Ian McEwan’s symphonic novel of love and war, childhood and class, guilt and forgiveness provides all the satisfaction of a brilliant narrative and the provocation we have come to expect from this master of English prose.
On a hot summer day in 1935, thirteen-year-old Briony Tallis witnesses a moment’s flirtation between her older sister, Cecilia, ...moreNational Bestseller
Ian McEwan’s symphonic novel of love and war, childhood and class, guilt and forgiveness provides all the satisfaction of a brilliant narrative and the provocation we have come to expect from this master of English prose.
On a hot summer day in 1935, thirteen-year-old Briony Tallis witnesses a moment’s flirtation between her older sister, Cecilia, and Robbie Turner, the son of a servant and Cecilia’s childhood friend. But Briony’ s incomplete grasp of adult motives–together with her precocious literary gifts–brings about a crime that will change all their lives. As it follows that crime’s repercussions through the chaos and carnage of World War II and into the close of the twentieth century, Atonement engages the reader on every conceivable level, with an ease and authority that mark it as a genuine masterpiece.(less)
Paperback, 351 pages
Published
November 6th 2007
by Anchor
(first published September 20th 2001)
It's like To Kill A Mockingbird. Only, instead of a flawed but relatable protagonist, we have a protagonist vilified beyond all reason. Instead of a persecuted minority, we have a horny young man. And instead of Atticus Finch, we have...Ian McEwan.
I get it. We're only human. I admire an author who can make me sympathize with a flawed character. But contemporary writing, all too often, isn't about sympathizing with people. It's about "exposing" them, --even innocent children...moreIt's like To Kill A Mockingbird. Only, instead of a flawed but relatable protagonist, we have a protagonist vilified beyond all reason. Instead of a persecuted minority, we have a horny young man. And instead of Atticus Finch, we have...Ian McEwan.
I get it. We're only human. I admire an author who can make me sympathize with a flawed character. But contemporary writing, all too often, isn't about sympathizing with people. It's about "exposing" them, --even innocent children. The thinking, I suppose, is that only through cynicism can one get at the truth of the matter. I disagree.
The "sinner" here is young Briony. And her sin is pride. We see her exposed to sexist and obscene language, violent sex, and a rape --all in one day! And why did she she make such a fuss? Well, according to McEwan, it's because she's EVIL.
He went out of his way to make everything the girl did seem somehow insidious. And because she's just an ordinary little girl, this required an elaborate series of clumsy and improbable coincidences. Which brings me to the "romance" between Robbie and Cecilia.
It seems to me, both characters are outlandishly inappropriate. (It's inappropriate to strip in broad daylight, write letters about a woman's "cunt," or have sex in the family room while family is visiting.) But are Robbie and Cecilia culpable? No, McEwan can't even risk the suggestion. It would complicate his simplistic and reactive world view.
You see, Robbie and Cecilia's sin is lust, the one (and only) sin that must always be defended in literature, the sin McEwan is (apparently) most defensive about. Indeed, no fictional character has been this wronged by the moral majority since Jude (the Obscure). But even Thomas Hardy had the presence of mind not to shrilly condemn young girls! McEwan undermined his point in overstating it.
One gets the distinct impression that McEwan has projected his own narcissism and guilt onto one character (the accuser) and his actual misdeeds onto another (the "unjustly" persecuted). Because his aims are self-indulgent, he doesn't accomplish much beyond this smug reversal. It never quite makes for a cohesive whole.
In a foreshadowing of later events, everyone fusses over a cousin who says she has been badly bruised by her two brothers. When the unjustly maligned little boys run away, it's predicted that the little drama queen will somehow find a way to regain the spotlight. She does...in getting raped. We never learn her thoughts or feelings about this incident, and her rapist is given a nebulous presence, at best, in the novel. Throughout the story, the victim is portrayed as a snob. She's so snobby, in fact, that she marries her rapist in name of monogamy (or something). Significantly, Cecilia too is portrayed as a snob...until she puts out.
To summarize:
The rape victim deserved it.
Briony is the sort of uppity prig who accuses "good" men like Ian McEwan Robbie of being bad men.
Cecilia just needed a good f...
It's a shame, because the prose, itself, is good. The premise had a lot of potential for nuance and ambiguity. But McEwan forgoes any subtlety in his tireless crusade against...little girls.
He compounds the obnoxiousness by having Briony grow up to be an author, just so she can compose this very story and McEwan can covertly praise his own writing, so reminiscent of Woolf (in his opinion). (Um, no, Ian. Woolf was a good writer.)
Oh, also: War is bad. I make that an aside, because the actual causes, ramifications, and atrocities of war are clearly less important to McEwan than his own pen and man meat. But it's war that truly makes a man of you. If only I were a man and could understand the "real" world!...instead of writing fairy stories...playing with my miniatures...and stripping for the neighbor boys all day.
I give Ian one star...and the world's smallest violin.(less)
Kate RiceSounds like this thread has been beaten to death, but just wanted to thank you for the review. Definitely thought-provoking. I think Ian McEwan writes...moreSounds like this thread has been beaten to death, but just wanted to thank you for the review. Definitely thought-provoking. I think Ian McEwan writes beautifully, but your comments make me want to read this again.(less)
Jan 24, 2012 03:56pm
SarahThank you, Kate. I appreciate that.
Jan 24, 2012 04:26pm
In World War II England, 13-year-old Briony Tallis misinterprets her older sister’s love affair with their family’s gardener to be something much worse than what it is. Her innocence and partial understanding of the world begins a chain of events that tears the family apart and alters the course of the rest of the girl’s life.
Sounds a little dry, right? Wrong! I guess I forgot to mention that the book was written by Ian McEwan, the king of uncomfortable moments, weird sex stuff, the ...moreIn World War II England, 13-year-old Briony Tallis misinterprets her older sister’s love affair with their family’s gardener to be something much worse than what it is. Her innocence and partial understanding of the world begins a chain of events that tears the family apart and alters the course of the rest of the girl’s life.
Sounds a little dry, right? Wrong! I guess I forgot to mention that the book was written by Ian McEwan, the king of uncomfortable moments, weird sex stuff, the rotating third-person close perspective, and - I’ll say it! - writing about the human psyche. While I’ve found some of his earlier books to be a little too uncomfortable (or, rather, too uncomfortable without good reason) or a little too sexually deviant (again, in the way that it seemed for shock value than with a reason), this was a freaking great book.
I think the one thing that makes this book so wonderful is McEwan’s eerily accurate understanding of how a 13-year-old girl’s mind works - her understanding of the world and her emotional reaction to it. Briony is trapped between childhood and adulthood. She’s old enough to recognize the dark and startling behind-the-scenes facets of her proper British family’s life, but not old enough to properly analyze or judge them. She’s old enough to impose her will and her ideas on others, but not wise enough to know when to act or when to question herself. It’s a frustrating and fascination (and uncomfortable) time, and he has it down pat.
McEwan also experiments with structure in ways that are truly innovative and new without being gimmicky. Briony is an aspiring writer who grows and develops her style throughout the 60 years that the novel covers, and McEwan’s novel mirrors her literary growth. Part One of the story is extremely traditional (broken into chapters, with a clear rotation of perspectives and a uniform chronology). Parts Two and Three are much more modern - the story, which switches gears to follow the gardener into WWII France and Briony to her experiences as a nurse in London, loses structure and fluidity and uses more modern storytelling techniques. Finally, the last section is utterly contemporary - the story becomes even more abstract, with unreliable narrators and more conceptual writing favored over simple narrative.
And yet these games with structure and story and perspective in no way take your focus from the story and the characters. Instead, they add to the experience of watching the main character grow and develop.
If the book suffers from anything, it might be a little slow in some places and move too fast in others. Since McEwan tends to be very thorough when it comes to interior thought, the story often slows down a bit more than it should so that he can explain how every single person felt about a certain moment in time (although the story spans 60 years, the first 200 pages span a single afternoon and evening). The slow story a necessary evil, though, if we want to keep the detailed character studies in place. And we do. And the action-filled second half of the book, which covers the British retreat from the Germans in 1940 and the over-capacity army hospitals of London, makes up for the sometimes austere and rigorous first half. It just takes a while to get the story rolling.
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AminaYou covered the story beautifully. This review is amazing.
Dec 19, 2010 02:12pm
CassI really enjoyed your review, although I disagree with the innocence of the daughter. I am only part way through the book (and slightly bored) but she...moreI really enjoyed your review, although I disagree with the innocence of the daughter. I am only part way through the book (and slightly bored) but she seems a vindictive bitch.(less)
Feb 22, 2011 06:48pm
This is where a 2.5 star rating would be ideal. I am extremely ambivalent about this novel--first the pluses: the writing is gorgeous; McEwan has some of the best prose out there. Every line has meat to it, nothing is throwaway, and every visual is so vivid that the reader is transported to a specific time and place. Secondly, (what everyone praises the novel for), the commentary McEwan is making about the novel itself--the fact that it is written, that characters and plots are manipulated by th...moreThis is where a 2.5 star rating would be ideal. I am extremely ambivalent about this novel--first the pluses: the writing is gorgeous; McEwan has some of the best prose out there. Every line has meat to it, nothing is throwaway, and every visual is so vivid that the reader is transported to a specific time and place. Secondly, (what everyone praises the novel for), the commentary McEwan is making about the novel itself--the fact that it is written, that characters and plots are manipulated by the author, and how a real character emerges (eventually) while at the same a written story exists too. This is very difficult to write about without revealing anything about the plot, but as one reads the novel, it becomes clear what McEwan is trying to do. Finally, the references to other literature (including some of the best novels--Clarissa, Lolita--and novelists--Elizabeth Bowen is directly mentioned, Henry Green and Virginia Woolf are obvious influences) is fluid, never forced, and is done to showcase a love of literature.
At the same time, there are downsides to McEwan's endeavor--how to write a novel that is commenting on its obvious falsity (its construction as fiction), while at the same time trying to convey reality. This is perhaps an impossible task, and I'm left with the nagging feeling that the novel wants to have its cake and eat it too. The characters and situations are so obviously phony that it becomes distracting in the first part of the story. I was drawn in by the fantastic writing, but then found myself wanting to hurl the novel across the room at some of the ridiculous choices by both the characters and the novelist. Namely: 1) The main plot twist makes little realistic sense. Absolutely zero would fly in a mystery novel let alone real life; 2) The characters in the first part are boring aristocrats who we don't care about (check out a Henry Green novel; except in his novels, the reader continues to laugh at them, there is no attempt at emotional attachment); 3) The 'mystery's' solution is obvious to the reader before the crime even happens; 4) Briony (part 1) is an insufferable narrator (as kid narrators, To Kill a Mockingbird excluded, so often are); 5) The novelist's choice to name a sexually, precocious teenager 'Lola' (too obvious a reference). But these choices are meant to be ridiculous--reality is only supposed to set in in the epilogue. At the same time, I marveled at how real parts 2 (Robbie at war) and 3 (Briony as a nurse--some of the hospital scenes are the best I've ever read) seemed to be. Then the question became for me--if they seemed real because of the way the scenes were written (the gore again in the hospital), but could not have been real because the characters and overall plot of the Tallis family are so fake, isn't that cheating? I haven't reached a conclusion yet, but something is still bugging me about the conception of it. Ultimately I prefer novels that go the opposite route--Paul Auster's Oracle Night for example--that start out real and quickly become fake, or throw out the idea of a realistic, consistent plot entirely (only in the conclusion does David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas come together), rather than the never-ending 'is it real? is it fake?' push-and-pull of Atonement. (less)
Emily ElizabethI agree that McEwan's prose is gorgeous. He is a brilliant writer. However, I did not feel a push and pull at all. The novel is about the mind of an...moreI agree that McEwan's prose is gorgeous. He is a brilliant writer. However, I did not feel a push and pull at all. The novel is about the mind of an author and nothing more. It is about the power an author posesses to be a God-like figure in the worlds which they create. It does not matter if any of the story was "real." This novel sheds light on the lives we create in our minds when we invent wild fantasies shared with no one else, and how only writers can truly share those fantasies with the world. The book is about writing, therefore beautiful writing was required to make it a success. Recall when Briony recieves a letter from the magazine to which she submitted her novella. Her Two Figures By a Fountain lacked "backbone." Atonement's plot does not have much of a backbone itself. In Part One, Briony, as the author, has not matured yet. Parts Two and Three are increasingly realistic because McEwan's novel in its entirety is about Briony's journey as a writer, so it only makes sense that the novel improves as it moves along. Also recall how the novel ends--a production of her juvenile creation The Trials of Arabella. Atonement is not about Cecelia or Robbie or any other character. It is a journey through the mind of a writer, struggling to find her voice. (less)
updated
Nov 29, 2009 10:36am
Frank Shannthe more you read, the more you realise he is a pretentious writer who adds words like onomatopoeia, not because they add to the writing, but because ...morethe more you read, the more you realise he is a pretentious writer who adds words like onomatopoeia, not because they add to the writing, but because he just learnt it from a word a day on dictionary.com(less)
Sep 21, 2011 07:30pm
That I can remember, I've never before disliked the start of a book so thoroughly, and by the end, gone on to think so much of it as a complete work.
