THIS IS LITERALLY THE WORST BOOK I HAVE EVER READ (even worse than Animal Farm, and that's really saying something!)

The entire book is one pretentious middle aged man ignoring everyone else and thinking he knows best (seriously, there is a chapter written from someone elses perspective, but OH WAIT! it isn't her perspective! it's how he imagines her perspective would be because he can't be wrong can he!) and constantly talking in scientific terms that have no relevance to anything that is happening.

One thing happens in the first chapter and the rest of the book is watching this irritating man jumping to conclusions and calling everyone else crazy because they don't believe him  he raids his wife/girlfriend's (they don't really explain the relationship) letters because the only explanation for her not automatically believing him is that she's having an affair. Really dude? That's the ONLY reason she doesn't believe the sun shines out of your arse?

I had to study this for A Level English Literature and I hated every moment. This book is torture.

It is so ridiculous and far fetched; not because of the situation but because of how deluded the main character is.

Towards the end, I couldn't keep it together. I just burst out laughing when  he was told that said wife/girlfriend was being held at knife point by his stalker so he had to run home immediately and what did he do? HE TOOK A FRICKING CRAP WHILST CONTEMPLATING HOW SOIL HOLDS THE MEANING OF LIFE. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried  because it was so utterly ridiculous!

Do not read this is you value literature, as this is an insult to it.

This novel opens with one of the most riveting literary thriller scenes I’ve ever read. It pulled me in and left me with a lump in my throat. I think the opening chapter acts as a perfect trailer for the story. The novel explores the idea that our reliance on one another is at once random and selective, but also uniquely constructed by our own perceptions of others and how we see ourselves. The plot here is simple and yet the psychological and existential explorations are complex, and this one really left me thinking about so much after it was over. I was moved but also satisfied. I think McEwan shows incredible skill at the midway point when he gets his reader seeing something she may not have seen from the start. This is one of those novels that relies on storytelling technique as much as story to enrich the read. I loved it.

Título original: «Enduring Love», tradução de Maria do Carmo Ferreira

«Íamos no sétimo ano de um casamento com muito amor e sem filhos. Clarissa Mellon estava também apaixonada por um outro homem, que não causava grandes problemas, pois estava a aproximar-se o seu 200º aniversário [John Keats]»

Joe e Clarissa viviam com pequenos problemas que em nada ameaçavam as suas existências livres e íntimas, até que um dia, durante um picnic, assistem a um acidente de balão que muda tudo com a morte do piloto, John Logan, um médico, e gera um sentimento de culpa e uma necessidade de encontrar uma explicação.
Assiste ao acidente, em outros, um homem que começa a perseguir Joe com um poder irradiante de amor e piedade:Jed Parry sofre da síndrome de De Clérambault, um caso de erotomania. É um fanático religioso e acredita estar predestinado a viver uma linda história de amor com Joe.

A síndrome de De Clérambault é um distúrbio heterógeno de origem etiológica e um dos primeiros e mais famosos casos descritos foi o de uma francesa de 53 anos que estava convencida de que o rei Jorge V estava apaixonado por ela. Moveu-lhe uma perseguição insistente a partir de 1918, tendo-se deslocado por diversas vezes a Inglaterra.

Um livro metaficcional, difícil de ler (e opinar), um narrador pouco confiável, o já referido Joe, um jornalista especializado em escrever sobre temas científicos em contraste com a religiosidade que Jed Parry lhe pretende incutir. Uma obsessão, uma fixação, uma crítica à negação, «Não há felicidade em toda esta negação.»
A harmonia do nosso casal fica então ameaçada e à beira da ruptura. O amor é uma emoção complexa e, às vezes, pode realmente parecer um fardo quando há, por exemplo, mentiras ou omissões que abalam a estabilidade presente e futura.

Depois de Clarisse escrever uma carta ao marido mostrando o desagrado pela situação, sentimos que o amor necessita de pedidos de perdão mútuos ou, pelo menos, tolerância e compreensão. Joe omite factos à sua mulher enquanto tenta desvencilhar-se de Parry; no limite, compra uma arma.

«Não sei onde isto vai levar-nos. Fomos tão felizes juntos. Vivemos um amor leal e apaixonado. Sempre pensei que o nosso amor estava destinado a durar muito tempo. E talvez dure. Não sei.
Clarisse.»

O livro começa numa praia e termina na margem de um rio «onde Lewis Carrol [esse mesmo!], deão da Igreja de Cristo, tinha outrora albergado os objectos queridos das suas obsessões.»

Aborda a confusão que a análise retrospectiva pode instalar na nossa memória, questiona a possibilidade ou não de uma base genética para a crença religiosa, o Darwinismo, Einstein e a cultura novecentista com o seu espírito amador que alimentou a figura anedótica do cientista. O hábito de contar histórias profundamente enraizado no século XIX mas que as novas teorias científicas alteraram os labirintos da narrativa com e depois de Einstein.

