Atonement is a magnificent masterpiece that showcases Ian McEwan’s ability to tell a shattering and sublime story. I re-read this novel when I was casting about for a literary work to satisfying my longing for impeccable prose and a strong storyline. I was amazed at how fresh this story read after a lapse of almost a decade and its ability to hold my interest even though I already knew the story. What is perhaps more gratifying is picking up nuances I had missed in my previous reading. One of the salient discoveries is the potential of the written word or stories for great evil.

Sadly, Atonement is a devastating story about a wrongdoing for which there is no atonement. It is shattering and horrifying because the crime is committed by a 13-year-old girl who is barely out of childhood and ignorant of adult rites and conventions of behavior. She spends an entire lifetime doing penance, seeking forgiveness and trying to atone for her misdeeds.

Briony Tallis, the young protagonist, keeps her drawers neat and locks her diaries; she is a champion of an orderly world, ‘one of those children possessed by a desire to have the world just so.’ What works ironically to Briony’s detriment is her precocious writing talent that is matched only by her fertile imagination. On a hot summer’s day, Briony observes from a distance a flirtatious interaction between Cecilia, her 23-year-old sister, and her Cambridge schoolmate Robbie Turner, their close family friend and son of their charlady. Robbie appears to have put her sister in a compromising position, an observation that upsets Briony’s sense of an orderly world and certainly her expectations of her sister. Two other events, including Robbie’s crude but unintended note to Cecilia that Briony makes it her business to read, are similarly misconstrued. Worse yet, they become material for a new story she is composing in her mind. That summer marks a watershed for Briony who sees herself as stepping away from the world of princesses and castles and being initiated into the strange world of adults, which calls for a new narrative. Subsequently, Briony’s innocent but wrongful appraisal of a social situation leads to a guileless and promising young man being imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. The false charges also cause a prolonged estrangement within the prominent Tallis family. Briony struggles with the certainty of her incriminating testimony, but her youth and urgency to grow up compel her to stick to her version of the truth: ‘It was her own discovery. It was her story, the one that was writing itself around her.’And ‘As far as she was concerned, everything fitted; the terrible present fulfilled the recent past.’ Briony has been unable to distinguish real life from the stories she is writing in her head. The damage, however, is irreparable.

Beyond a personal tragedy, Atonement captures the hypocrisy of life among the upper classes of British society in the 1930s. It also recounts with searing force the carnage of the years leading to World War II. Parts Two and Three which centered on the life of worn out soldiers trudging through the depleted countryside mortally in need of water and food, and of nurses working round the clock to provide care for the wounded are excruciatingly painful to read. McEwan highlights how in such dire circumstances where life seems untenable, humans make resolutions to live differently, aspire to find comfort in the simple and ordinary, and cling onto every shred of hope that provides a reason to live.

As I expected, McEwan provided a reading experience that is totally engrossing and luxurious. His incisive prose lays bare the subtle undercurrents of emotions that are guarded secrets of the characters’ interior life. There are also pages and pages of precise prose that capture a sense of place and time whether it be the gorgeous precincts of the Tallis home in the country, the hostility of beleaguered towns ravaged by war, or a cringe-worthy hospital scene where a blood-soaked bandage is being unraveled. Indisputably, it is writing at its finest. Thank you, Mr. McEwan.

13-year old Briony witnesses something she doesn’t fully understand and so begins a set of circumstances that leads to lifelong consequences that impact on several lives. The novel splits easily into three parts, the main event, its result, and the final atonement, and although I found each part too long and drawn out, I was just about won over by it all the end. It is by no means my favorite McEwan, but it certainly was a worthwhile read.

One of the few examples I can think of where the movie version is just as good as the book - not better, not worse. Whether I watched Atonement, read it, or did both (highly recommended), I was blown away by the sheer amazingness (is that a word? it is now) of Ian McEwan's story.

I'm almost tempted to give the movie preference, because I prefer the screenwriters' ending to McEwan's. That's the only real distinction I make between Atonement, the movie and Atonement, the novel: the end of the movie makes me cry, and the end of the novel does not.

Atonement, Ian McEwan

Atonement is a 2001 British metafiction novel written by Ian McEwan concerning the understanding of and responding to the need for personal atonement.

Set in three time periods, 1935 England, Second World War England and France, and present-day England, it covers an upper-class girl's half-innocent mistake that ruins lives, her adulthood in the shadow of that mistake, and a reflection on the nature of writing.