The last 2/3 of this novel are as good as contemporary fiction gets. The first 1/3 is like reading a Jane Austen plot trapped in amber.
As the title indicates Atonement is about a future artist's massive effort to redeem herself for ruining the character of a young man when she is a younger girl. There are parts of this nove...moreThat I can remember, I've never before disliked the start of a book so thoroughly, and by the end, gone on to think so much of it as a complete work.
The last 2/3 of this novel are as good as contemporary fiction gets. The first 1/3 is like reading a Jane Austen plot trapped in amber.
As the title indicates Atonement is about a future artist's massive effort to redeem herself for ruining the character of a young man when she is a younger girl. There are parts of this novel that are disjointed - or if they aren't they appear so because the opening act moves so slowly that one is barely conscious and later unable to recall that anything much happened at all.
Halfway through this novel, when its greatness starts to happen, a reader almost laments his earlier opinions of it. But whose fault is that? The beginning is such an act of endurance that the later parts make a reader wish that McEwan had moved things more quickly in the beginning - and used those words for more character development in the middle - so the reader could declare this novel, unequivocally, one of the five best novels he's ever read.
McEwan is at the top of the art form throughout, though, whatever a reader opines of the product. He knows what he's doing every step of the way, right down to an allusion to the disjointed narrative methods employed by Virginia Woolf.
The ending is brilliant, unexpected and harsh. But unlike the case of the returning Baxter character in the third act of Saturday, this ending is consistent and at once surprising and inevitable.
After a person has read a few hundred novels, he grasps the art form well enough to know when an author is writing - usually it's when the author's employing some top-heavy descriptive technique that makes the water droplets gathered on a rose petal somehow more important than the protagonist's motives for anything she's done to that point - and it fairly well cries out, "Look at me, my creator is a writer!"
Knowing when an author is writing means knowing that if there's a surprise coming, it's either going to be predicted about 50 pages out or done in such fantastically poor form that its inconsistency mars the rest of the work.
McEwan is fine enough at his craft that the ending is both unanticipated and perfectly consistent. That alone makes this novel excellent.(less)
DevinI agree with most of what you wrote.. except that the part 1 was boring. Part 1 was my favorite part of the entire novel!
Aug 31, 2010 06:38am
TanyaI put the book down for 2 years after reading first and second chapter. Like you, I thoroughly enjoyed it in the end - by half way through I could no...moreI put the book down for 2 years after reading first and second chapter. Like you, I thoroughly enjoyed it in the end - by half way through I could not put it down.(less)
Feb 13, 2011 01:40am
Having recently seen and loved the magnificent film adaptation, I decided to reread Atonement, which quite impressed me when it was first published. And guess what? It was an even more rewarding experience the second time around. Knowing what was coming -- knowing the plot twist at the end -- helped me focus on the quality of the writing rather than on the development of the story, and as always, McEwan's prose completely sucked me in. He is, quite simply, one of the most talented authors alive,...moreHaving recently seen and loved the magnificent film adaptation, I decided to reread Atonement, which quite impressed me when it was first published. And guess what? It was an even more rewarding experience the second time around. Knowing what was coming -- knowing the plot twist at the end -- helped me focus on the quality of the writing rather than on the development of the story, and as always, McEwan's prose completely sucked me in. He is, quite simply, one of the most talented authors alive, and he uses his gift to great effect here.
I'm not really going to go into the plot here, because the less the first-time reader knows about the book, the better. Suffice it to say that it is about an imaginative thirteen-year-old who witnesses a few things she doesn't understand, draws the wrong conclusions and ends up ruining the lives of two people near and dear to her. The first half of the book deals with the event itself and the hours leading up to it; the second half deals with her attempts to, well, deal with it -- atone for it, so to speak.
As always, McEwan excels at setting the scene. His description of a hot summer afternoon in a 1935 English country house is lush and sumptuous, his evocation of a young soldier's struggle to reach home after the disastrous 1940 battle of Dunkirk is haunting, and his look into the horrors of a war-time London hospital is gruesome in all its detail. Amazingly, McEwan manages to find beauty even in the most horrific scenes, which is one of the things which set him apart as a writer. As usual, though, it's the psychological stuff that is really outstanding. McEwan has a knack for taking his readers deep into his characters' minds, letting them share their most intimate, most uncomfortable thoughts and feelings. Sometimes these thoughts are a little disturbing (those of you who have read his earlier works will know what I mean), but usually they have the effect of completely drawing the reader into the story. The latter is definitely the case in Atonement. By presenting the story from different perspectives and vantage points, McEwan provides the reader with a complete and engrossing view of a life-changing event and its aftermath. All the different perspectives ring true, and together they tell a marvellous tale of perception, loyalty, anger, secrets, lost love, shame, guilt, obsession with the past and -- yes -- atonement. And about writing, for more than anything else, Atonement is about the difference between fiction and reality, the power of the imagination and the human urge to write and rewrite history -- to write destiny and play God.
I've heard quite a few people say that they found the first half of the novel too slow and ponderous, wondering why McEwan felt the need to devote nearly two hundred pages to the events of a single day. Personally, I found that part of the book to be utterly brilliant in its rich, Woolf-like glory. As far as I'm concerned, the atmosphere of the first half is superbly drawn, with each character down to the most minor one being well realised and the tensions and suspense at work almost being made tangible. For me, it is the second half of the book which has problems (albeit minor ones), in that I found the jumps in time and perspective jarring and the (otherwise fascinating) chapter about Robbie's adventures in France somewhat unreal. Of course, there are good reasons for the slightly unreal quality of the Dunkirk chapter (which the film captured just brilliantly), but still, it didn't quite work for me; it felt a bit out of place. Thankfully, though, the rest of the book worked just wonderfully for me. Like other McEwan books, it left me with a haunting question -- 'What if...?'
As for McEwan's impressive insight into the mind of a thirteen-year-old girl, which other reviewers have called scary, I think that has everything to do with Briony's being a writer. She is hardly your average thirteen-year-old (I think even McEwan would have a hard time coming up with one of those!); rather she is a writer (a good one), and that, of course, is something McEwan knows all about. As a fellow writer, I greatly enjoyed seeing the world through Briony's eyes, and hope her author will live to her old age and write as many good books as he has her doing.
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I feel that perhaps I have sabotaged this book somewhat as I read it directly after finishing Love In the Time of Cholera, and perhaps in retrospect should have read a poetry book or some non-fiction in between. Clearly anything I would have read after finishing a Masterpiece would pale in comparison but I decided that the critical raves this book had received and high praise from people around me should be enough to encourage me to see it through to the end.
Here is why I found this ...moreI feel that perhaps I have sabotaged this book somewhat as I read it directly after finishing Love In the Time of Cholera, and perhaps in retrospect should have read a poetry book or some non-fiction in between. Clearly anything I would have read after finishing a Masterpiece would pale in comparison but I decided that the critical raves this book had received and high praise from people around me should be enough to encourage me to see it through to the end.
Here is why I found this book lacking without giving too much actual plot away to those who would want to read it themselves.
I found all of the characters completely devoid of any true personality or any reason I should care or feel connected to them. The details described in the book do a lot for physical surroundings but we know nothing of Cecila except she went to college and chain smokes, so I don't particularly care about anything that happens to her, besides the fact that much of her life is lived outside what information the book provides. Briony is a terrible child, a narcissistic teenager, and and at last a harmless grandmother who I don't especially care about at any of these three points in her life. The only character with the least bit of humanity seems to be Robbie who is still somewhat confined to his role as the "victim". All the lovely descriptions of ponds and hospital wards and French war-torn villages could not make up for the fact that none of these characters were the slightest bit interesting to me or seemed to connect to anything. They simply floated through long locational descriptions being powerless to the world around them and unfortunately for me I didn't need 350 pages to get that point. It could have easily been accomplished as a short story or novella. I just kept feeling that the book had all this great detail but didn't focus it on anything that it shoud have.
I know this may sound exceedingly harsh and once again I do chalk some of this up to reading Atonement directly after a much better novel it had no hope in eclipsing or even paralleling in its structure but I also know how quickly and easily I fall in love with characters. How quickly I can get pulled into a good story and I sincerely feel that although I wouldn't call this book a complete waste, that my time would have been much better spent elsewhere.(less)
**WARNING: Don't read this if you don't want the ending spoiled!**
This book...I hate it! It's beautiful, every word of it is gorgeous, but it's as if the author spends all this time painstakingly crafting a really detailed, intricate vessel for you (I'm thinking of a boat :))and then just before your journey's over he snatches it out from under you & you sink. Why go to such lengths describing the lovers, and the war, and Briony & the nursing when in the end none of it even matters...more**WARNING: Don't read this if you don't want the ending spoiled!**
This book...I hate it! It's beautiful, every word of it is gorgeous, but it's as if the author spends all this time painstakingly crafting a really detailed, intricate vessel for you (I'm thinking of a boat :))and then just before your journey's over he snatches it out from under you & you sink. Why go to such lengths describing the lovers, and the war, and Briony & the nursing when in the end none of it even matters? The problem with Atonement is that there is no atonement, which, of course, is the point. This book was described to me as 'haunting' and it definitely is- haunting & depressing. A story doesn't have to have a happy ending to be good, I mean, this is a great book, really, but I felt really empty & hollow when it was over. The part at the end when the author says that the story is the only part that matters b/c no one will ever remember the real people or the actual events anyway was crushing! It's true, I know, and I don't really have a problem w/ realism...but I have a big problem with death. It freaks me out. I have a really unhealthy fear of it. Especially unjust death. It just pisses me off more than I can explain. Maybe I've just been feeling too poetic lately, listening to too much sensitive-artist music, but I can't stand that Briony kills 2 people and then just conjures them back up from the dead as if it never happened and no one else even mentions it. It makes me think too much about actual events, politics, & things. I don't want to run out of time, I have things I want to do here, and I don't want to be reminded that the truth is it doesn't matter whether I run out of time or not because eventually there isn't going to be anyone left who ever knew me, or my family, or anyone we ever knew. Ugh. I'm making myself sick w/ this. I'm told the movie is really good b/c it's beautiful w/out being quite as harsh at the end. I think I need to see it so I can stop thinking about the book. It's waking me up at night, or rather it's waking me up in the morning realizing that I've been thinking about it all night. I hate it, but it really is good.(less)
This is the first book I've read by this guy, and I really enjoyed it. You know who I'd recommend this book to, but I don't think it'd fit in that little box up there? Okay, you know how sometimes you're craving a certain kind of musical style, like sixties soul, say, or classic British punk, but you don't actually want to listen to old music, you want to listen to something that's, like, of the now? There're a few (okay, not many) bands out there that don't just do hollow retro imitations, but ...moreThis is the first book I've read by this guy, and I really enjoyed it. You know who I'd recommend this book to, but I don't think it'd fit in that little box up there? Okay, you know how sometimes you're craving a certain kind of musical style, like sixties soul, say, or classic British punk, but you don't actually want to listen to old music, you want to listen to something that's, like, of the now? There're a few (okay, not many) bands out there that don't just do hollow retro imitations, but sort of take what they love from the classics, and somehow make that new and fresh and appropriate to our time. I'd say this book is like that: it's the perfect thing if you're after an exquisitely written modernist novel, only you don't actually want to get into the musty old canon, and would like something new. Honestly, I think this actually works better with fiction than with music.... In any case, this guy can sure put together a sentence, let me tell you! Beautiful, beautiful sentences. They made me a little ashamed of myself. Actually, they made me a lot ashamed, but I was enjoying it so much that I didn't feel bad.
