What is it about Martin Amis that causes the British literati to shriek and howl and begin sharpening their metaphorical knives? Is it that his famous father is still casting too long a shadow? Or is it Martin’s own predilection for baiting his detractors? Or is it, possibly, simple jealousy for the man’s success, commingled with a passionate intellectual distaste for the vernacular style favored by Amis? In truth, it’s probably a little of each. But whatever the cause, Martin Amis is a hunted man, and he doesn’t seem to mind all that much.