Não estudei ciências exactas pelo que não as entendo. Perdi muito tempo no Google a investigar, por exemplo, a Aritmética Euclidiana, o químico Suiço Friedrich Miescherg «que já em 1892 especulava sobre a possibilidade de o DNA ser o código da vida, tal como o alfabeto é o código da linguagem e dos conceitos.»

Impressionante o que o autor aborda para falar das consequências de um mal-entendido entre um casal. Os nossos irmãos brasileiros traduziram o título para «Amor Para Sempre» e nós, portugueses, «O Fardo do Amor». Pessoalmente, optaria pelo título «O Peso do Amor»

Celeste Corrêa
27.7.2024

A class act.

Prima dell’introduzione delle leggi anti-stalking, il giornalista scientifico Joe Rose viene perseguitato da Jed Parry, un fanatico religioso innamorato di lui. L’insistenza del folle si trasforma nell’ossessione dello stesso Joe, che si fa risucchiare dal vortice della paranoia introiettando il disagio dell’altro. Un po’ scontata ma comunque efficace la dialettica tra l’uomo comune e il suo doppio distorto; ed è solo apparentemente didascalica l’opposizione uomo di fede – uomo di scienza: agli occhi dell'integralista pazzo Jed, Joe è un profano, ma viene considerato tale anche dall’olimpo della “vera” scienza che gli è diventata inaccessibile quando ha scelto di dedicarsi al giornalismo divulgativo. Jed si trasforma nel richiamo delle frustrazioni dell’alter ego Joe, delle sue ambizioni inespresse, dei desideri professionali mai esauditi; è il satanasso cristiano evocato come una punizione divina dalla sua scienza da quattro soldi e dalla sua caparbia cerebralità. E se Joe dovesse alla fine dimostrare la propria ragione, non avrà molta importanza: logica e razionalità non possono salvarlo dall’infelicità, ma solo fare da paravento davanti alla sua umana impotenza.
Evento scatenante dell’azione, la sequenza iniziale descrive un incidente in mongolfiera che si dilata per più capitoli con effetti letterariamente spettacolari. McEwan gioca in quelle pagine con il tempo, a tratti congelato in fermo immagine, incalzando in suspance da un paragrafo all’altro e costruendo l’assetto filosofico del romanzo. “«Come ci racconteremo questa storia?». Dissi: «Abbiamo cercato di renderci utili e non ci siamo riusciti»”. Ed è infatti il fallimento della cooperazione umana che McEwan racconta in modo così vivido: ogni uomo pensa istintivamente a se stesso scollegandosi dal gruppo, al di là della vita e della morte. Quello descritto è un universo dove non esiste nessun dio, ma neanche alcuna vera e propria razionalità. Insomma, nulla a cui appellarsi in modo univoco e che consenta all'uomo di dare ordine al mondo (e soprattutto nulla che lo faccia al posto suo).
Inutile dire che la scrittura di McEwan è come sempre eccezionale.
Da questo romanzo l’omonimo film del 2004 con Daniel Craig.

Before I read (and amused myself by being overly critical about) Saturday by Ian McEwan, I'd also read The Cement Garden, Atonement, The Comfort of Strangers, The Child in Time and On Chesil Beach.
Here are some Ian McEwan statistics based on my own reading habits:

He's written 19 books so far and I've read seven of them which is representative of 36.84% of his total output (I've not included plays or short stories, just novels).

Of these seven books, I have enjoyed four -The Cement Garden, The Comfort of Strangers, On Chesil Beach and this one (oh yes and boo to me for not liking Atonement in either book or film mode) which means that I've got a McEwan enjoyment rating of 57.14% Now given that I am difficult to please, belligerent and bellicose, that is not a bad rating Mr McEwan.

Enduring Love gets a thumbs up (shield your eyes now *spoilers* on the horizon) because the book introduces the two principal characters, Jed and Joe through what has to be the most random event ever used as a literary tool (please chime in on the comments section below if you can think of more random ones). Man falls to death from runaway hot air balloon.... yes, really. How do you come up with that one? Surely as statistically unlikely as man gored to death by very pointy carrot or man squashed by falling chunk of space junk? I did the statistics for the books but I'm not capable of working out the statistical probability of any of the above statements so I won't.

So Joe and Jed meet. Is it love at first sight? Yes but only for one party and the other party is at first blissfully unaware. As admiration and love spiral, ever decreasing circles style, into a tight little ball of obsession we get to follow the two characters who both perceive events in very different ways. None of the characters are particularly loveable or sympathetic to each other, or each others point of view. Mostly you'll find yourself cheering for the underdog.

For the discerning film buff, this was also turned into a movie featuring Daniel Craig and Rhys Ifans. I can't really recommend the film aside from the bit where Daniel Craig gets out of a swimming pool in small pants.

A harmless crank develops a semi-homoerotic obsession towards a failed physicist-turned-science article writer. For no good reason. He supposedly has de Clerambault’s syndrome – a flimsy dysfunction of obsessive love towards someone belonging to a higher social echelon. Basically that’s the whole of McEwan’s Enduring Love.