I'm a little hesitant about putting this in my book report, because I really do recommend this book and I'd like you to read it, but I have to say that I did find the last chapter hugely disappointing. It did have one instant where it went a ways toward redeeming itself at the end, but on the whole it was kind of like.... I don't know. It didn't ruin the book or anything, but it made me feel like Ian McEwan might be something slightly less than the incredible, sublime sentence-crafting god I'd been picturing him as. I mean, I guess he looks pretty ordinary on the back photo, which should have been a tip-off. Isn't there some culture's artistic tradition that's like that, where they purposely don't finish or add imperfections in their statues, to remind humanity that nothing we make can all that great? Well, the little coda at the end of _Atonement_ kind of hit me like that. To be sure, the author is extremely talented... but he is mortal, like the rest of us.
Yeah, the ending is dumb alright.
Worse than dumb, it's poorly executed. I understand why he felt he needed it, and the impulse was a good one. However, its function should have been accomplished with the grace and style all previous chapters had, and in my opinion it wasn't. It was just off, to me: like a great restaurant with mediocre desserts.
Anyway, it was still a great book. I'm curious if other people agree with me about this, or if I just sound cranky. I was just looking at other Bookster reviews, and everyone else seems to be like, "I didn't really take to this book until I got to the fabulous ending!" So obviously there's no accounting for (everyone else's) taste.(less)
InesLike the two people before me, I completely agree with you about the ending. It is the last thing I was anticipating, and, sadly, I found it seriously...moreLike the two people before me, I completely agree with you about the ending. It is the last thing I was anticipating, and, sadly, I found it seriously lacking. It just detracts from the book.(less)
Jun 17, 2009 02:44pm
MannyI don't agree at all about the ending, but a great review all the same!
Dec 22, 2011 01:54am
"More than a little reminiscent of Woolf in its converging and diverging viewpoints, its serious concern with the portrayal of social and interior life... and of course the dinner-party scene. That part, I loved. I wasn't as keen on the latter third or so of Part One (too much prolepsis is nobody's friend), and Part Two thus far is slow going--which is surprising, as it's the WWII part! But it's early yet."
Despite being a ...moreWhen I'd just finished Part I, I wrote this:
"More than a little reminiscent of Woolf in its converging and diverging viewpoints, its serious concern with the portrayal of social and interior life... and of course the dinner-party scene. That part, I loved. I wasn't as keen on the latter third or so of Part One (too much prolepsis is nobody's friend), and Part Two thus far is slow going--which is surprising, as it's the WWII part! But it's early yet."
Despite being a perfectly good portrayal of men at war and of a dramatic historical moment (the evacuation from Dunkirk) that's mostly overlooked by historical fiction, Part Two never did manage to impress me. Mostly, I think we weren't given enough emotional insight into Robbie in Part One, so being dropped into war-torn Europe with him in Part Two was no more than abstractly affecting. I also couldn't tell how much of the "mystery" from Part One was supposed to be telegraphed, but there were no surprises for me in the final revelations.
That said, I loved the Tallis women, and was particularly impressed by McEwan's insights into what it means to be a woman; see Briony's wry observation in the closing section about the veteran colonel who resents the feminine presumption of writing about war. Overall, Part Three was by far the most compelling as a narrative, and after a lot of vacillating, I was finally sold on the book by the final section, where all its slightly precious metafictive devices were finally justified. For some reason, McEwan writing about Briony writing about Briony learning to write (i.e., her insight while watching the fountain scene) just felt self-indulgent. But when the last level settled into place--McEwan writing about Briony writing about Briony writing about Briony learning to write--I got interested in what he was saying. I don't know how that works.
Moreover, what could have felt pat and cynical in that final section (the author's deceptions and conflations, the rewritten happy ending, the dreaded first-person flash-forward to The Present) was actually quite moving and smart.
Also, this passage was fabulous:
The problem these fifty-nine years has been this: how can a novelist achieve atonement when, with her absolute power of deciding outcomes, she is also God? There is no one, no entity or higher form that she can appeal to, or be reconciled with, or that can forgive her. There is nothing outside her. In her imagination she has set the limits and the terms. No atonement for God, or novelists, even if they are atheists. It was always an impossible task, and that was precisely the point. The attempt was all.
(The little echo of Hamlet in "The attempt was all" didn't hurt either.)(less)
My 3rd book by Ian McEwan and he still did not disappoint. Rather, he continued to baffle me and keep me in awe while reading his prose. Simply excellent.
Many times, I hesitated picking up this book. The reason: I saw its movie adaptation a few years back and I knew the plot. However, one of my Goodreads friends was right: I still enjoyed the book primarily for the portions that I thought I did not see in the movie like that garden scene where 10-y/o Briony Tallis told their gardener...moreMy 3rd book by Ian McEwan and he still did not disappoint. Rather, he continued to baffle me and keep me in awe while reading his prose. Simply excellent.
Many times, I hesitated picking up this book. The reason: I saw its movie adaptation a few years back and I knew the plot. However, one of my Goodreads friends was right: I still enjoyed the book primarily for the portions that I thought I did not see in the movie like that garden scene where 10-y/o Briony Tallis told their gardener young man, Robbie Turner that she loved him or the scene when nurse Briony loosened up the bandage on the dying soldier's head which was a mistake as she realized that part of the skull was missing as she could see the white bloody brain. I was also anticipating that the end would be different but it seemed that, in essence, it was the same: the old and gray Briony telling the reader (or the viewer) that the lovers, Robbie and Cecilia Tallis actually died separately during the war. So, the old Briony was writing her novel as an "atonement" for the mistake that she did when she was 13: telling the police that Robbie was the one who raped Lola, her cousin.
Unlike some of my other friends, I did not find the storytelling boring. McEwan's prose is engrossing for its seriousness yet devoid of philosophical musings and insightful quotes. How can a boring writer think of this pivotal line in the story: "In my dreams I kiss your cunt, your sweet we cunt. In my thoughts I make love to you all day long". Pivotal because it was the note that Robbie sent by mistake to Cecilia that was read by Robbie's messanger, the 13-y/o, Briony. Imagine the confusion that that line could create in the imaginative mind of a no-longer-a-child-but-not-yet-an-woman Briony.
Also, McEwan's vivid descriptions for his settings are remarkable. Reading the first part is like being there in the balcony of the big mansion watching Cecilia and Robbie in the fountain while hearing the voices of Lola, Jackson and Pierrot in the background.
I also liked the way the structure of the book having a lengthy first part, a short second part and the dramatic closing in its third. Reminded me of Virginia Woolf's "To The Lighthouse" an equally excellent classic novel. The second part being the transition or bridge between the two parts.
I have copies of almost all of McEwan's novels and I only read 3. I would like to savor each and would not want to consume everything one after the other. I would like to disprove people who say "good things never last." (less)
There are so many angles and perceptions to consider in this book. Sometimes the end can make a book and that is certainly the case here where the story is left open for interpretation. This is a book that leaves you thinking and considering, making up your own conclusions--and strong enough characters to make you want to.
The first few chapters I did find my mind wandering through lengthy descriptions (I'll call it beautiful, poetic scenery), and yet that scenery set a lackadaisical fe...moreThere are so many angles and perceptions to consider in this book. Sometimes the end can make a book and that is certainly the case here where the story is left open for interpretation. This is a book that leaves you thinking and considering, making up your own conclusions--and strong enough characters to make you want to.
The first few chapters I did find my mind wandering through lengthy descriptions (I'll call it beautiful, poetic scenery), and yet that scenery set a lackadaisical feel vital to the innocence and peace of that opening day. It's not just the easy-going feel of pre-war life McEwan was portraying. On a second read, I find a strain, a desire to understand every motive and action. And in those details I find sadness that life never moved on. It was played over and over again trying to find meaning and purpose to each detail. The slowness is painstaking analysis. There is a reason for the meticulous care with which each detail is described and the read well worth the persistence to the end.
Even from the beginning I was intrigued with the story and found the characters compelling. I just loved Briony's capricious character, her innocent yet eloquently advanced mind. I could despise the nosy little sister and sympathize with the fearful inactive girl all in one breath. I could hate Paul's conceit and Lola's pleas for attention and understand the muteness all the same. But mostly I could sympathize and relate to Robbie and Cecilia as likable characters, wanting to add more time to their brief, interrupted interactions. I found myself ever-fearful for the end and therefore could not put the book down.
Spoilers in my analysis to death. <spoilers>Despite Briony's foreshadowing (saying she would rewrite the fountain scene from all perspectives), I did not suspect the end. I expected the separation but not the invention of this whole story. Because of the story in a story format, you can interpret the few authentic scenes anyway you like and not take her word for any of it. That is what I love about the story, particularly on a second read, that I can question motives assigned to characters instead of take it for face value. At one point reading Robbie's thoughts I considered the layers: Ewan writing Briony writing Robbie and paused in awe at McEwan's talent.
Because of the layers, McEwan has the unique opportunity to add insight and symbolism, even study questions as commentary. Take Briony's comment when relieved to see Robbie at Cecilia's that Robbie's death would have been "outlandish, against all odds" and would have made no sense. Or the letter from the editor telling her the story was incomplete: "how might [her misunderstanding:] affect the lives of the two adults?" And while vivid her descriptions of light and shade she should create "light and shade within the narrative itself." To which you can't help but wonder about light and shade in the story and characters. In what other novel can the author analyze his own work and insert his own cues for study?
I was confused at the drastic abbreviation of Robbie's war tour--though I enjoyed considering the shrapnel as a physical expression of his hidden wound. It was so obvious why the section quit there, but I couldn't believe it ended there; I had to hold out hope however thin the thread. I thought Briony's atonement would come as a nurse on duty, and I held my breath waiting for the improbable meeting. Her interaction with the dying French boy showed how much she wanted that redemption from Robbie by consoling and listening to what cannot be fixed. How she longed for closure with him.
I doubt Robbie hated Briony. In her self-deprecation her interpretation is harsh. I think exasperation at a nosy child whom you adore but all of a sudden can't approach because her vivid imagination has turned to fear is sufficient emotion. I liked Robbie enough to think he could have forgiven her. If anything he was the one who was understanding and forgiving while Cecilia was ready to throw out her family to show her commitment to Robbie. I think Cecilia and Robbie were on the verge of forgiving Briony, but Briony could not allow herself to believe so without diminishing her guilt. She states "neither Briony nor the war had destroyed" their love. Even though she says so about her made-up gift of an ending, can't she see some redemptive power for herself, even in the "bleakest realism"?
