Lessons

by Ian McEwan

At last, back in London, they had a row, not a hurricane but forceful enough and bitter. It made up for all they had avoided. Roland was astonished by the strength of his anger and at how hard she pushed back. She was tough in argument. As it was bound to, their dispute concerned the GDR. He tried to tell her of what he knew about the Stasi, about the party’s penetration into private lives, of what it meant, not to be free to travel, to read this or that book, or hear certain music and of how those who dared criticise the party risked having their children taken away and being denied their choice of occupation. She reminded him of the Berufsverbot, the West German law that barred perceived radical critics of the state as well as terrorists from the public sector, including teaching. She spoke of racism in America, its support of fascist dictators, of NATO’s vast armoury, of unemployment and poverty and poisoned rivers across the West. He told her she was changing the subject. She told him he wasn’t listening. He said the issue was human rights. She said poverty was an abuse of human rights. They were close to shouting. He left in a fury to spend the afternoon at his own place. Their reconciliation that evening was joyous.