Lazy post today, I know, but it's difficult for me to re-read any Martin Amis and not share some of it. This time it's from "The Information", which is, as I could have predicted, making me bark with laughter at regular intervals on my train.
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The boys in the next room - they heard his savage cries but hardly registered them, so familiar was their timbre. Perhaps Daddy had misplaced his pencil sharpener, or dropped a paper clip? Because Richard's relationship with the physical world of things, always very poor, had deteriorated sharply. Christ, the dumb insolence of inanimate objects! He could never understand what was *in it* for inanimate objects, behaving as they did. What was *in it* for the doorknob that hooked your jacket pocket as you passed? What was *in it* for the jacket pocket?
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That's sweetly mild Amis, of course, but I, err, rather relate to it.