I was so confused at the unexpected way the reunion scene between Robbie and Celia. It was so implausible and awkward and I wondered how the story had gotten off course and how Robbie had gotten there from France. His reaction was not anything like I expected, that after everything he had been through, he could still hold that much hate for Briony. And yet that was its intention. On a second read, it's one of my favorite parts as she gives us a glimpse of the verbal rebut she so longed for and some of the best layered meanings. I love how her novel sprouted from a desire to amend, but offered as a response to Robbie's invented request: "She knew what was required of her...a new draft, an atonement."
While Briony should take culprit for the loss of several years, she can't for their entire lives, for the years fate and the war stole away. And she can't even take full credit for those years. It was not her "crime" but her interpretation of one that fueled the problem. She spent her life in remorse, letting her decision shape her life and self worth. I think she more than paid her debt for what was a misunderstanding, a mistake, not cruel revenge. She got caught up in her perception and forced facts to fit her assumptions--ones she full-heartedly believed.
It is Lola unwilling to admit her part in the sexual encounter that should be atoning. Paul with his unrepentant spirit that should atone for another man paying for his crime. And even her mother making the improbable leap from inappropriate love letter to assault to break a servant's son connection with her daughter. Surely, she is just as guilty but seems unwillingly to accept her part in losing relationships with both her daughters. Briony is the only one in this story willing to atone for the tragedy. I didn't find her silence at the wedding cowardice: what good would it have served to ruin yet another couple's happiness? Her appearance was sufficient.
I wish Cecilia were more vocal the night they waited for his return. Sure the social class and unacceptable library behavior restrained her, but I wanted passion as proof of her love. Her silence annoyed and confused me as much as Briony's self-righteous witness angered me. But despite her hesitation that night, considering Cecilia's drastic reaction to her family, I want to believe the relationship must have been long-term, more serious. I'd like to think as her atonement Briony was as hard on herself as possible. I want to think that instead of unrequited love there was secret love undiscovered away from home but unable to pass inquisitive eyes. It doesn't atone, but it makes it less severe.
Briony's initial reaction to the fountain scene was that Robbie was proposing marriage. It could be accurate that Briony happened upon a lover's quarrel: Cecilia wanted to keep the relationship hushed from her parents and when Robbie was too personal in broad daylight she snapped. The letter could have been a joke from a guy asking for a moment alone with his girlfriend and in it his hesitance to jump from playful to committed. The story invented, while the most probable, was the most severe option she could conjure up and not the one I wanted to believe. I know I'm grasping at straws, but I want to believe Briony was wrong. The beauty of the story is I can.
The fact that I cared enough about the characters to want that for them, to simmer over it after I closed the book, reluctant to have it end, testifies to the power of the story. Despite my longing, I wouldn't necessarily consider the story of Robbie and Cecilia a complete tragedy. If one had survived to grieve and hate then yes, but to have such intense love (to have "a reason for life" as Cecilia put it) and be reunited after a short time gives their lives meaning and purpose and only makes it tragic for Briony left to regret the consequences of her rash judgment without ever hope of reconciliation. There in lies the tragedy: in a girl's life altered, not in the love story.</spoilers.
Some of my favorite quotes: It wasn't only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you. And only in a story could you enter there different minds and show how they had a equal value. That was the only moral a story need have. The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse. (Robbie of meeting Cecilia) It would be worse, but he still wanted it. he had to have it. He wanted it to be worse. Every now and then quite unintentionally someone taught you something about yourself. (Robbie & Cecilia uttering each other's names) It sounded like a new word--the syllables remained the same, the meaning was different. (Briony on guilt) How quite refined the methods of self-torture, invading the beads of detail into an eternal loop, a rosary to be fingered for a lifetime. Memories--bleached colorless through overuse. With the clarity of passion A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended. She was the sort of girl who lived in her thoughts. It was common enough to see so much death and want a child, common therefore human, and he wanted it all the more. When the wounded were screaming, you dreamed of sharing a little house somewhere, of an ordinary life, a family line, connection. Now was her chance to proclaim in public all the private anguish and purge herself of all that she had done wrong. Before the altar of this most rational of churches. To Briony it appeared her life was gong to be lived in one room without a door. What she felt was more like homesickness though there was no source for it, no home. (less)
Sometimes when I write these reviews, especially when they're of novels with widespread popularity and critical acclaim, I start to feel like a real curmudgeon. Is there anything really wrong with Ian McEwan's “Atonement?” Is it not a compelling story well told? Is the writing not clear, succinct, and free of pretentiousness? Does McEwan not draw the reader into a well-imagined world and hold him there until the last page? The answer to all these questions is yes. Yet still, yet still...
...moreSometimes when I write these reviews, especially when they're of novels with widespread popularity and critical acclaim, I start to feel like a real curmudgeon. Is there anything really wrong with Ian McEwan's “Atonement?” Is it not a compelling story well told? Is the writing not clear, succinct, and free of pretentiousness? Does McEwan not draw the reader into a well-imagined world and hold him there until the last page? The answer to all these questions is yes. Yet still, yet still...
Maybe it's all the acclaim that “Atonement” received when first published and the literary prizes it either won or was shortlisted for, or maybe it's the comparison I'm drawing – unfairly, to be sure – with some of the classic novels I've been reading lately, but I just don't see why McEwan's book has been held up as one of the great works of literary fiction of recent years. (Or maybe everything else from the last several years is that much worse?) My chief problem with “Atonement” is it just never feels fully real, like great novels do. I could never picture Briony, Cecilia, Robbie and the book's other characters existing beyond their words and actions on the page. They never become something more than characters in a novel – never become real living, breathing people, as is the case with truly great works of literature. The whole book just feels far too mannered, too neatly composed, too written.
Spoilers to follow here, so skip the next paragraph if you haven't yet read “Atonement” and plan to.
Does this maybe speak, though, to McEwan's genius? After all, in his nod to the art of metafiction, McEwan makes the novel not really his novel at all, but rather one written by his character Briony Tallis, so that all but the last section of the book, which is told first-person by Briony, becomes a novel within the novel. A defender of the book who accepts everything I've said up until this point might rightfully argue that the novel-within-the-novel's weaknesses speak to the who the character of Briony actually is, and to her shortcomings as a novelist. If that were McEwan's intention, it's kind of a brilliant move: a good novelist purposely writing in an average way because the character actually telling the story is herself an average novelist. OK, but even if I accept this argument – and even though I made the argument myself, I'm not sure it holds water – I still don't want to read an entire novel that's simply average, even if it's intended to be.
Spoilers over.
Getting back to my original point, though, why do I feel the urge to demand that every piece of literature – even one well-loved, and with critical regard – need be as brilliant as one by, say, Nabokov? (Though, to be fair, McEwan is asking for this comparison, as Nabokov mastered the metafiction toyed with in “Atonement” back when McEwan was just a wee lad.) Can't some literary novels just be an enjoyable read without achieving a place in the pantheon of great literature? Isn't there, alongside Nabokov and Bellow, a place for writers such as John Irving and Ian McEwan? (And is that too insulting to McEwan? Too flattering to Irving?) And, finally, have I become, as a reader, too much a curmudgeon?
(less)
Four stars for the exquisite, lush descriptions in Part 1. Astute insight into a variety of characters and their motivations. The details of a single day made me feel I was there. (My frustrations at the ending make it a grudging four stars.)
I read Part 1 with suspense (even trepidation) at every turn, but it was fueled by information on the book's cover--telling me that Briony would accuse Robbie of a crime and it would change their lives forever. (I am not sure how I would have...moreFour stars for the exquisite, lush descriptions in Part 1. Astute insight into a variety of characters and their motivations. The details of a single day made me feel I was there. (My frustrations at the ending make it a grudging four stars.)
I read Part 1 with suspense (even trepidation) at every turn, but it was fueled by information on the book's cover--telling me that Briony would accuse Robbie of a crime and it would change their lives forever. (I am not sure how I would have reacted to this section without that knowledge. This detracts from the book's inherent power, having to rely upon the cover copywriters.) The long descriptions of each moment, with its smells and light, prolonged this delicious agony. Parts 2 & 3 flew by in comparison, with the crime already committed and the days and years described succinctly.
I am especially impressed with McEwan's understanding of how a 13-year-old girl, in her immature, orderly, and righteous ways, would feel revolted, defiled, and betrayed by the idea of blatant adult sexuality. I can believe she would respond as she does, and that she would be unable to distinguish between a maniac and a lover.
Class is a major theme, and who can argue with the classism McEwan portrays? The evil rich prosper and the innocent poor are squashed underfoot. An interlocking theme is freedom--to choose a path and live your life. Of course, there is also loss of innocence ("she was still wearing the filthy white dress").
***SPOILERS BELOW!***
I feel cheated by the revelation in the last pages, of fiction within fiction. If the whole book is Briony's version of the story, it should be first-person. Of course, this is the main theme of this novel--the creator of fiction wields considerable control over others, concealing or changing words at his/her own whim. So I think McEwan wants to piss us off to make his point. Why else "deceive" the reader, then "un-deceive?" He seems to say that readers want a "happy ending," but I'd rather have a tragic one and know it than have "happy" one ripped away from me. Briony creates the false happy ending (the one she wishes had happened) for her own selfish reasons, and perhaps it helps her sleep at night.
The book's title is never achieved for me: Briony cannot atone for her wrong. She wants her novel to be an atonement. She wants her service as a nurse to atone. But, for Robbie and Cecilia, the damage cannot be undone. Briony spends her life having to assuage her conscience through her writing. But she lives a long, prosperous/satisfyingly successful, comfortable life, so I feel her novel is too little, way too late.
What about Briony's experience with the West Indian, lawyer cabbie? You can't tell who's educated nowadays, she says. That should have been true for Robbie in 1935 and she knows it.
Where are the reliable, loyal men among the characters? Not Jack Tallis, absent father who can't even get home in an emergency. Not Leon, who is married four times and can't seem to commit to the profession he studied. Only Robbie is "innocent" (although the consensual fornication he commits with Cecilia in the library would have been a crime in 1935 though it is not to modern readers), and he is accused by the pillars of society. Perhaps the blue-collar men are reliable and loyal--the constable, the servants, the soldiers. They also have to jump when the rich say jump (make a roast on the hottest day of the year, die in the war, etc.).
I'm also not convinced of some plot elements: Wouldn't Cecilia make some argument as to Robbie's innocence--wouldn't it be heard by someone--or is her testimony nullified by her indecent acts in the library, acts I'm not sure are fully revealed? Couldn't she appeal to the sister who wanted to protect her--do they never talk after that night? Would Lola marry Marshall (I can't give 20-year-old Lola the same inability to distinguish between maniac and lover that I can allow in 13-year-old Briony)? Would Marshall seek a legitimate relationship with Lola? How can the lifelong prosperity of the Marshalls, shown by Briony in the final section, have had its beginnings in the violent, hateful acts we witness in 1935 (rape is not an act of sex, it is an act of violence)? Would Jackson and Pierrot be close, life-long family members of Briony, while their sister Lola is estranged from Briony? I feel including Jackson and his descendants in the final birthday party for Briony is a convenient plot element, but not believable.(less)
La nostra storia ha inizio in un caldo pomeriggio d’estate del 1935, nella cornice di una vecchia villa inglese.
In questa giornata afosa e opprimente entriamo nella vita della famiglia Tallis e assistiamo ai preparativi della cena data in onore del ritorno del figlio Leon, e di un suo amico,Paul Marshall. Sembra di assistere ai preparativi di “Mrs Dalloway” di Virgina Woolf, alla stessa maniera, l’incontro si concluderà in maniera dramm...more"Espiazione" -Ian McEwan (2001)
La nostra storia ha inizio in un caldo pomeriggio d’estate del 1935, nella cornice di una vecchia villa inglese.
