7:37 PM 16 JUNE 2017
I have been an admirer of Ian McEwan’s writing style since my introduction to ‘Atonement’ (see earlier review) and when The Times listed him among “The 50 greatest British writers since 1945”, I can plainly see why. By comparison, I was less enamoured by ‘Solar’ (also previously reviewed), but my latest dip into the McEwan listings, the novella, ‘On Chesil Beach’, is in many ways a quite remarkable piece of writing.
Firstly, the book, comprising just 166 pages, split into five parts, is exquisitely crafted. The author’s use of language is concise, but sumptuous and though short, the book packs a complex emotional punch, which the reader shares with newly weds Edward and Florence. From undiluted joy to excruciating despair, the couple’s developing insights are naive and poignant in equal measure and McEwan tackles head-on the nature of intimacy and passion as they nudge towards the consummation of their marriage.
For the bulk of the book, the author succeeds in slowing time, launching back from the wedding day in successive reflections that map the couple’s respective journeys. Each from very different backgrounds, Edward and Florence have managed to rise above the shortcomings of their parentage and by some quirk of serendipity, to find each other, which is of itself heart-warming. Yet, the book exposes potential flaws in the superficial 1960’s courtship ritual and the brittle, untested facade, which they have contrived to create. There is little doubt that they love one another, but is it enough and can they fashion a workable compromise, on which to build a life together?
Perhaps some matches are made in heaven, but to succeed they have to be made to work at the human level. In this frank and at times crude exploration of ‘need’, it seems clear that we can be a fickle bunch, and even among the well-educated, sometimes held hostage to irrational base instincts.
BurfoBookish 