Lessons

by Ian McEwan

Roland went to the pulpit to deliver the eulogy. Henry, the eldest, had not wanted to do it and nor did Susan. Facing Roland were many who’d had only the briefest education. He did not know how much history they knew. Speaking without notes he reminded the congregation of the year of Rosalind’s birth, 1915. He said it was hard to think of another historical period when a single lifetime of ninety years could have encompassed as much change as hers did. When she was born, the Russian Revolution was two years away, the First World War was only just beginning its terrible slaughter. The inventions that would transform the twentieth century – the wireless, the car, the telephone, the aeroplane – had not yet touched the lives of the villagers of Ash. Television, computers, the Internet were years away and unimaginable. So too was the Second War, with its even greater slaughter. It would shape Rosalind’s life and the lives of everyone she knew. Ash was still a horse-drawn world in 1915, hierarchical, agricultural, tightly knit. A visit to the doctor could be a serious financial setback to a working family. Rosalind wore callipers on her legs at the age of three to correct for malnutrition. By the end of her life a spacecraft had entered the orbit of Mars, we contemplated the unknowns of global warming and were beginning to wonder if artificial intelligence might one day replace human life.