Abstract: On a summer day in 1935, thirteen-year-old Briony Tallis witnesses a moment's flirtation between her older sister, Cecilia, and Robbie Turner, the son of a servant.

But Briony's incomplete grasp of adult motives and her precocious imagination bring about a crime that will change all their lives, a crime whose repercussions "Atonement" follows through the chaos and carnage of World War II and into the close of the twentieth century.

Characters: Briony Tallis, Emily Tallis, Cecilia Tallis, Leon Tallis, Lola Quincy, Jackson Quincy, Perriot Quincy, Paul Marshall, Robbie Turner.

تاریخ نخستین خوانش: روز سی و یکم ماه مارس سال 2012میلادی

عنوان: «تاوان»؛ اثر: ایان مک اوان؛ مترجم: م‍ص‍طف‍ی‌ م‍ف‍ی‍دی‌؛ نشر تهران، گام نو‫، 1389، در 480ص؛ شابک 9789646917446؛ ‏چاپ دیگر: تهران، نیلوفر؛ 1390، در 437ص؛ شابک 9789644485213؛ موضوع: داستان‌های نویسندگان بریتانیا - سده 20م

رویدادهای «تاوان»، در سال‌های پس از جنگ جهانی دوم سپری، و در این میان به یادمانهای سال‌های جنگ نیز می‌پردازد؛ فيلمنامه «تاوان» را «کریستوفر همپتون»، از همین رمان به قلم «ايان مک اوان»، اقتباس کرده، رمانی که در سال 2001میلادی منتشر شد، و پس از قرار گرفتن در لیست پرفروشترینهای آن روز، به منزلت «مک اوان» افزود، و وی را در کنار «مارتین امیس» و «جولین بارنز»، به عنوان یکی از سه رمان نویس برتر، و زنده ی اهل «بریتانیا»، به خوانشگران شناساند

داستان دارای سه بخش است؛

بخش نخست بلندترین بخش داستان است، این بخش خانواده ی اشرافی «تالیس» را، در سال 1935میلادی نشانه رفته؛ توسط «براینی»، دختر سیزده ساله ی خانواده، که عاشق نویسندگی است، بازگویی میشود؛ این خانواده در انتظار رسیدن پسر خانواده یعنی «لئون»، و دوست او «مارشال» هستند؛ «براینی» برای پیشواز از برادرش، میخواهد نمایشنامه ای که خود آن را نگاشته، به همراه پسرعموها و دخترعموها اجرا کنند؛ او برای علاقه به داستان همگی رویدادهای پیرامون خود را با توجه به خیال خویش بازگو میکند

بخش دوم، در سال 1940میلادی، «رابی» با شهادت «براینی»، پس از سه سال، از زندان به شرط شرکت در جنگ، آزاد شده است؛ «سیسیلیا» دوره ی پرستاری را بگذرانده، و با خانواده خود رابطه ی خود را بریده است، این دو از راه نامه با یکدیگر در تماس هستند و «سیسیلیا» به «رابی» قول داده، در انتظار او بماند؛ در یایان این بخش «رابی» به همراه ارتش در «دانکرک» گرفتار شده، و دلمشغول عقب نشینی هستند

بخش سوم داستان، «براینی» در حال گذراندن دوره پرستاری، در بیمارستانی در «لندن» است؛ او حالا دریافته که «رابی» به دخترعمویش تجاوز کرده، و برای شهادت اشتباه خود، دچار عذاب وجدان شده است؛ از این روی تحصیل در دانشگاه را رها، و به تاوان اشتباهش پرستار شده؛ او در انتهای این بخش «رابی» و «سیسیلیا» را میبیند، که کنار یکدیگر زندگی میکنند، و به آنها قول میدهد که به جبران اشتباهی که مرتکب شده، به نزد خانواده برود، و شهادت خود را پس بگیرد؛ اما در پایان، داستان به گونه دیگری پیش میرود، و خوانشگر را شگفت زده میکند

تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 15/07/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 04/06/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی

Perfecto… simplemente perfecto. Ni siquiera sé cómo armar mi reseña de tal forma de transmitir todo lo que me ha provocado este libro, pero vamos a intentarlo.

En primer lugar, la prosa de Ian McEwan es bellísima, te seduce y te transporta con sus descripciones a cada uno de los lugares que utiliza como telón de fondo, te mete en la mente de sus complejos personajes de tal forma que es imposible no comprender (no necesariamente justificar) su comportamiento y su actuar en cada una de las situaciones que se presentan. La cantidad de interpretaciones que es posible hacer es enorme, y tengo certeza de que aumentarían con futuras relecturas.

