Old age has crept up on Martin Amis, said Mick Brown in The Daily Telegraph (U.K.). The novelist, famed for his competitive spirit, used to relish putting visitors through their paces on the tennis court. But at age 62, he doesn’t play anymore. “It just got so tragic,” he sighs. “My game was built on mobility; I didn’t have any big shots. It’s more to do with reflexes. The ball’s out of reach, and it fills you with self-disgust.” Nowadays, he can’t even watch soccer on TV, as he can’t operate the latest high-tech remote control. “Pathetic! The technology has moved beyond my competence.” He recently lost his closest friend of 40 years, the journalist Christopher Hitchens; the only friend, he says, with whom he could be “emotionally naked.” In one respect, Hitchens’s death left him better off: It’s a “shameful secret” that “the death of a friend increases your love of life. You treasure the moments on their behalf.” Even so, he reckons he will never come to terms with it. “[Christopher] grappled with the Nietzsche line, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Amis gives a bleak smile. “I always thought that was all balls; what doesn’t kill you makes you weaker, and kills you later on.”
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