Generally, if a novel takes me two days to finish, it's pretty good. Having to pause several times because of information overload has become the high point of my reading. My only regret is that I saw Atonement before actually reading the book, which spoiled some of its effect. When I saw the movie, the lushness of the scenery and the wealth of emotion and talent was really amazing. But it's all nothing compared to the book. I would have loved to read the book without knowing the plot and some of the driving forces, but it was still amazing.
The entire book is very organic. The plot is important, but what's much more important are the characters and the picture of humanity that they present. McEwan delves deeply into the psyche of his characters, their weaknesses and penchant for seeing things through tinted spheres, sometimes disaster. He's able to capture awkwardness, hope, love, and wanting all at once. It's very difficult to write beautiful scenes between awkward people. Everything is so real and vivid. His characters are more four dimensional than three dimensional, with a clear sense of time.
Much of McEwan's virtuosity lies in his spotless transition between characters and through time. Everything gently rolls along, like one wave pushing itself continuously and constantly towards the shore. Even when the passages seem rambling, each sentence is carefully weighed and set down inexorably in its surrounding cocoon of prose. However, what McEwan really excells at is his command of the English language. His descriptions take on emotions of their own: lush and languid, or crisp and terse. The first half of the book is prodigious in its sheer depiction of the richness and decay of the English countryside, and by extension, English culture. The second half has some of the best descriptions of war that I've ever read. I know that many critics have commented on the realism that McEwan endows onto his wounded soldiers and civilians, but I seriously had to stop eating when I was reading some parts. McEwan's playing with us here, showing that he can write just as well about men with halves of their faces blown off as carpets of flowers being crushed underfoot and clear mossy lakes.
It's not a coincidence that my two favorite books of this summer are Atonement and An Equal Music. Both books are a study in virtuosity, self-conscious cleverness, a dash of elitism, and an absolute command of the English language. Like An Equal Music, Atonement is almost lyrical in its quality. Unlike Seth, McEwan chooses to economize on his dialogue and relies heavily on exposition. An Equal Music is a much neater package than Atonement, but isn't as gut wrenching.
My only dissatisfaction with Atonement is the character Briony. She's developed extremely well, but so unsympathetic up to the end. This is where seeing the movie first may have seriously biased me while reading the book. For me, Briony never atones and remains cowardly towards the end (I suppose that's what McEwan means to say). Throughout the book, I couldn't even find a shred of sympathy for her. How could she possibly be so unfeeling? I felt that her character was a bit inconsistent. Although she's seriously warped by her fairytale mind, she's not unkind to others and does feel for them. How could she be so selfish and puerile to not even try to remedy what she did? Briony would have been more convincing for me if she had been ten rather than thirteen. I also had the same problem in the movie. What's more, she first leads the people around her into tragedy by utilizing her imagination, then she uses that same imagination as a means of self-expression and fame later in her life. It's a bit hard to stomach and inexcusable (for me).
Fantasy and reality are interwoven in my life at times as well, and that's perhaps why I'm extremely harsh on Briony. Unlike Briony, I can separate it all out and shoulder what blame I do deserve. I cannot believe that she doesn't even understand that she told a lie years after the fact. That's just ridiculous. What really irks me is that Briony doesn't take responsibility in reality and she's somewhat redeemed because she happens to be so good at her fantasy life that she can become a successful novelist. I think that having an overactive imagination is bad even when you don't cause mayhem in other people's lives, because it destroys your own. Refusing to acknowledge reality and letting the imaginary take over is inexcusable, and no atonement will ever suffice.
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