination of a talent but what they have is an energy and raw freshness that often get lost along the authorial career path. So they may not receive universal acclaim and the plaudits of the most learned but they are often, in my amateur opinion, a darn sight more accessible and oh, so much more entertaining. But I think Time's Arrow gives the lie to my little theory - it's not an early book. Yet it feels like one - I don't think Amis had lost any of that freshness when he wrote it. I like the pyrotechnic way with words that he has. I like the dry wit, the nasty humour and the way Amis has of showing it off. He's not a modest writer by any means. And yes - the usual cliché - I think you do always want to turn the page.

Are you glad I didn't write this backwards?

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