La estructura de la novela no es convencional; se divide en tres partes y un epílogo, separadas entre sí por diferentes períodos de tiempo y distintos escenarios. Se caracterizan porque todas transcurren en apenas dos días, salvo la tercera, aunque el nudo de lo que cuenta también transcurre en dos días. A pesar de lo anterior, el relato está tan bien armado que en cada parte es posible expandir los hechos para obtener un panorama completo de todas las aristas que rodean el conflicto principal: una mentira y sus terribles consecuencias, algo impensable e irreparable que destruyó el destino de personas queridas. Una muestra de cómo nuestros actos a veces afectan la vida de los demás de manera que no alcanzamos siquiera a imaginar.

Otra sensación que me deja es cómo pequeñas cosas o decisiones pueden tener repercusiones tan devastadoras. Me quedo con un montón de ¿y si no?: y si Robbie no hubiera escrito la carta, y si no lo hubieran invitado a cenar, y si no se hubiera suspendido la representación de la obra, y si los primos no hubieran realizado su travesura......

El epílogo es de lujo y da un giro completo a lo leído en las dos últimas partes, justificando completamente el título de esta obra maestra: la verdadera expiación de Briony Tallis.

n  Reto #42 PopSugar 2019: Dos libros que compartan el mismo título (1)n

How is it that every one of you has always strong, must-be-said-at-all-cost, life-changing opinions about every single book ever written, but nobody, NOBODY, told me a word about how much this book will have wrecked me?
Because I was so close to putting this thing back on the shelf, and I can't believe I’d have missed crying in my room, in the dark, at 2 a.m. on a weekday. You guys didn't want me to have fun!

It's so poetic when you finish a book and then proceed to describe all the shades of your sorrow, but sometimes being sad is not enough.
I'm desperate. Hitting-the-wall-with-my-head, pulling-my-hair, screaming-all-the-air-in-my-lungs type of desperation.
And angry. Oh, making me read a book without a purpose is in my top 5 of the most dangerous things to do to me if you want to be hit. Like, what is wrong with you? Who hurt you when you were a child? What have I done to you to deserve this pain?
And for those of you who think I'm dramatic, why don't you try reading a very much annoying story, just for it to develop into one of the most traumatizing love stories you've ever read?

Four parts, four stages of life, four ways in which Ian McEwan proves to be an amazing writer.
I feel I'm out of my comfort zone with this book, this is a proper adult book - even if I’m kind of one -, so there's no need for me to tell you how good McEwan is just by making you want to punch a kid and cry your heart out in a matter of pages.
But if you feel demotivated and you're trying to figure out why so many people read this story, let me tell you there's a reason. Just trust the process.

Do I want to watch the movie now? No.
Do I need to watch it? Yes. That green dress is being hunting me since the library scene, and I just know I didn't make it right with my imagination. Why be happy when you can be miserable?

↠ 4 stars

Read as part of The Infinite Variety Reading Challenge, based on the BBC's Big Read Poll of 2003.

n  The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse.n

In the heat of a 1930s Summer, a family reunites at their country home for what may be the last time. Cousins have come to stay, a sister has returned from University and a brother is returning from America with a new friend in tow. Briony, the only child left at home, is furiously writing a play to be performed, but what she witnesses-and is exposed to-will force her to make a decision that she will regret for the rest of her life.

This book reminded me strongly of Evelyn Waugh, though I think that's purely based on the surroundings and era (and mostly the house). Whilst Evelyn had a whimsical style to his writing, Ian McEwan is positively overflowing with flowery prose that leads nowhere and brings up memories of terrible books they made me read for college.

Atonement is a relatively easy read, if you can take so much description and little plot. None of the characters are anything except a piece of personality and don't go beyond their one trait and I felt nothing for all of them. They all had their one job and, whilst they did this one job well, that was that and there seemed nothing beyond their doing their one job.

We begin in a wonderful countryside house, which is described to death and the plot simmers along nicely. There's a play being written, and the cousins coming down from the North are being forced to act it out. There is youthful petulance, coming-of-age rebellion and adults avoiding responsibility and, in truth, the scene is set nicely in the first few pages. But then this setting of the scene continues for around half the rest of the book and it soon becomes clear that the plot is far away and we're not entirely sure if it'll be seen at all.

