Martin Amis - Lionel Asbo: State of England

The Telegraph“No more diagnostically sophisticated than Vicky Pollard...” Being an Amis novel it’s not without the odd good joke, and he is, of course, incapable of writing an inelegant line. But 'Lionel Asbo' has none of the ambition of 'Money' or 'London Fields' with their complex framing devices and formal ingenuity..

Publishers Weekly“Terrific, lithe novel...” Amis adopts a big, playful storytelling voice in this book. He riffs like a jazz master, in and out of vernacular, with brief gusts of description, all driven by a tight bass line of suspense...

Financial Times“Fails to shock... ” I hate to say this, because my hopes were high, but this novel becomes well and truly dull. Amis simply doesn’t do much with the premise beyond what most readers could concoct for themselves...

The Scotsman“Plenty of life left in Amis as a satirist...” Amis is sometimes accused of making fun of the lower orders, but here, often brilliantly, the jokes are on those who exploit the Lionels of this world when they suddenly come into money or notoriety. Delivers some of the most tender writing...

The Independent“Had me roaring with laughter...” Located in an England that reveals itself to be a fair bit older than the one it affects to describe. I am determined not to shit - to say that this style, so effective in its 1980s heyday, is showing its age...

Evening Standard“A verbally inventive comedy...” 'Lionel Asbo' is the first Martin Amis novel for a long time to come out of his natural vein for rough farce, the scabrous exposure of human grossness. At last, here is some more fiction by him that doesn’t assert its ultimate seriousness...

Guardian“Another pornotheological farce...” The resulting mess is then held together with a basic suspense hook. We are kept waiting for hundreds of pages for a heavily flagged murder or sexual betrayal or – in the case of the new book – to find out who let the dogs in...

The Observer“A paean to and an attack on London...” Is this an offensive book? Hell, yes. Deeply. But then maybe modern England needs offending. Is this a readable book? It's a Big Mac made from filet mignon. The novel comes at you and comes at you and keeps on coming. It never flags...