In questa giornata afosa e opprimente entriamo nella vita della famiglia Tallis e assistiamo ai preparativi della cena data in onore del ritorno del figlio Leon, e di un suo amico,Paul Marshall. Sembra di assistere ai preparativi di “Mrs Dalloway” di Virgina Woolf, alla stessa maniera, l’incontro si concluderà in maniera drammatica.
Briony ha 13 anni, un’ immaginazione sfrenata e una passione per la letteratura. Vede dalla finestra una scena tra sua sorella Cecilia e Robbie, il figlio della cameriera che è cresciuto con loro, legge una lettera di Robbie che non è destinata a lei, coglie di sorpresa Robbie e la sorella in un amplesso in biblioteca e, quando nel buio del giardino vede una figura maschile che si allontana dalla cugina, la sua fervida immaginazione ha già creato una storia dove è lui il colpevole. L’unico problema è che la storia creata non rimarrà solo nella sua testa, ma formulerà accuse reali che la sua ingenua mente di tredicenne non riesce a quantificare.
-Dunque l’hai visto
-So che era lui
-Lascia perdere quello che sai. Stai dicendo che l’hai visto.
- Si l’ho visto.
Si porterà dietro questa colpa per 59 anni, e a niente varrà riscrivere l’intera vicenda sottoforma di romanzo, per poter cosi cambiare il finale ed espiare una colpa che non ha ricevuto perdono nella vita reale. Una scrittura intesa come riparazione?
“Il problema in questi cinquantanove anni è stato un altro: come può una scrittrice espiare le proprie colpe quando il suo potere assoluto di decidere i destini altrui la rende simile a Dio? Non esiste nessuno, nessuna entità superiore a cui possa fare appello, per riconciliarsi, per ottenere il perdono. Non c’è nulla al di fuori di lei. E’ la sua fantasia a sancire i limiti e i termini della storia. Non c’è espiazione per Dio, nè per il romanziere, nemmeno se fossero atei.”
Bellissime le pagine della guerra, in cui ogni colpa viene azzerata perché è impossibile distinguere chi è colpevole e chi innocente, bellissime e catartiche le pagine di Briony in ospedale, quando da infermiera tirocinante cura i soldati di ritorno dalla Francia, e bellissime le pagine in cui Briony, ormai famosa scrittrice, si chiede se sia possibile l’espiazione per chi, come lei, ha l’arbitrio di cambiare la vita e il destino dei suoi personaggi, modificando la storia, scrivendo un finale felice dove invece c’è stata solo tragedia.
“Espiazione” è stato un libro penetrante e sconvolgente, amaro e dolce, commovente fino all’ultima pagina dove un finale spiazzante mi ha fatto versare qualche lacrima.
Non riesco a dire altro, solo: LEGGETELO.
"Gli amanti sopravvivono felici. Finchè resterà anche una sola copia, un unico dattiloscritto della mia stesura finale…sopravviveranno per amarsi” (less)
I am really frustrated with myself that I can't bring myself to like this novel. The passage from Northanger Abbey that precedes it was promising; anything referencing Jane Austen should be worth reading. However, despite the fact that his style is interesting, that every sentence attempts to make an impact, I feel as if it is trying too hard. A comparison to Austen's writing style is ridiculous, because even though McEwen attempts the same focus on a brilliant turn of the phrase, his style in n...moreI am really frustrated with myself that I can't bring myself to like this novel. The passage from Northanger Abbey that precedes it was promising; anything referencing Jane Austen should be worth reading. However, despite the fact that his style is interesting, that every sentence attempts to make an impact, I feel as if it is trying too hard. A comparison to Austen's writing style is ridiculous, because even though McEwen attempts the same focus on a brilliant turn of the phrase, his style in no way comes close to Austen's clarity.
I also found the plot to be faulty. Yes, his detailed description of one afternoon if for the most part gripping, but what happens before and after is lacking. I want to believe that Cecilia and Robbie are in love, but there's not enough there to substantiate that. The description of their secretive letter-writing seems to serve as an indication of their close relationship, but I find it hard to believe that the almost racy yet purposeless Cecilia (as she is characterized in the first half), who was planning on staying at her parents' home all summer because she didn't know what else to do, now has purpose, drive, and patience to wait for Robbie like a good housewife. I can't reconcile her earlier flightiness with her later responsibility.
Another issue is the novel's lack of focus. Is the point the consequences of a child's mistake? Or is the point the unfortunate results of fate and war?
Overall, there are too many issues that are unresolved or lacking development (i.e. Cecilia's personality, Robbie's turmoil with class, Leon in general) to make me like this novel. Even the observations on writing that make up so much of the introduction do not carry through the rest of the novel. I will reread it, however, and see if my opinion changes.(less)
Atonement found itself in, perhaps, the strongest Booker Prize year of them all, so it's no surprise that Ian McEwan failed to pick up his second prize.
The travesty is that Peter Carey...moreAtonement found itself in, perhaps, the strongest Booker Prize year of them all, so it's no surprise that Ian McEwan failed to pick up his second prize.
The multiple perspectives, the lies, the fancy, the truth, the life, the sensuality, the suffering, the echoes of Brideshead Revisted, the metafiction, they all combine to make an experience that won't let me go.
It took three tries to get past Briony's production of her play, but once I made it past her spoiled petulance, I couldn't stop reading Atonement until I was through. And Briony's final, fading declaration of truth actually made me cry.
What stands out for me about Atonement is that nothing really stands out. It was a novel of immersion, like Cecilia diving for the broken shard of vase, or Robbie cocooned by darkness, rotting internally from a gut shot, or Cecilia drowning in a bombed out subway station, or the French soldier buried in his impending death, mistaking Briony for his lover. It is all there. All at once. And nothing overpowers the others. It is all powerful.
**NOTE: Spoilers included: I like the experience of reading a book and then seeing the movie, which is why I read this book. Both the book and the movie are highly acclaimed, so what could be a better choice?
I haven’t yet seen the movie since I just finished the book today, but perhaps I should have read "No Country For Old Men" instead.
100 pages into this book, I wanted to just give up. It felt like something that would have been forced on me by high scho...more**NOTE: Spoilers included: I like the experience of reading a book and then seeing the movie, which is why I read this book. Both the book and the movie are highly acclaimed, so what could be a better choice?
I haven’t yet seen the movie since I just finished the book today, but perhaps I should have read "No Country For Old Men" instead.
100 pages into this book, I wanted to just give up. It felt like something that would have been forced on me by high school English teachers, with all the descriptive, flowery language about British aristocratic characters, scenery, and architecture in 1935 that I just couldn’t bring myself to care about. Were it not for the knowledge that Briony was going to commit a crime (based on the back of the book), I would have definitely put it down. Even so, I thought the crime would have been something worse than perjury – taking approximately 170+ pages to build up to the crime better damn well be murder! (joking) – but nonetheless, her crime tore her family apart, which was bad. But still, taking up 170+ pages to describe one afternoon (as many people on this site have noted) was unnecessary. And even though the writing style was beautiful, elegant, etc., it seemed like nothing really *happened;* it was mostly thoughts, memories, and physical descriptions, much of which were irrelevant to the actual plot. Maybe that’s just my preference for reading books in which the characters actually DO something and TALK to each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a little description is ok and necessary, but this just took it to the extreme. I know McEwan was just trying to show the depth of the characters at play, thus getting the reader to care more about them and make the impact of what was about to happen more forceful, but he overdid it to the point of making me not care at all. I didn’t think the plot of this book really needed such in-depth description.
However, Parts 2 & 3 changed gears and definitely picked up; it was like reading a completely different book! I enjoyed reading about Robbie’s traumatic escape from France during the Battle of Dunkirk, and Briony’s experience as a nurse tending to the wounded/dead of World War II. Both sections were a refreshing contrast to the superficial, snobbish feel of the first section of the book (not that war is refreshing).
One thing I thought the book was missing and should have elaborated on more rather than the tedious Part 1 was the immediate aftermath of Briony’s crime. After the crime occurs, the plot immediately jumps to Robbie in France during the war, and we are told very little of what happened in the 3 year period of time between the crime itself, Robbie’s prison sentence, and his eventual deployment. We know that Robbie had aspired to go to medical school, but was the outcome of the novel a result of Briony’s crime or World War II? Even if Briony committed no crime, wasn’t Robbie’s being drafted to the war and eventual separation from Cecilia inevitable?
Despite being unsure if the novel’s outcome was the result of war or a childhood crime, unlike what some posters on this site have written, I actually liked the ending. I liked the revelation that the story was a novel within a novel, and an attempt at atonement that never happens in (Briony’s fictional) reality. If Briony had went on to talk to her family, lawyers, and legally retracted her false statement, and then Cecilia and Robbie lived happily ever after and forgave Briony, the novel would have been merely a glorified version of Briony’s juvenile The Trials of Arabella. Maybe it’s just me, but happy, neat endings in movies, books, etc. sometimes just get old. Life is just not that perfect, and the fact is, seemingly innocuous actions in the present may lead to consequences that can never be redeemed.
Overall, the length and weightiness of the first part of the book is why I only gave it 2 stars, but if that section had been condensed into, say, 50 pages or less, I would have given it 5 stars.
Is there word beyond 'amazing' that I can use? Some word beyond 'enthralling'? I need them. I'm reaching for them. But I literally just finished the book and I'm so much in awe of it I just can't. It's perfect. It's perfect in every image and line and mirror and echo. Ian McEwan is such a master of language and storycraft.
I devoured this book in a day. Less than a day. Ignoring all other work to do so. And it was TOTALLY worth it.
I can't think of what to praise first thi...moreIs there word beyond 'amazing' that I can use? Some word beyond 'enthralling'? I need them. I'm reaching for them. But I literally just finished the book and I'm so much in awe of it I just can't. It's perfect. It's perfect in every image and line and mirror and echo. Ian McEwan is such a master of language and storycraft.
I devoured this book in a day. Less than a day. Ignoring all other work to do so. And it was TOTALLY worth it.
I can't think of what to praise first this point, so I'm going to go in random order. I'll start with the language. It's enthralling. It's that that draws you into the story. The story moves rather slowly, really. Half of the book takes place on a single day. But it is the language that makes you not care. The wordchoice is enchanting, just so. Gorgeous imagery interposed with just the right touch of magic to keep it beautifully fresh. He weaves his images throughout the text, having them pop up again and again, subtly. For instance, a pair of boy's pajamas becomes a symbol of war and horror as well as innocence ruined and then vague oppression and doubt renewed throughout the novel. A finger becomes a sense of self and changed identity at various points. It's just gorgeously done.
The storycraft is so perfect too. I love how he chooses to do it, switching from perspective to perspective, but always with the center on this delusional little girl, and the echoes of her own storymaking. It is story that screws over them all in the end. But it is story that resurrects them too. I loved his inward musings on writing, and his critique of his own writing within the text. It's a bit of a breaking of the fourth wall that's done with a rather sad irony, but it still brought a smile to my face.
I really enjoyed the themes that he explored too. Eventually I'll post some of my favorite quotes to give an idea of the beauty of the language and ideas that he explores as well, but in general... I think my favorite idea that he dealt with was the idea of order as a kind of childishness. As a kind of little, small denial of the world. The entire book shows the folly of order and what it does to our souls and minds. (quotes to come on this). I also loved his treatment of the all consuming nature of guilt. Atonement. Atonement indeed.
