Martin Amis and The Zone of Interest

Every new novel by Martin Amis now faces its own sort of test, it seems: it must be either his best or sign of a decline. Either way, it must move out of the shadow of his most famous novels, his personality, his famous friends, his famous father, his famous life. Each is, in a sense, a little like he was himself when he debuted with The Rachel Papers, and had to make his name, apart from his father. For this reason, I found I could empathize with Mark O’Connell at Slate when he said he wished, for a moment, that he could read this novel as if it were by an entirely unknown writer, and evaluate it that way.

For all that, I think it is better not to—better instead to see it as a part of a group of books in the neighborhood of this one — Time’s Arrow, his most famous of these thus far, twenty-five years in the past; a nonfiction book, Koba the Dread; and the novel House of Meetings. We should think of them as a group, along with all of his novels, and also think of why we do this to our writers — ask them to perform their personality for us in public, and then, when they do, to hold it against them. We should ask why we ask them to challenge themselves aesthetically, and when they do, tell them they’ve abandoned us as readers.

The editors at the Barnes and Noble Review asked me to take a long look at the newest Martin Amis novel, and I did, with pleasure.

Penelope Fitzgerald: A Life

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I have long loved Penelope Fitzgerald, ever since falling for her novels The Gate of Angels and The Blue Flower many years ago. The Gate of Angels remains in my mind a paragon for the acute simplicity of its ending–few novels close with that sort of grace.

It was a pleasure then to review Hermione Lee’s new biography of her for Slate Books.

On November 19th, I’ll be participating in a Penelope Fitzgerald event at the Heyman Center for the Humanities, a conversation about her work with Ellis Avery, Margot Livesey, and Hermione Lee. Please join us.

The Queen of the Night: To Read

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Thanks to the many who have already marked The Queen of the Night as to-read on Goodreads. If you haven’t yet, please consider joining them. Or pre-order with your bookseller of choice.

The above is the photograph we used for the cover with permission from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It is from Pierre Louis Pierson’s The Opera Ball, a series of photos taken of the Comtesse di Castiglione, a major character in the novel.

New Mug, New Novels


I get a new mug, as I begin work on a new novel.

New mug for a new novel.

A photo posted by Alexander Chee (@cheemobile) on

I am working on a new novel because the previous one is finally in production.


A friend writes. She remembers how it was when she first moved on to a new novel, and warns of the way a new draft can depress you after all the long hours on something finished.

I thank her. It would be easy to think I’d forgotten–but I do remember. It was agonizing, and with Queen, seemed to extend for years.

The new novel doesn’t seem to be like that, though.


More specifically: The Queen of the Night is finally, officially, truly on the road to publication. The dates are being discussed but the season will be the Fall of 2015, which for Houghton, extends through February of 2016. I’ll be updating with news here as I get it. I’m very excited to finally share it.

In the meantime, there’s a new novel to work on.

Thank you all for your patience, readers– I’m very grateful for it.

The Time Out New York Fiction Issue

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I have a new short story, “Life Model”, my science fiction debut, out in the Time Out New York Fiction Issue, “Best New Fiction In NYC”, on stands now. I don’t want to say anything else about it except that it was fun to write, and was written out of a prompt for Hyphen Magazine’s Litcrawl NYC event–I was sent a poem by Sally Wen Mao, and asked to write something based on that. She sent her incredible poem the Dreaming Machine, and pretty quickly I understood science fiction was the only direction I could go in. This is what came of it. Thank you to Karissa Chen at Hyphen for organizing that, and to Sally, who is a genius.


The Years of Reading Women


This weekend, I was honored to have an Author’s Note column in the New York Times Sunday Book Review’s special double issue devoted to women writers. The column, “Gender Genre”, is about some of what I learned during a period of almost three years when I stopped reading men, starting when I was 20, and came from thinking about the current crisis we are in, which is the old crisis we have been in for so very long, which is that women are not treated as human.

The idea back then came from a class I briefly describe in the column, Modernity: Gender and War, taught by the late Hope Weissman, one of my very favorite professors. Professor Weissman was a Wife of Bath expert, and also taught Chaucer, which I also took with her–even doing my paper on the Wife of Bath, which is how I discovered her expertise. There was a very grim moment during the writing of my final paper when I understood I would be citing her own work in the presentation of my ideas. The paper went well, but I would say I learned to be careful there.

I know at least a few will imagine that I was being taught the ideas of some kind of radical feminist in the lead-up to the period my column describes, and it may be a way to describe Professor Weissman, but I would say only that we were reading Paul Fussell’s The Great War and Modern Memory. In it, he describes the way the mechanization of war in World War I dismantled the conventions of Western culture, in which men were taught to fight for honor: their honor, the honor of their family, the honor of their country. To do so, they were allowed a kind of license we give to heroes even before they were heroes, as a way to get them to go and be heroes. When war was mechanized, the honor left–both surviving or dying no longer meant what it had, and so this kind of role for men was meaningless. The entire system is still in place, though it has nowhere to go. And so all of the violence it permits also has nowhere to go. Instead, we live with it, or, we try to–a machine that no longer has a purpose, or at least, no longer the purpose it once did, still making boys think they are superhuman–and women, less than human. A conveyor belt full of bright shiny toys that ends in a cement wall. I think we can say, 100 years after that war, the world still has not adapted to what happened then.

I’ll be blogging more later this week about that column and the reading I did then.


The Insincere House

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I have a new story, “The Insincere House”, in the new fall issue of Tin House.

I couldn’t be more excited. The issue features fiction and essays by some favorite writers: Jess Walter, Roxane Gay, Tayari Jones, Alice Sola Kim, Matthew Specktor–it’s amazing. And it has this beautiful cover, too.

Copies are in stores now. For a glimpse of the first page of my story, click the more button.

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