Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Ian McEwan
posted at 9:28 AM |
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Finished On Chesil Beach. I relished every moment. That's an odd thing to say about such a complex and difficult story but it's told in an exceptionally simple and beautiful way so it seems utterly uncomplex and endearing. It's written rather sneakily, but I think that's McEwan's gift, actually. Florence and Edward's problems and issues are so simple and genuine that you feel as if you're hearing them tell you without decorative touches or embellishment. It's also such a specific time and yet perhaps not so limited to the time as it seems at first.
I wish everyone I know would read it and write down their unedited reactions without talking to anyone first and then, at last, we'd all get together for a long conversation - sharing our reactions and personal experiences. It would bridge generations and geography, I feel quite sure.
And now I must read more. I have previously rather steadfastly avoided McEwan's novels because I tend to be wary of writers who are spoken of in hushed tones. Enormous adulation for writers has been known, in my opinion, to infuse the writing with some puffed up air that I find distasteful. I found the movie of Atonement to have some of that feeling, for example, but now that I see what McEwan is doing, I suspect that I would enjoy the book for much of the same insights and ways of conveying them as Chesil Beach. In fact I have changed my overall opinion of Atonement as a result. I only have these two stories to go on, so far, but McEwan seems to be presenting people with great sensitivity, even affection, although the people themselves are experiencing solitary loneliness (no that is not redundant) and are having difficulty being or becoming themselves.
I wish everyone I know would read it and write down their unedited reactions without talking to anyone first and then, at last, we'd all get together for a long conversation - sharing our reactions and personal experiences. It would bridge generations and geography, I feel quite sure.
And now I must read more. I have previously rather steadfastly avoided McEwan's novels because I tend to be wary of writers who are spoken of in hushed tones. Enormous adulation for writers has been known, in my opinion, to infuse the writing with some puffed up air that I find distasteful. I found the movie of Atonement to have some of that feeling, for example, but now that I see what McEwan is doing, I suspect that I would enjoy the book for much of the same insights and ways of conveying them as Chesil Beach. In fact I have changed my overall opinion of Atonement as a result. I only have these two stories to go on, so far, but McEwan seems to be presenting people with great sensitivity, even affection, although the people themselves are experiencing solitary loneliness (no that is not redundant) and are having difficulty being or becoming themselves.
2 comments
I have not read On Chesil Beach, but have read Atonement which I throughly enjoyed and can recommend.
I have not seen the movie as I tend to avoid movies of books that I have already read.
Ian McEwan is one of my favourite modern authors, try reading, In the Cement Garden, A Child in Time, Enduring Love and his short stories. I love the way he can tell a story (quite often a horrific one) in such a beautiful and honest way.
I have not seen the movie as I tend to avoid movies of books that I have already read.
Ian McEwan is one of my favourite modern authors, try reading, In the Cement Garden, A Child in Time, Enduring Love and his short stories. I love the way he can tell a story (quite often a horrific one) in such a beautiful and honest way.
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– November 27, 2009 at 10:20 AM
– November 27, 2009 at 10:20 AM
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"The sea rolled and rose so high on their left, and was so near them on their right, that it seemed as if they were traversing its bottom like the Children of Israel. Nothing but the frail bank of pebbles divided them from the raging gulf without, and at every bang of the tide against it the ground shook, the shingle clashed, the spray rose vertically, and was blown over their heads. Quantities of sea- water trickled through the pebble wall, and ran in rivulets across their path to join the sea within. The 'Island' was an island still."
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