Setting the book during the war seemed like a pointless endeavour, if only to include some kind of treacherous battle scenes to add to the overall lack of drama up to this point. I suppose the book needed to be set somewhere and some time, but the overall affect was unimpressive. I found the whole thing lacking, in truth. The book, whilst it shifted to another city and even country, was just too small. Everything was cloying and felt like it was happening in one tiny bubble. I prefer big worlds and big plots, not just a single thread moving through a mire.

The main thing that irritated me about this book, is that it was full of needless cliffhangers that were seemingly pointless to anything except to expunge the pathetic attempt at a plot beyond the story arc. Nearly every chapter ended with something along the lines of "and oh my if this character hadn't done what he's about to do in the next chapter then his life would not have turned out the way it did", as if McEwan is unsure of his plot and needs to plead with us to keep reading. "What, what Ian, what's going to happen? I must must must read on if you say something interesting is coming along, because so far we haven't had much, have we, Sir?"

I am grateful, however, at the vague pleasure I got from the book as I read it that kindled within me a notion of the kinds of books I do and do not like. I feel, having read this book, that I could spot a book I dislike from the first few pages now, whereas before I'd probably have to get through it all just to know. So, of course, I will now not be wasting more hours on books that seemingly go nowhere, even after the first half, than I need to.

It seems either you hate this book or you love it. My rating of one star shows where I stand. I completely respect others who think differently from me.

The book annoyed me from start to finish. I was annoyed by
- the behavior of the upper-crust British family about which the story revolves.
- the absence of details concerning the trial.
- the excruciating description of body injuries in the war scenes.
- the melodrama of Briony's impending death.
- the ending which diverts into a discussion of how the novel should conclude.
- the posh, wordy writing style.
- the fact that Briony thought she could attain atonement through a novel.

It is very hard to discuss the above points without revealing the events of the story. Underlying my dislike of the book is the absurdity of the notion that the words of a thirteen-year-old child are taken as proof for a verdict. Children make errors. They cannot and should not be expected to fully understand the adult world around them. Much more attention should have been focused on others' guilt.

This is a love story, a war story, a book about what can be achieved through a novel, and of course about how to make amends. Can one atone for one's mistakes? Of course one cannot always do that! Life is like that.

I do think the author accurately depicts the upper-crust British lifestyle between the wars and the horrid reality of war. Yet for me the writing was too melodramatic and too florid. I dislike haughty wording. I prefer a more simple style. This is a matter of taste, but I believe if the wording annoys you every step of the way you will have difficulty enjoying the novel.

I did smile sometimes at the imagination, passion and precocity of the young Briony.

One word about the audiobook narration by Carol Boyd. She is easy to follow, but the text itself can be confusing to hear rather than read. I had to re-listen to sections to make sure I understood whose thoughts or words were being expressed. This is in no way the fault of the narrator.

Is there word beyond 'amazing' that I can use? Some word beyond 'enthralling'? I need them. I'm reaching for them. But I literally just finished the book and I'm so much in awe of it I just can't. It's perfect. It's perfect in every image and line and mirror and echo. Ian McEwan is such a master of language and storycraft.

I devoured this book in a day. Less than a day. Ignoring all other work to do so. And it was TOTALLY worth it.

I can't think of what to praise first this point, so I'm going to go in random order. I'll start with the language. It's enthralling. It's that that draws you into the story. The story moves rather slowly, really. Half of the book takes place on a single day. But it is the language that makes you not care. The wordchoice is enchanting, just so. Gorgeous imagery interposed with just the right touch of magic to keep it beautifully fresh. He weaves his images throughout the text, having them pop up again and again, subtly. For instance, a pair of boy's pajamas becomes a symbol of war and horror as well as innocence ruined and then vague oppression and doubt renewed throughout the novel. A finger becomes a sense of self and changed identity at various points. It's just gorgeously done.

The storycraft is so perfect too. I love how he chooses to do it, switching from perspective to perspective, but always with the center on this delusional little girl, and the echoes of her own storymaking. It is story that screws over them all in the end. But it is story that resurrects them too. I loved his inward musings on writing, and his critique of his own writing within the text. It's a bit of a breaking of the fourth wall that's done with a rather sad irony, but it still brought a smile to my face.

I really enjoyed the themes that he explored too. Eventually I'll post some of my favorite quotes to give an idea of the beauty of the language and ideas that he explores as well, but in general... I think my favorite idea that he dealt with was the idea of order as a kind of childishness. As a kind of little, small denial of the world. The entire book shows the folly of order and what it does to our souls and minds. (quotes to come on this). I also loved his treatment of the all consuming nature of guilt. Atonement. Atonement indeed.