Book Review: Ian McEwan, Atonement (Vintage, London, 2002)
The cover of Atonement is plastered with reviewers claiming it to be a 'masterpiece', and McEwan's best novel to date. I'd previously read his novel Enduring Love, and whilst I appreciated its merits as a literary piece, I was never completely pulled in by the characters and plot. But, Atonement really is a masterpiece. Being the geek that I am, I was practically squeeing over the sheer skill of it all.
The chara...moreBook Review: Ian McEwan, Atonement (Vintage, London, 2002)
The cover of Atonement is plastered with reviewers claiming it to be a 'masterpiece', and McEwan's best novel to date. I'd previously read his novel Enduring Love, and whilst I appreciated its merits as a literary piece, I was never completely pulled in by the characters and plot. But, Atonement really is a masterpiece. Being the geek that I am, I was practically squeeing over the sheer skill of it all.
The characters of the piece are each beautifully created creatures - the three protagonists especially. McEwan touches on characterisation a little when Briony muses that modern (mid twentieth century) novelists have no need for plot and characters - as she discovers, and as McEwan shows us, this is not the case. Along with Briony is Cecilia and Robbie. These three characters really come alive, both when the writing is from their prospective and when they are merely appearing in a scene. I found I could relate to each of them, finding shades of light and dark in them, liking them, but at the same time disliking them.
The central 'crime' of the piece is an interesting one, and it's hard to pin down just how much actual atonement there is when we reach the final stages of the novel: is Briony atoning for her sins as a person, or as a writer?
I found Part One to be the tightest section of the novel. It created the pre-war atmosphere of the mid-1930s beautifully. The fact that all of the action was kept to a single setting and over a very short period of time made it all the more sumptuous to read, as we delved into the lives of the Tallis family and those around them. I felt for a short time in the middle of the novel that the entire thing may collapse - when it was all very centered around Robbie's time as a soldier in France, but in hindsight, it is an essential part of the structure. The final scenes between Briony, Cecilia and Robbie were beautiful - so visual, yet full of characterisation and an atmosphere that really caught me.
The final section brings into question the idea of the reliability of the narrator, which is something I remember encountering whilst reading Enduring Love also. I think it is better handled in this novel, as it is brought to our attention as a choice, rather than a lack of sanity (as with Joe in Enduring Love). The way that it is handled - I'm trying to describe this without spoiling the novel - is so successful because it creates a stronger hold over us long after the final page is turned. There is always a series of lingering 'what if?'s. The ending itself is more than a little bittersweet.
Overall, a fantastic novel. McEwan's skill is incomparable - a writer who can be truly literary and also tell one hell of a tale. He is an example of twenty-first century writing at its very best, and I look forward to reading more of his work when I get the chance.(less)
AnthonyI finished this yesterday... what a great novel.
I just wrote a rambling review at work for goodreads.com for this novel, and then I saw tha...moreI finished this yesterday... what a great novel.
I just wrote a rambling review at work for goodreads.com for this novel, and then I saw that you had written a review also. Yours is better. (less)
Oct 05, 2007 07:56am
Fenixbird SandSI liked your review! gotta read it now "All time favorites"?? OMG!
I was attracted to this book, because in the trailer there was Keira, wearing that stunning green dress. And because the soundtrack was impressive. It reminded me of my childhood, raised as a daughter of a hyperactive and workaholic journalist, the sound of typewriting machine was the sound that I was constantly surrounded with. Plus, I had something of Briony in my personality. Book wonder, and sneaking upon my older sister.
So I saw the movie, and because I didn’t have any clue wha...moreI was attracted to this book, because in the trailer there was Keira, wearing that stunning green dress. And because the soundtrack was impressive. It reminded me of my childhood, raised as a daughter of a hyperactive and workaholic journalist, the sound of typewriting machine was the sound that I was constantly surrounded with. Plus, I had something of Briony in my personality. Book wonder, and sneaking upon my older sister.
So I saw the movie, and because I didn’t have any clue what to expect, I cried for the next few days.
Atonement is the first book that made a huge impact in my twenties. I decided to read it because, I thought, no, honestly, if a movie is really that great, is it possible for a book to be even better?
Correct.
Most of the time during reading, I was utterly envious. I couldn’t believe that somebody – McEwan, actually had all those words in his vocabulary. He was talking about Briony and her aggressive attitude toward nettles for 20 pages – what a fantastic psychological mind game. And during those pages, I was biting my nails because my brain just couldn’t cope with his eloquence.
His symbols, sexual connotations, guilt as a wild angry animal that will torment you till the end – everything about this book is connected with human psyche and rotation consequences.
I know that Briony is just a kid, inspecting her childhood years on the edge crossing into adulthood, while dark and humming sounds of sexual deviations are coming to the surface during lazy summer nights, but at one point I just wanted to slap her. Mind your own business you spoiled and stupid child!
But I understand her. Perspectives change as everybody in this book inevitably change. Characters develop, as the narration develops.
There is no atonement. Just guilt, and they can’t apply - don’t look back.
It is just an amazing book, to put it mildly. Not enough words in my vocabulary. (less)
She sits at her desk in the fading late afternoon light that oozes in through the slats. Her hands hover over the keyboard, and she wills them to move, to begin typing out a review of Ian McEwan's novel Atonement, but they do not. She understands, of course, that willing her hands to move and making them move are two entirely different things, that in fact the thinking about the one is preventing her from accomplishing the other. And yet she doesn't quite know where to begin, what to say.
...moreShe sits at her desk in the fading late afternoon light that oozes in through the slats. Her hands hover over the keyboard, and she wills them to move, to begin typing out a review of Ian McEwan's novel Atonement, but they do not. She understands, of course, that willing her hands to move and making them move are two entirely different things, that in fact the thinking about the one is preventing her from accomplishing the other. And yet she doesn't quite know where to begin, what to say.
How can she best express her profound admiration for McEwan's gift of more fully putting the reader into the minds of his characters than perhaps any other writer she has read? In fact, there were many times throughout her reading of the book where McEwan captured the inner workings of a character with such precision that Carolyn thought to herself, "Why, yes, that's it exactly. That's exactly what would happen inside me if I were this character, in this situation, and yet never could I articulate it myself."
And what generosity of spirit McEwan demonstrates, that even the young person whose transgressions against the truth put the most crucial events of the story into motion and have such terrible consequences, is presented in such a way that, although we may despise what she does, we come to understand her so well. In truth, Carolyn, who was also given to trust in the conspiracies of her heart and her imagination as a child, saw some of herself in this character.
And oh, the structure, with its powerful final pages, surprising us and making this story so much more than it was already. Carolyn longs to say more about these final pages, but she is reluctant to do so, for fear of spoiling the novel's impact for others.
And yet, for all this, Carolyn cannot deny that there were sections in the book that did not fully captivate her. Surely such a revelation says more about her than about the book, for there is no denying that Atonement is a tremendous literary achievement. At times perhaps, to Carolyn, the narrator's description of the events and the internal lives of the characters was, perhaps, too precise, if such a thing can be possible...it felt a bit removed and clinical, coolly observing and reporting on the events from a safe remove.
She sits there still, trying to best determine how to express all this. Simply clicking the mouse to assign the book four out of five stars is so inadequate as to be almost comical, when thinking of such a rich, complex and wonderful book as Atonement. And yet she remains at a loss, utterly uncertain as to what else to do, as the sky outside her window takes on a soft pink and purple glow.
This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it,
click here.A few years ago, I was reading an issue of Granta, and found myself immersed in a short story by Ian McEwan. It was one of the best stories I'd ever read, and when I finished reading it, it was one of the few times I've ever thought, God, I wish I could have written that. I wanted that control of language, that mastery of the narrative, and I was in awe of the skill it took to create that piece.
Eventually, I recycled that issue of Granta -- it's a thick journal, as literary journals ...moreA few years ago, I was reading an issue of Granta, and found myself immersed in a short story by Ian McEwan. It was one of the best stories I'd ever read, and when I finished reading it, it was one of the few times I've ever thought, God, I wish I could have written that. I wanted that control of language, that mastery of the narrative, and I was in awe of the skill it took to create that piece.
Eventually, I recycled that issue of Granta -- it's a thick journal, as literary journals go, about 250 pages in each issue -- but before doing so, I was careful to cut out the pages the McEwan story was on, and clip them together with a binder clip. I'm sure that story is still somewhere in my childhood home; I could never bring myself to get rid of it, in any of my periodic cleaning sweeps.
Imagine my shock, when today, trying to distract myself from the pain in my foot, I tugged down Ian McEwan's Atonement, and found that short story again. The retreat from Dunkirk is about 190 pages into my copy of the novel (yes, I read it all today, I'm a really fast reader and I was concentrating because my foot hurt like a -- well), and re-reading it, with the preceding chapters still fresh in my mind, settled the matter for me. I was right to cut out those pages, and I'm still in awe of the skill McEwan wields.
I'd been plunged into a very different world for almost two hundred pages, caught up by the lush language and the intimacy of the family setting, and then suddenly to be confronted with the violence of the retreat from Dunkirk, still cloaked in McEwan's incredible way of writing, was just amazing. And the plot, which begins slowly, is ultimately very satisfying; it's never resolved traditionally, we're never sure of what happened, but it's tied up so neatly, with the stunning twist at the end of the part of the novel written in third-person, which is so tiny you might not notice, that it becomes something far more than we expected.
Everyone, I suspect, knows my love for unreliable narrators and epistolary fiction narrative-within-narrative, and this satisfies those kinks in the most subtle way I've ever come across. Add the fantastic use of language, the complexity and completeness of the universe (the throwaways are just amazing in their richness), and the excellent characterization, and there is no way I wasn't going to love this. The fact that McEwan writes rape -- and adolescent rape at that -- wasn't enough to put me off, although I wish we followed Lola as well; watching how the rape played out for the convicted Robbie and the accuser Briony (and it's a nice touch separating the victim from the accuser) as well as Cecelia, who's torn between her family and her lover (and possibly I really fell for her when she deliberately turned her back on her family -- I didn't like her much through the first part, but when she chooses Robbie and sticks by him, and when she doesn't give in when Briony visits, I was enchanted), but I had no real sense of what happened to Lola internally, right after the rape. The marriage is a fascinating thing, but...I'd have liked a scene in which she suggests, a little, a very little, that maybe it wasn't Robbie and Briony insists, "I know it was him, I saw him, I know it was him," and she gives way under the considerable force of Briony's personality.
But as I say, I'm not rational about this. This is a story I love, and will be rereading, not just for the pleasure of the novel, but in order to learn from it.
I like this book better the more I think about it. My initial reaction was that it was an elaborate bit of clever trickery, but the depth of the writing is what redeems it.
favorite quotes (possible spoilers):
Chapter 1
At the age of eleven she wrote her first story—a foolish affair, imitative of half a dozen folktales and lacking, she realized later, that vital knowingness about the ways of the world which compels a reader’s respect. But this first clumsy attem...moreI like this book better the more I think about it. My initial reaction was that it was an elaborate bit of clever trickery, but the depth of the writing is what redeems it.
favorite quotes (possible spoilers):
Chapter 1
At the age of eleven she wrote her first story—a foolish affair, imitative of half a dozen folktales and lacking, she realized later, that vital knowingness about the ways of the world which compels a reader’s respect. But this first clumsy attempt showed her that the imagination itself was a source of secrets: once she had begun a story, no one could be told. Pretending in words was too tentative, too vulnerable, too embarrassing to let anyone know. Even writing out the she saids, the and thens, made her wince, and she felt foolish, appearing to know about the emotions of an imaginary being. Self-exposure was inevitable the moment she described a character’s weakness; the reader was bound to speculate that she was describing herself. What other authority could she have? Only when a story was finished, all fates resolved and the whole matter sealed off at both ends so it resembled, at least in this one respect, every other finished story in the world, could she feel immune, and ready to punch holes in the margins, bind the chapters with pieces of string, paint or draw the cover, and take the finished work to show to her mother, or her father, when he was home.
