Atonement
Ian McEwan
I feel like I'm not up to the task of reviewing this book. I finished it yesterday and I'm still digesting it. This is a book not to be taken lightly, and it has as much to say about the writing of literature as it does about its story. This initially frustrated me, and I kept silently urging McEwan to press forward with the plot already. The central conflict in the book isn't even introduced until the first section is mostly past, and while the writing is always brilliant and evocative, the plot is constantly bogged down by incessant detail. What is most interesting, however, is the fact that this minor oversight, if we can call it that, doesn't matter at all by the end of the book and in fact enhances its rhetorical power. This book is much more than the story it contains; it is really a speculative treatise on the art and power of writing.
I should have seen it coming. It's right there on page 35, in a quote I mentally siphoned off: the writer of novels has the power to communicate as if telepathically with their reader. The ink is a direct medium between the two individuals, and the author's vision is realized on the page, becoming a kind of truth. What happens, however, when the truth of the fictional world is muddled by a fictional author? Atonement not only begs the question inside its fictional world but transcends that world to bring the issue directly to its readers. McEwan and his vision hang over the novel, standing aside bemused as it smacks the reader minutes after putting it down. Atonement is a powerfully written book about the terrible power of words, and their limitations. The book forces us to ask ourselves how atonement can be reached, and if our feeble gasps of apology can ever be enough. It is a self-conscious work, but McEwan's lingering smirks only add to the charm of the book.
This has been purposefully vague and probably mostly unhelpful, but I cannot encourage you enough to read this book. The novel gets exponentially better with every minute that passes since the pages are set aside and the ideas left to simmer. The words themselves are evocative and elegant, paying excellent tribute to a time of grace that has disappeared behind the commercial value of the estates of the rich and powerful. The book contains some of the most painful war writing I've ever encountered, with vivid imagery that never ceases to shock or utterly stun. Atonement is a perfect book for a reading group. I feel that it is so hard to do justice to its genius alone here, speaking to and not with my own readers. If you're feeling at all contemplative about the nature and value of literature or even the power of art in general, Atonement will nudge you in interesting directions you hadn't considered before.
Grade: A
Ian McEwan
I feel like I'm not up to the task of reviewing this book. I finished it yesterday and I'm still digesting it. This is a book not to be taken lightly, and it has as much to say about the writing of literature as it does about its story. This initially frustrated me, and I kept silently urging McEwan to press forward with the plot already. The central conflict in the book isn't even introduced until the first section is mostly past, and while the writing is always brilliant and evocative, the plot is constantly bogged down by incessant detail. What is most interesting, however, is the fact that this minor oversight, if we can call it that, doesn't matter at all by the end of the book and in fact enhances its rhetorical power. This book is much more than the story it contains; it is really a speculative treatise on the art and power of writing.
I should have seen it coming. It's right there on page 35, in a quote I mentally siphoned off: the writer of novels has the power to communicate as if telepathically with their reader. The ink is a direct medium between the two individuals, and the author's vision is realized on the page, becoming a kind of truth. What happens, however, when the truth of the fictional world is muddled by a fictional author? Atonement not only begs the question inside its fictional world but transcends that world to bring the issue directly to its readers. McEwan and his vision hang over the novel, standing aside bemused as it smacks the reader minutes after putting it down. Atonement is a powerfully written book about the terrible power of words, and their limitations. The book forces us to ask ourselves how atonement can be reached, and if our feeble gasps of apology can ever be enough. It is a self-conscious work, but McEwan's lingering smirks only add to the charm of the book.
This has been purposefully vague and probably mostly unhelpful, but I cannot encourage you enough to read this book. The novel gets exponentially better with every minute that passes since the pages are set aside and the ideas left to simmer. The words themselves are evocative and elegant, paying excellent tribute to a time of grace that has disappeared behind the commercial value of the estates of the rich and powerful. The book contains some of the most painful war writing I've ever encountered, with vivid imagery that never ceases to shock or utterly stun. Atonement is a perfect book for a reading group. I feel that it is so hard to do justice to its genius alone here, speaking to and not with my own readers. If you're feeling at all contemplative about the nature and value of literature or even the power of art in general, Atonement will nudge you in interesting directions you hadn't considered before.
Grade: A
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