Amazing. I cannot recommend this enough.

There are many reviews already of this book, and I did wonder whether the world needed any more. But I disagree so strongly with some of the opinions expressed that I'm afraid I have to exercise my right to reply. Two things in particular stand out.

Let me deal with the simpler one first. Some people seem appalled that the author is putting the guilt for this dreadful tragedy on the shoulders of a young girl. She didn't know what she was doing, they say; she was too young to understand the import of her actions, and we shouldn't hold her responsible. Well, it seems to me that this is completely beside the point. The novel, we finally learn, has been written by the girl herself. She's giving herself the blame for what happened. She's evidently spent her whole life wondering why she behaved the way she did, and she still doesn't really know. She's just trying to get the story as straight as she can, mainly so that she can understand it herself, and I found her efforts extremely moving. If anyone is claiming that people don't behave this way, all I can say is that their view of human nature is so different from mine that it'll be hard to have a meaningful conversation on the subject.

So now the second and more controversial part. Many reviewers dislike the post-modernist aspects. They complain that McEwan is taking a perverse pleasure in tricking the reader into a view of the story which is finally revealed as incorrect; that he's playing the unreliable narrator card out of sheer willfulness. Again, I completely disagree. I don't think these aspects of the book are irrelevant or peripheral; I think they're at the very core of it, and are what make it a great piece of literature. McEwan shows us a girl who becomes an author precisely because she wants to expiate the dreadful feelings of guilt she has suffered all her life. He lets her explain how it happened, in what we eventually discover is a book within a book. And the truly awful thing is that she can't do it. She cops out with a fake happy ending, because she still can't face what she did.

I don't think this is a trick; I think he's saying something about the very nature of writing. Many, many writers are like Briony. They write to absolve themselves of their guilt, but in the end they don't say what they want to say. It's too horrible to write down. They skirt around the issues, and end up presenting them in a more favourable light. If they're lucky, they may finally reach an age when they are so far removed from what happened that they can tell the story straight. This is what Briony does in the postscript, and I don't find it far-fetched. To take just one example, the first I happen to think of, look at Marguerite Duras. All her life, she kept thinking about her first love affair, and it coloured most of what she wrote. It was only when she was nearly 70 that she could set it down as L'Amant.

Before the events of the fountain, Briony was indeed just a little girl; all she could write was the amusingly mediocre Arabella. Afterwards, she had something that was worth saying, though it took a long time to figure out how to do that. When she'd completed her task, she was able to get back to the one she was engaged in when she was interrupted: I love the circular structure, which ends with Arabella being staged 60 years late. Of the many infuriating changes in the movie version, I think I was most annoyed by the removal of this key scene.

Wood burns, observes Monty Python's logician, as he gives an example of an incorrect syllogism; therefore, all that burns is wood. Similarly, the fact that much trickery is post-modern does not imply that all post-modernism is trickery. This is a great and heart-felt novel.

O fată de 13 ani, Briony Tallis, comite un păcat: mărturisește strîmb la un proces (vrea să se înșele și e ajutată să se înșele). Din cauza ei un tînăr, Robbie Turner, ajunge în închisoare (deși nu are nici o vină) și, de acolo, în război unde este rănit, face o septicemie și moare / nu moare. Briony distruge viața tînărului și pe a surorii sale, Cecilia. Își înțelege într-un tîrziu greșeala: nu există cale de întoarcere, timpul nu poate fi dat înapoi. Nimeni nu e în stare să rescrie istoria, nici măcar Dumnezeu. Pentru fapta ei, nu există iertare. Își va alege singură pedeapsa. Și va ispăși. Se angajează într-un spital ca infirmieră și îngrijește răniții. Povestea e captivantă prin dezbaterea morală.

Din păcate, Ian McEvan s-a gîndit să complice trama romanului, sugerînd în Epilog (cînd Briony e bătrînă și în pragul sfîrșitului) că, de fapt, povestea nu-i aparține. A fost redactată de Briony Tallis și tot ce am citit ține de pura ei imaginație. Nimic nu s-a petrecut întocmai. Briony a propus o istorie posibilă. Dar întîmplările și deznodămîntul ar fi putut fi diferite. Dacă ar fi vrut, l-ar fi salvat pe Robbie Turner și l-ar fi căsătorit cu Cecilia (cei doi ar fi trăit fericiți pînă la adînci bătrîneți). În definitiv, istoria poate fi rescrisă. Și poate fi rescrisă, după voie și plac, pentru că e o fantezie a lui Briony. Ian McEwan e doar un editor.