Her efforts received encouragement. In fact, they were welcomed as the Tallises began to understand that the baby of the family possessed a strange mind and a facility with words. The long afternoons she spent browsing through dictionary and thesaurus made for constructions that were inept, but hauntingly so: the coins a villain concealed in his pocket were “esoteric,” a hoodlum caught stealing a car wept in “shameless auto-exculpation,” the heroine on her thoroughbred stallion made a “cursory” journey through the night, the king’s furrowed brow was the “hieroglyph” of his displeasure.
Writing stories not only involved secrecy, it also gave her all the pleasures of miniaturization. A world could be made in five pages, and one that was more pleasing than a model farm….Her passion for tidiness was also satisfied, for
an unruly world could be made just so.
The pages of a recently finished story seemed to vibrate in her hand with all the life they contained.
Chapter 2
It made no sense, she knew, arranging flowers before the water was in—but there it was; she couldn’t resist moving them around, and not everything people did could be in a correct, logical order, especially when they were alone.
Chapter 3
Was everyone else really as alive as she was?… Was being Cecilia just as vivid an affair as being Briony? Did her sister also have a real self concealed behind a breaking wave, and did she spend time thinking about it, with a finger held up to her face? Did everybody, including her father, Betty, Hardman? If the answer was yes, then the world, the social world, was unbearably complicated, with two billion voices, and everyone’s thoughts striving in equal importance and everyone’s claim on life as intense, and everyone thinking they were unique, when no one was. One could drown in irrelevance.
A story was a form of telepathy. By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to her reader’s. It was a magical process, so commonplace that no one stopped to wonder at it.
It was a temptation for her to be magical and dramatic, and to regard what she had witnessed as a tableau mounted for her alone, a special moral for her wrapped in a mystery. But she knew very well that if she had not stood when she did, the scene would still have happened, for it was not about her at all. Only chance had brought her to the window.
None of these three was bad, nor were they particularly good. She need not judge. There did not have to be a moral. She need only show separate minds, as alive as her own, struggling with the idea that other minds were equally alive. It wasn’t only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you. And only in a story could you enter these different minds and show how they had an equal value. That was the only moral a story need have.
Chapter 4
She lolled against the warm stone, lazily finishing her cigarette and contemplating the scene before her—the foreshortened slab of chlorinated water, the black inner tube of a tractor tire propped against a deck chair, the two men in cream linen suits of infinitesimally different hues, bluishgray smoke rising against the bamboo green. It looked carved, fixed, and again, she felt it: it had happened a long time ago, and all outcomes, on all scales—from the tiniest to the most colossal—were already in place. Whatever happened in the future, however superficially strange or shocking, would also have an unsurprising, familiar quality, inviting her to say, but only to herself, Oh yes, of course. That. I should have known.
Chapter 7
But of course, it had all been her—by her and about her—and now she was back in the world, not one she could make, but the one that had made her, and she felt herself shrinking under the early evening sky.
She decided she would stay there and wait until something significant happened to her. This was the challenge she was putting to existence—she would not stir, not for dinner, not even for her mother calling her in. She would simply wait on the bridge, calm and obstinate, until events, real events, not her own fantasies, rose to her challenge, and dispelled her insignificance.
Chapter 8
Despite his first, the study of English literature seemed in retrospect an absorbing parlor game, and reading books and having opinions about them, the desirable adjunct to a civilized existence.
Part 2
“I’ll wait for you. Come back.”
He walked/across/the land/until/he came/to the sea.
It was madness to go to the man’s defense, it was loathsome not to. At the same time, Turner understood the exhilaration among the tormentors and the insidious way it could claim him. He himself could do something outrageous with his bowie knife and earn the love of a hundred men. To distance the thought he made himself count the two or three soldiers in the circle he reckoned bigger or stronger than himself. But the real danger came from the mob itself, its righteous state of mind. It would not be denied its pleasures.
PART 3
For a while she thought of herself as a kind of medical Chaucer, whose wards thronged with colorful types, coves, topers, old hats, nice dears with a sinister secret to tell. In later years she regretted not being more factual, not providing herself with a store of raw material. It would have been useful to know what happened, what it looked like, who was there, what was said. At the time, the journal preserved her dignity: she might look and behave like and live the life of a trainee nurse, but she was really an important writer in disguise. And at a time when she was cut off from everything she knew—family, home, friends—writing was the thread of continuity. It was what she had always done.
What excited her about her achievement was its design, the pure geometry and the defining uncertainty which reflected, she thought, a modern sensibility. The age of clear answers was over. So was the age of characters and plots. Despite her journal sketches, she no longer really believed in characters. They were quaint devices that belonged to the nineteenth century. The very concept of character was founded on errors that modern psychology had exposed. Plots too were like rusted machinery whose wheels would no longer turn. A modern novelist could no more write characters and plots than a modern composer could a Mozart symphony. It was thought, perception, sensations that interested her, the conscious mind as a river through time, and how to represent its onward roll, as well as all the tributaries that would swell it, and the obstacles that would divert it. If only she could reproduce the clear light of a summer’s morning, the sensations of a child standing at a window, the curve and dip of a swallow’s flight over a pool of water. The novel of the future would be unlike anything in the past. She had read Virginia Woolf’s The Waves three times and thought that a great transformation was being worked in human nature itself, and that only fiction, a new kind of fiction, could capture the essence of the change. To enter a mind and show it at work, or being worked on, and to do this within a symmetrical design—this would be an artistic triumph.
She learned a simple, obvious thing she had always known, and everyone knew: that a person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn, not easily mended.
Might she come between them in some disastrous fashion? Yes, indeed. And having done so, might she obscure the fact by concocting a slight, barely clever fiction and satisfy her vanity by sending it off to a magazine? The interminable pages about light and stone and water, a narrative split between three different points of view, the hovering stillness of nothing much seeming to happen—none of this could conceal her cowardice. Did she really think she could hide behind some borrowed notions of modern writing, and drown her guilt in a stream—three streams!—of consciousness? The evasions of her little novel were exactly those of her life. Everything she did not wish to confront was also missing from her novella—and was necessary to it. What was she to do now? It was not the backbone of a story that she lacked. It was backbone.
London, 1999
No atonement for God, or novelists, even if they are atheists.
The three stars – three and a half, actually – was more about my personal enjoyment, me who was a bit disturbed by and couldn’t sympathize with some of the characters and their fates, not anything directly concerning McEwan’s writing dexterity.
I have no problem with Ian McEwan’s skillful mastery of the language he used to tell this story of love, crime, war and tragedy. In fact, I like his style in this book (his first ever I’d read), much more than I do some other contemporary writ...moreThe three stars – three and a half, actually – was more about my personal enjoyment, me who was a bit disturbed by and couldn’t sympathize with some of the characters and their fates, not anything directly concerning McEwan’s writing dexterity.
I have no problem with Ian McEwan’s skillful mastery of the language he used to tell this story of love, crime, war and tragedy. In fact, I like his style in this book (his first ever I’d read), much more than I do some other contemporary writers I’ve come across. I admire his fluent, vivid descriptions of places, weather, atmosphere, the heatwave, emotions – although at times they make me a bit tired and think “Alright, I understand what you mean, no need to throw more than a fourth of the thesaurus at me anymore!”
The lovers of this novel – around whose tragic lives the story was spun – were too… not uncommon to me. Two childhood friends who grew older and grew apart as they found out that there were too many differences between them; differences that made them realise that they’re bound to be eternal lovers. But probably that’s exactly why they’re needed to be so: because something came inbetween them, and ruined the fairy-tale like ending everyone likes to dream of.
You might have seen the girl, Cecilia Tallis, in other places, more than once: a ‘modern’ girl, whose love, education and work cut her off from her family. Her mother thought Cecilia had contemptuously put herself on airs just because she went to Cambridge to read books like Austen’s and Dickens’ that all could be found in their home library.
Her lover is Robbie Turner, called ‘Robbie’ in the parts of the novel that deal with his life in the Tallises’ house and when he’s with Cecilia, and the cold, distant ‘Turner’ in the narration when he’s away in Northern France retreating from the Jerry. Robbie was the bright son of a gardener and a charlady serving the house of a self-made rich family, the Tallises. His mother’s master, with his dream of equality, paid Robbie’s tuition and even sent him to Cambridge along with his daughter. A good-natured lad, falling in love with the master’s older daughter. A handsome guy who tried to act helpful, but became a victim of a girl’s seemingly unshakable imagination. Robbie’s so nice a guy that he didn’t feel it right for Cecilia to estrange herself from her family just because of him.
The most unusual character – and we can safely say that she is the central character of the novel – is Briony, Cecilia’s far younger sister, a dreamy kid with wild imaginations and a true, honest love towards the members of her family. The wild and the honest mixed to create what later Briony would, when she reflected on her early teen years, think as a crime, but at the time when it was done it was only an innocent act of a girl too imaginative for everyone’s good: accusing Robbie for something terrible he hadn’t done.
But wait. Cecilia, despite all her liberalism that sent her love-making with the charlady’s son and living independently, was still a bit of the snob after all – blaming and hating another gardener’s son without evidence just because of her blind faith that it was not Robbie. And Robbie failed to grab young Briony’s true intention, assigning a jealous, adult love that only… well, only an adult is capable of. And didn’t he, in some way, kick the ball for the first time anyway? My, how one thing leads to another.
Oh, yes, love is cruel, love blinds you, and you’ll think that however the lovers will live happily ever after. Will they? Read this book to know for yourself; it is one of the book’s merits that it can captivate the readers’ attention long enough, making them wonder about what will happen next and how it all will end, and how unpredictable characters can turn out. And it is Briony that I relate with, that I sympathize with: Briony that grew up and tried to liberate herself from the strains she created herself, feeling the guilt of having plunged people’s lives into misery.(less)
Recommends it for: anyone who likes well written books
Recommended to Kristi by:
Annalisa
This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it,
click here.Many, many thanks to Annalisa for recommending this book to me. Reading it was a journey of mixed emotions. I was enchanted by the writing throughout, especially the writing about writing. I loved the thought processes of Briony. I also remember wondering once if everyone else had the same unique thoughts and aspirations that I had. I loved reading about her journey as a writer. I also enjoyed reading about Cecilia and Robbie, but my enjoyment was tainted. I was hoping too hard for a happy endin...moreMany, many thanks to Annalisa for recommending this book to me. Reading it was a journey of mixed emotions. I was enchanted by the writing throughout, especially the writing about writing. I loved the thought processes of Briony. I also remember wondering once if everyone else had the same unique thoughts and aspirations that I had. I loved reading about her journey as a writer. I also enjoyed reading about Cecilia and Robbie, but my enjoyment was tainted. I was hoping too hard for a happy ending. From what I had heard about the book, I was sure there wouldn't be one and I was prematurely disappointed. I struggled to continue reading through most of the middle third of the book. I was on a cruise and this book did not fit my usual light vacation reading requirements. I complained to my companions about the book at regular intervals. Then I finished the final chapter. I was blown away. I think the juxtaposition of what I thought happened and what really happened was powerful and beautiful. I reread the final chapter of the war section and the final chapter of part two and those parts took on new meaning. I was laying out in the Mexican sun and crying to myself. Highly recommended, but you have to finish it to understand. (less)
I could see what the author was trying to do by writing a book where almost all of the action took place internally rather than externally. It just didn't work for me, though. The writing itself wasn't bad, per se, but I personally didn't care for it. I love descriptive writing, but there is no instance in which I need to read about someone picking out what they are going to wear for 4 pages. I also didn't care for the sexually explicit content or the ...moreI did not like it Sam, I Am.
