Jan 17, 11
Going by this book, McEwan is a medicre novelist. The story is ordinary till the ending which strains credibility and somehow manages to combine the salacious with the misogynist. As in many recent British novels, there's a plot-pandering coincidence at the end. This is a distasteful book, and its acclaim is a testimony to the lack of critical reviews. There are so many profound and rich books being written today. This is just second-rate. I care about writing, and this made me angry.