[In the following review, Lida provides an overview of Amis's writings, considering whether the novelist's most recent work is dated.]

Early on in Kingsley Amis' new novel Difficulties with Girls, one character says to another, “The bloody world's moved on without consulting us.” Although he is considered the greatest British comic novelist of his generation, some critics suggest a parallel view: that no matter how brilliant a sentence Amis turns, how trenchant his observations or how deep his skewering of British society, his work is dated, his politics are hopelessly reactionary— he's simply missed the boat.

Has the world moved on without consulting Amis? This is an excellent time to consider the question. After the 1987 American publication of his Booker Prize-winning The Old Devils, a beautiful and sensitive comedy about aging, Summit is also bringing out two reissues of vintage Amis: One Fat Englishman and Girl, 20.

Amis' memorable first novel, Lucky Jim, was published in 1954, when he was 32. The eponymous protagonist is a penniless assistant lecturer in a provincial English university, who hates his pompous professor, is burdened with a hysterical girlfriend, and is less interested in advancing the cause of scholarship than in chasing other women and drinking himself comatose.

The book's portrait of a selfish and snide breed of academic caused many to brand Amis as one of the Angry Young Men, a rebellious set of English writers who blasted the British class structure.

Although he did little to correct this assumption—it was good for sales—it was nonetheless a misapprehension. Less a rebel than a social commentator, his major preoccupation is to pinpoint (and pinprick) the hypocrisy of the prevailing order and to shed light on its darkest corners. However, after nearly 20 novels and several collections of poetry and essays, he has proven to be fairly satisfied with the status quo—or at least uninterested in toppling it.

Amis was born in London 67 years ago to an export agent for Colman's Mustard. At present, he is “one fat Englishman” who, since divorcing his second wife in 1980, has lived with his first wife and her present husband in what he once described as an arrangement out of an Iris Murdoch novel. He claims to lead a sedentary life, stepping out for lunch occasionally, but spending most of his evenings at home reading, watching television or sipping his favorite whiskey. This last occupation is one he reportedly finds thoroughly engaging. His books are loaded with drink, and when asked what he was going to spend his Booker Prize money on, he replied, “Booze, of course.”

Not surprisingly, Amis has become notorious for taking stabs at any and everyone—ethnic groups, the aged or, particularly, women. His females are usually crazy, chronic complainers or downright witches, who are either frigid, sex-mad or both, depending on how manipulative they are. His men tend to fare better; while they may be selfish cads, they redeem themselves with charm and humor.

Among the more sensitive critics, such portrayals have given Amis the reputation of a racist, anti-Semite and sexist. There is an almost “Who's going to get it next?” sense of anticipation that precedes each novel.

Difficulties with Girls is about Patrick Standish, a 37-year-old editor at a publishing house, whose marriage to the beautiful and tender Jenny is threatened by his compulsion to philander. While Patrick may be selfish, Amis has made him more attentive, sympathetic and guilty over his indiscretions than his past heroes. Each time he makes a sexist remark in Jenny's presence, he apologizes, and occasionally even shows her genuine empathy. Though Jenny is perhaps Amis' strongest, most sympathetic female character thus far, some may find her hopelessly out of date. “In her opinion,” Amis writes, “no wife could maintain a full-time job and expect to look after her husband properly.”

The two earlier novels are more standard Amis. Roger Micheldene in One Fat Englishman(1963) is a misanthropic British publisher who is visiting a northeastern U.S. college called Budweiser. He is interested in little but food, drink and willing women. His view of women: “You're all the same,” he says. Girl, 20 (1971) concerns Douglas Yandell, a stuffy, 34-year-old music critic, who is embroiled in the affair of conductor/composer Sir Roy Vandervane and an unspeakably obnoxious 17-year-old. Sir Roy, in his 60s, doesn't much care what other people—including his wife—think and is ready to suffer any consequence for the pleasure of seducing a young girl.

This, the most ambitious of the three books, attempts to portray what Amis perceives as the rubble left in the wake of the political and social permissiveness of the '60s. It is also a barometer for his deep-seated conservatism, which at times makes him sound like one of his own protagonists. “I'm anathema to the young,” he says. “I think it's because I point out so many unpalatable things. It's awkward to tell the truth.”

Charges of racism and sexism are more complex. Amis' patronizing views of homosexuals, blacks and the Irish are probably less slurs than jabs at the complacency of his class and generation. (They also satisfy his penchant for the quick, cheap joke.) Like many British novelists, Amis feels there is a larger story behind his comedies of manners. As for his sexism, he once admitted that “for years … any female contact that did not end in sex was a letdown.” Still, there is no doubt that besides good looks and sympathetic natures, the most well-rounded of his female characters hold a certain moral superiority over men.

Has the world moved on without consulting Amis? The answer is a qualified yes—the same way it has moved on without consulting P. G. Wodehouse, one of Amis' most brilliant forebears. It is impossible to read Wodehouse today without wincing at his political complacency; nevertheless, he is as enjoyable as ever. So is Amis. If the world has moved on, it is just a matter of time until it catches up with him again.