Other People: A Mystery Story

Despite going on a Martin-Amis-reading jag a while back, I never appreciated him much. I recognize that he's a hell of a writer, but his narrative perspective tends to be on the chilly and clinical side, which rarely appeals much to me. So, after burning through four or five of his well-written but remote books, I gave up on his fiction. (His non-fiction is more hit-and-miss for me.)

Nonetheless, I've had one brief passage from his Other People: A Mystery Story stick in my memory for years now:

[Mary] turned, and Russ sauntered into the kitchen--loose-shouldered, sidling Russ, with his glamourous black T-shirt, his chunky blue jeans, and his extraordinary shoes, which resembled a pair of squashed rats. To Mary's eyes, these rats were far from satisfied with their role in life and always seemed to be resentfully contemplating their comeback. (1981 Penguin paperback, pages 79-80)

It's such an odd description; I can't picture this character as anything other than a perambulating cubist sketch, and that's before I even try to factor those shoes into the equation.