Time's Arrow

With a wet washer I smear on a field of mascara below my eyes and then retreat to the kitchen to regurgitate a small white tablet, perfectly intact. Some water comes up too, which I return to the tap. It's bedtime, but before I'm even under the doona, I feel the weight of sleepiness. I note the time, and then check my alarm clock to check if I'm right. I am. I make the decision to get up, but I don't. Instead, I immediately dream. I dream that the succession of events are reversed.

When I wake up it's dark and my doona has organised itself into a neat spread. I then pick up a book and faithfully read, not flick, from the very last sentence. I read a few chapters. The events are in the right order, unlike my dreams.

Over the next couple of days, I continue to read in this unorthodox fashion, until I give the book to the man at the library desk, who zaps it. Then I have to return the book to the shelf. I make this incantation: "Sima, Sima, Sima" while running my finger along the "A" section of Adult Fiction.

A few hours pass and I have the desire to reread Time's Arrow, but I don't act on this desire. Instead, a couple of weeks later, Emma Wilkins recommends the very book I wish to read (and have recently read). I feign ignorance, and the book is spoken of no more.

* * *

Anyway, I'm recommending Time's Arrow to you. A man wakes up at his death, and time runs in reverse. Nails appear from the rubbish bin and attach themselves to his fingers. The flames spit out letters. It's not just the gimmick of events told in the wrong order which carries this book. Martin Amis explores stuff (which I haven't got my head around yet) and other stuff (which if I told you would constitute spoiling).

Read it, if you already have. If you haven't, this has predestined the failure of my recommendation to you. ;)

A couple of caveats though; the book will disturb your mental health and there's a fair bit of sexual content.