Niven shows an obvious debt to Kingsley and Martin Amis in an enjoyable satire of the film industry, publishing and academiaHollywood scriptwriter Kennedy Marr, once the youngest novelist to feature on a Booker shortlist, is having a quiet night in. It involves whisky, cigars and a laptop, as he ogles footage of “a lesbian duo with a brace of draught-excluder-sized dildoes”, while enjoying a simultaneous Skype call with a girl called Megan who is “providing Kennedy with her own floor show, live from her Brooklyn apartment”. Meanwhile, another literary fan is texting him pictures of herself posing suggestively with … “was that an aubergine?”Our hero works the screens like a one-handed, drunken air traffic controller. No wonder Kennedy feels that “wanking was now at some zenith, some Renaissance peak. Technology was allowing self-abuse to enjoy its Elizabethan drama moment.”Forty-four years old, wildly successful – his tally runs to six novels and one collection of short stories, 5m copies sold, translated into 28 languages – Kennedy has several problems beyond his messy libido. (Masturbation alone, he reckons, has cost him 2.25 unwritten bestsellers.) His mother is dying back in Ireland, his emotional life is a wreck, several directors are screaming for …read more

Via: The Guardian | Books