Welcome to Bookmarker!

This is a personal project by @dellsystem. I built this to help me retain information from the books I'm reading.

Source code on GitHub (MIT license).

143

Twenty-five of eleven: the Low

1
terms
1
notes

Amis, M. (1973). Twenty-five of eleven: the Low. In Amis, M. The Rachel Papers. Alfred A. Knopf, pp. 143-150

(adjective) lacking nutritive value / devoid of significance or interest; dull / naive, simplistic, and superficial

145

I clocked up the jejune libidos of Shelley and Keats, and took Hardy's Befuddled Will into account

—p.145 by Martin Amis
notable
1 year, 4 months ago

I clocked up the jejune libidos of Shelley and Keats, and took Hardy's Befuddled Will into account

—p.145 by Martin Amis
notable
1 year, 4 months ago
146

To pay back Norman (prick-fees and gambling debts), I even got a job, not on the railroad, but licking plates in a Shepherd's Bush restaurant, just for a week, in the evenings, quid a night. The restaurant was such an immobile concern that all I really did was sit smoking fags in the well-equipped kitchen and listen to the grumbles of Joe, the cook. Joe, a young and ambitious cook, was fed up to the teeth with cooking steak and chips for the odd Pakki, would far rather have been cooking exotic dishes in a flash restaurant. Accordingly, when people ordered steak and chips, and soup, Joe tended to hawk in it, to show his contempt for such an unimaginative choice, and also because he had heard that flash cooks always hawked in the soup if given the chance. I washed up after him.

On my last night, we had only one order: steak and chips, and soup. After mature consideration, Joe offered to let me hawk in it, as a treat. I did so, with enthusiasm.

Joe looked at it and looked at me. 'We can't give them that,' he said.

—p.146 by Martin Amis 1 year, 4 months ago

To pay back Norman (prick-fees and gambling debts), I even got a job, not on the railroad, but licking plates in a Shepherd's Bush restaurant, just for a week, in the evenings, quid a night. The restaurant was such an immobile concern that all I really did was sit smoking fags in the well-equipped kitchen and listen to the grumbles of Joe, the cook. Joe, a young and ambitious cook, was fed up to the teeth with cooking steak and chips for the odd Pakki, would far rather have been cooking exotic dishes in a flash restaurant. Accordingly, when people ordered steak and chips, and soup, Joe tended to hawk in it, to show his contempt for such an unimaginative choice, and also because he had heard that flash cooks always hawked in the soup if given the chance. I washed up after him.

On my last night, we had only one order: steak and chips, and soup. After mature consideration, Joe offered to let me hawk in it, as a treat. I did so, with enthusiasm.

Joe looked at it and looked at me. 'We can't give them that,' he said.

—p.146 by Martin Amis 1 year, 4 months ago