Ceea ce nu mi-a plăcut în Ispășire, pentru că e un truc narativ uzat, a fost tocmai discuția din final despre relația dintre adevăr și ficțiune. Trucul e vechi, mai vechi decît Gide cu Falsificatorii de bani, mai vechi decît Laurence Sterne. L-am întîlnit și în Schimb de dame de David Lodge. Naratorul ne trage de mînecă și ne spune ironic-batjocoritor: „Asta e invenția mea și, dacă am chef, pot s-o modific cînd vreau. Nu vă lăsați mințiți, e vorba pur și simplu de o farsă”.

Trucul menționat mai sus contrazice principiul exprimat, în 1817, de Samuel Taylor Coleridge prin expresia „suspension of disbelief”: suspendarea neîncrederii. În timpul lecturii, între povestitor și cititor se instituie un pact: povestitorul narează o întîmplare (sau un șir de întîmplări) și cititorul îl crede pe cuvînt. Povestitorul încearcă de la început și pînă în final să fie verosimil. Prozatorii din anii 70 și 80 ai secolului trecut au încălcat sistematic pactul și au introdus naratori, personaje, mesageri care atrag atenția cititorului (cînd îi e lumea mai dragă) că e vorba, în realitate, de o simplă ficțiune și că nu trebuie să se lase amăgit.

Nu știu alții cum gîndesc, dar eu simt că un astfel de avertisment îmi știrbește plăcerea lecturii. Cînd parcurg un roman (deși sînt perfect conștient că este o ficțiune, ceva imaginar), vreau să fiu mințit. Nu am nevoie de „un outsider” care să-mi semnaleze, din 5 în 5 pagini, faptul că citesc o poveste inventată, care s-ar putea desfășura și altfel...

Un mic extras: „Știu că există un tip de cititor care nu poate răbda să nu întrebe: dar ce s-a întîmplat cu adevărat?... Cum poate romanciera să dobîndească mîntuirea cînd, cu puterea ei absolută de a decide finalurile, ea este și Dumnezeu?... Nu există nimic în afara ei. Ea a stabilit, prin puterea imaginației, limitele și termenii” (p.426).

P. S. Cu ani în urmă, The Guardian a făcut o anchetă literară la care a convocat 150 de „judecători” înțelepți (scriitori, academici, critici literari). Redactorii publicației i-au întrebat neted care e cel mai bun roman scris în engleză în intervalul 1980 - 2005. Pe listă n-au intrat prozatorii americani, pentru că ei participaseră deja la o anchetă similară, inițiată de The New York Times (ceva mai devreme) unde ieșise biruitoare, nu mă îndoiesc că știți, Toni Morrison cu The Beloved (Multiubita, Preaiubita), roman tradus acum cîțiva ani la Editura ART. Deci, The Guardian a inițiat o anchetă separată pentru prozatorii de limbă engleză non-americani. Ierarhia a fost următoarea. Pe primul loc s-a situat sud-africanul J. M. Coetzee cu romanul Disgrace (Dezonoare). Un roman bun, dar care nu m-a strivit. Pe locul doi a ajuns, prin voința înțelepților, Martin Amis sau, mai precis, romanul lui, Banii. Al treilea a ieșit Ian McEvan cu Atonement.

Wow.

Virginia Woolf.
La guerra.
L’infermiera.
L’Espiazione.

Quattro voci, quattro toni, quattro storie, che si fondono in un’unica massa di emozioni potentissime.

Non sarò mai capace di condensare ciò che il libro mi ha trasmesso. L’ho iniziato ad amare dalle primissime pagine, da quando ho capito che lo stile narrativo era vicinissimo a quello della Woolf. Il libro di è incanalato nei miei pensieri, mi ha fatto amare i personaggi e me li ha fatti rivalutare continuamente, travolgendo la prima impressione che avevo avuto. Se non è maestria questa... Un McEwan magistrale. Davvero.

Un piccolo cosmo di emozioni e sensazioni che si aprono agli occhi del lettore. Ero una lettrice ignara (del libro) prima di fiondarsi nelle sue pagine: è stato un bene, ho bevuto ogni parola ed ogni frase. Magnifico.