I could see what the author was trying to do by writing a book where almost all of the action took place internally rather than externally. It just didn't work for me, though. The writing itself wasn't bad, per se, but I personally didn't care for it. I love descriptive writing, but there is no instance in which I need to read about someone picking out what they are going to wear for 4 pages. I also didn't care for the sexually explicit content or the over use (I thought) of profanity.
I am not sure who it was that read the book and thought it would make a great movie. I strongly disagree, but lots of people loved the movie, so perhaps I am in the minority. I saw the movie first and didn't care for it, but often books are so much better than the movie so I thought I would give it a try. I was very disappointed. I didn't think the book provided much more insight into the characters, a little, but not much.
I did like that the characters were more human than most fictional characters. They were all very flawed, as mortal mean are, but they didn't have enough redeeming qualities to even make me really like any of them. I also thought that the title was ill-fitting. I assume that the atonement was supposed to relate to Briony, but she didn't do enough for me to think that she actually atoned for anything. She didn't even seem to be very remorseful.
I can't think of a single person I would recommend this book to. (less)
I have to admit that I saw the movie first but I still couldn't decide whether it was a good decision or not.
So, in what I had been billed as a "stroll in the park" kind of reading (since i have seen the movie) turned out to make my face frowned. The first half of this book is really hard for my poor brain to absorb. I find it tiresome. Especially first 100 pages or so with the switching perspectives that take place in just one day. A little too precise, perhaps. At ...more I have to admit that I saw the movie first but I still couldn't decide whether it was a good decision or not.
So, in what I had been billed as a "stroll in the park" kind of reading (since i have seen the movie) turned out to make my face frowned. The first half of this book is really hard for my poor brain to absorb. I find it tiresome. Especially first 100 pages or so with the switching perspectives that take place in just one day. A little too precise, perhaps. At this point I could count myself somewhat fortunate to have watched the movie first. It really help me get through this aching section.
But, The book was so good in second section until the end so it wiped out the frown on my face. I started to enjoy the author writing, especially the suspense when the story nearly come to an end. Some people would have thought that it would've been "nice" had the story ended a few pages earlier :)
The ending itself for me was a gut-wrenching, ridiculously awesome... Kind a gave a blank look on my face, followed by the dropping of my jaw and ended by the scream... "Whaaaat?!"
Of course I didn't experienced all of that cause I've seen the movie first which now I kinda regret it.(less)
Funny story about how I came to read Ian McEwan's novel, Atonement.
It must have been a year-and-a-half ago when my old college pal Chris recommended it to me (you know Chris as a frequent credit on the more interesting links posted around here). I acknowledged his suggestion, filed it in the back of my mind, and, as I do with so many book suggestions, expected to let it incubate there--remembering it when I browsed bookstores, perking up to reviews and commentary about it, and waitin...moreFunny story about how I came to read Ian McEwan's novel, Atonement.
It must have been a year-and-a-half ago when my old college pal Chris recommended it to me (you know Chris as a frequent credit on the more interesting links posted around here). I acknowledged his suggestion, filed it in the back of my mind, and, as I do with so many book suggestions, expected to let it incubate there--remembering it when I browsed bookstores, perking up to reviews and commentary about it, and waiting for the moment when the spirit strikes to finally pick it up and read it.
Chris was more persistent than most folks who suggest titles to me. He emailed me one-liners: "Have you read it yet?" He not-so-casually mentioned it in longer letters. He recommended no other books--not a single title escaped his lips except for Atonement--and he generally conveyed the message that id I didn't read Ian McEwan's novel, our friendship would wither and die.
So I picked it up at the Boston Public Library last summer. I informed Chris of that fact, rather satisfied with myself, and I started reading.
I read slower than usual, as my already dubious habit of three-books-at-atime didn't translate well into my summer lifestyle, where, between a dayjob and overnight live-in position, I was pretty much on someone else's clock 24 hours a day.
Sixty pages in, I had to renew Atonement. Then I renewed it again. And finally I was told that some other anxious person was in line for my copy (probably Chris' cousin or something), and I had to return it. I intended on taking out another copy the next day--and was told that there was a lenghty waiting list.
'What the hell,' I thought. 'I'm moving in a few weeks anyway, and I'm reading the book so slow, I may as well be illiterate. I haven't a prayer of finishing it.'
As shamefacedly as one can be over email, I told Chris. He was not impressed.
Several weeks later, I was still on a high whenever I got mail at my new Detroit address. Yup, this is where I live! This is my place in the world--and the U.S. Postal Service acknowledges it!
Best of all, of course, is packages of books. Since I set up shop here in the Internet, I've had the privilege of receiving a lot of interesting titles, ones I might not have had the chance to check out otherwise, and the best of which I enthusiastically tell you, dear reader, all about.
But one of my first book packages in Detroit wasn't from a publisher or a publicist. It was from Chris. You can imagine what he deigned to mail me.
He said he figured I'd never read it if he didn't put his copy directly in my hands. Which is true.
And so I read Atonement, much more quickly this time. My first Ian McEwan title. And with all that preleude, here, finally, is my verdict.
Atonement is a smart, well put-together novel that--as you probably know from the upcoming film adaptation's publicity, if nowhere else--is grounded in the wonderful character of Briony Tallis, and the horrible thing she does one day in 1935, when she is ten-years old. That act spins through the lives of others--particularly Cecilia, who is Briony's older sister, and Robbie, the man Cecilia loves--for years, well beyond World War II.
McEwan does tricks with omniscence that us lesser writers can only dream about. Atonement is a delightfully patient novel; it builds tension not in traditional linear style ("what happens next?") but in a circular manner ("what actually happened? how? why?")
In a novel that conscpicuously manipulates the repetition of scenes and revelation, Atonement qualifies as a craft lesson on how to maintain the profuluence of a plot--the engine that moves the story forward--when it keeps spinning back to the same moments. It's quite a feat, actually, and McEwan has my utmost respect for achieving it: suspense built into an obsessive narrative hinged on a single thunderous day.
And speaking of supsense, Atonement got more interesting as it went on. The first section of the book really does plod a bit (it wasn't just me!); a lot of pausing in a moment and looking about for pages and pages; enough technical description of the house and grounds where Briony's crime takes place, that McEwan may as well have provided an annotated map.
Looking back, I realize the intentionality of the initial slowness. Much of the groundwork for McEwan's tricks with omniscience is laid out; and the narrative mimics the memory of Briony, Robbie, and Cecilia, who will later compulsively re-enact every moment and every detail of the day-and-a-half covered by the novel's fist section.
I understand that. I still think it should've been edited down by about 35 pages.
Not that it's a huge chore to read. As the book moves forward, changing what you thought you knew about the preceding pages, the experience of both familiarity and surprise is a joy. And the final pages of Atonement are a fascinating consideration of the craft of fiction, of creation and imagination, and of how it simultaneously enable the very best and the very worst in us.
Which, for this passionate reader and writer, is a thought that uncomfortably sits on the mind.
So let me say, once and for all: Thank you, Chris, for the recommendation. I look forward to more. And I might even have a few of my own.(less)
This book is wonderful, a pleasure to read. It start with a slow, introspective pace, like Virginia Woolf, includes carefully drawn characters like Austen, and has an amazing ending, one that hits the reader like a 2 by 4. So beautifully done.
SPOILER ALERT**************************
The story open with Briony, the younger adolescent sister, who has written a play that will be put on for her arriving brother, Leon. The cast is to be her cousins, who are staying with the Tallis family...moreThis book is wonderful, a pleasure to read. It start with a slow, introspective pace, like Virginia Woolf, includes carefully drawn characters like Austen, and has an amazing ending, one that hits the reader like a 2 by 4. So beautifully done.
SPOILER ALERT**************************
The story open with Briony, the younger adolescent sister, who has written a play that will be put on for her arriving brother, Leon. The cast is to be her cousins, who are staying with the Tallis family due to the divorce of their parents. But then Briony sees something between her sister Cecilia and the maid’s son, Robbie. He has been promoted by Mr. Tallis, and sent to all the best schools, and gotten good grades. And because Briony has seen this thing that she doesn’t understand, she develops an anger at Robbie and a protection of her sister. As the events of the day unfold, Briony’s anger is further inflamed, and she tells a lie that changes Cecilia and Robbie’s lives forever.
Then the book moves to the battlefield in France. Robbie and two other soldiers are making their way on foot to Dunkirk, for the British withdrawal. The scenes are vivid, and Robbie is propelled by love letters he has from Cecilia. These are some of the most well-written war scenes I have read.
Briony has decided to give up the comfort of a Cambridge education, and becomes a nurse. This is her atonement. Nursing school is hell, and then the injured soldiers arrive. She nurses one French soldier who has half of his head blown off. Briony is still a writer, and she receives a rejection letter from a publisher for her story, which is quite helpful in telling her how to fix her story of two lovers.
There is one other pivotal scene, and then the ending, which is a reunion of sorts. The ending is Briony telling us what is real and what is not, in the story the reader has just read. This is amazing, since the whole thing is fiction. You start to question everything, and question when you started to get fooled.
It’s an amazing book, one well worth reading.
(less)
I fully expected this book to be overly dramatic given that the movie adaptation (which I have not seen) was Oscar nominated. But for a book of it's length not much really happened here. The writing was excellent but too drawn out, too descriptive, too slow.
One can glean, however, a few life lessons from the story:
1. Don't participate in illicit sexual activity in the library when you have a weird little sister lurking about.
2. Don't use a very bad word (I won't say which...moreI fully expected this book to be overly dramatic given that the movie adaptation (which I have not seen) was Oscar nominated. But for a book of it's length not much really happened here. The writing was excellent but too drawn out, too descriptive, too slow.
One can glean, however, a few life lessons from the story:
1. Don't participate in illicit sexual activity in the library when you have a weird little sister lurking about.
2. Don't use a very bad word (I won't say which because it's bad, very bad) when writing notes to others.
3. Don't lie because you never know when there might be a war that will prevent you from making things right.
And as you may have guessed, there is enough subject matter to justify a rated R movie--language mostly with some sexual content. Therefore, I cannot, in good conscience, give it more stars. (Plus my mom may be reading this!) (less)
Ian McEwan was born on 21 June 1948 in Aldershot, England. He studied at the University of Sussex, where he received a BA degree in English Literature in 1970. He received his MA degree in English Literature at the University of East Anglia.
McEwan's works have earned him worldwide critical acclaim. He won the Somerset Maugham Award in 1976 for his first collection of short stories Firs...moreIan McEwan was born on 21 June 1948 in Aldershot, England. He studied at the University of Sussex, where he received a BA degree in English Literature in 1970. He received his MA degree in English Literature at the University of East Anglia.
McEwan's works have earned him worldwide critical acclaim. He won the Somerset Maugham Award in 1976 for his first collection of short stories First Love, Last Rites; the Whitbread Novel Award (1987) and the Prix Fémina Etranger (1993) for The Child in Time; and Germany's Shakespeare Prize in 1999. He has been shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize for Fiction numerous times, winning the award for Amsterdam in 1998. His novel Atonement received the WH Smith Literary Award (2002), National Book Critics' Circle Fiction Award (2003), Los Angeles Times Prize for Fiction (2003), and the Santiago Prize for the European Novel (2004). He was awarded a CBE in 2000. In 2006, he won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for his novel Saturday and his novel On Chesil Beach was named Galaxy Book of the Year at the 2008 British Book Awards where McEwan was also named Reader's Digest Author of the Year.
McEwan lives in London and is currently writing a new novel. His most recently published work is For You, a libretto. (less)
“A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.”
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“It wasn't only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you.”
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226 people liked it
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review of another edition
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review of another edition
Jan 24, 2012 03:56pm
Jan 24, 2012 04:26pm