Elite literary novelist trying a page-turner thriller… meh. Heard so much of the book, but McEwan is also the predictable rule rather than the brilliant exception: while they do often write a good literary novel in a thriller mode or with a thriller-like feel (cue Pamuk’s Snow), I haven’t come across any good full-fledged page-turner by an elite literary novelist I can remember. The plot lacks mass; bits and pieces of this and that and the laughable obsession of de Clerambault syndrome have been packed together, ‘filled’ with McEwanish literary reflections, and stretched in an attempt to turn into a novel. The language is of course as capable as ever, after all it’s McEwan, but for all his refined narrative and fluent narration, the book disappoints.

2.5 inflated to 3 stars.

Ian McEwan has been hit or miss for me so far. I loved Amsterdam. I liked Nutshell. I hated Atonement (the movie was better). Enduring Love is somewhere in the spectrum, neither admired nor detested. Rooted to an intriguing concept, it is engaging. The story and the prose fascinated me enough to complete the book, but it didn't particularly take off into wondrous heights.

The story is about the undoing of a relationship under the pressure applied by a suddenly appearing stranger. The protagonist is a man in his middle ages who makes his living writing scientific articles. He is a failed scientist and constantly wishes to resume his career in real science. His partner is a professor and she's more a sketch than a real person. She is "beautiful" and loves literature and history. She is smart. That is all we hear about her. She doesn't have much of a role to play in the story other than being suspicious of her suddenly manic boyfriend. The story begins with a parachuting accident that marks the beginning of the end of their relationship. Immediately after witnessing a traumatic incident, the husband is stalked and threatened by a religious nut of a stranger. The wife refuses to believe the husband's story, citing lack of clear evidence concerning the stalking. Followed everywhere and distrusted by his wife and the authorities, the husband is pushed over the edge and their relationship is under constant threat. It is eventually revealed to be about a mental condition called de Clerembault’s syndrome. Of all the loves in the book, the love that had to be endured turns out to be the only love that endures.

The protagonist being a scientific writer, the narrative is interspersed with some interesting emotional insights and essays about scientific theories and the lives of scientists. They add spice to the otherwise low-key storyline. The narrative wanders around without any focus, much like the parachute central to this story. Despite the clarity we have about everyone’s perspectives, the novel doesn’t quite reach a level of drama/suspense that it could have. The narrator's consciousness about narrating this story adds a metafictional layer that is abandoned once the stage is set. The story offers some good relationship lessons through the gradual decay of a relationship. It also makes us wonder about the sheer randomness of exhibiting rare mental conditions and the lack of established treatment procedures for those conditions. Also, this was the only book where I've encountered erotomania outside of Hollinghurst's novels (looking at you, Folding Star).

Not bad enough to be endured whilst being not great enough to be enjoyed.

Πρώτο βιβλίο που διαβάζω του Ian McEwan και δηλώνω εντυπωσιασμένη! Το λάτρεψα! Μια σειρά τυχαίων γεγονότων, μπορεί να σου αλλάξει από τη μια στιγμή στην άλλη ολόκληρη τη ζωή. Πολύ έξυπνη σύλληψη και εξαιρετική απόδοση. Γρήγορο, έξυπνο και καλοστημένο σκηνικό και χαρακτήρες. Μπράβο!
Συστήνεται ανεπιφύλακτα!

Joe Rose is spending the afternoon in the park with his longtime girlfriend Clarissa, when his life is changed forever. A hot air balloon carrying a man and his grandson is headed for disaster, and as Joe and several strangers attempt to ground it, one of them is killed. It’s one of the most intense and harrowing openings I’ve ever read.

Following the incident, Joe, who is a staunchly rational science writer, is plagued by the horrible randomness of the tragedy and his involvement in it. Meanwhile, Jed, one of the strangers who participated in the rescue attempt, becomes obsessed with Joe: he’s convinced that they fell in love that day, and that it’s his duty to show Joe God’s love.

As Jed continues to stalk Joe, Joe becomes consumed by paranoia on top of the guilt he feels from that day. It doesn’t help that no one takes his concerns about Jed seriously—including Clarissa.

This is a super compelling read. The prose is gorgeous, and the ongoing analysis of morality, guilt, responsibility and self-preservation is deeply fascinating. In fact, I think this book would have been interesting enough without all the craziness revolving around Jed. Parts of that storyline are certainly interesting, but it becomes slightly over the top.

It’s the subtler parts of the story that are most satisfying—such as Joe’s encounter with the dead man’s wife, who fears he was cheating on her the day he died. There’s a lot of layered complexity throughout as the characters’ perceptions and subjective realities are challenged. In order to convince others, we must first convince ourselves—but to what lengths, and at what cost?

Two stars because the writing itself is very well done and almost beautiful but the main character is so self-involved and thinks that he's the most introspective person in the world that it was very frustrating to read. At the same time, it was short and I wanted to finish it because I wanted to find out how the story played out but I would not reccomend this book to someone.

Joe, un periodista científico cuya formación ha moldeado su forma de ver el mundo, se ve implicado en un trágico accidente de globo aerostático mientras disfrutaba de un picnic con Clarissa. Días después, un hombre llamado Parry que también estuvo implicado en el suceso empieza a acosarle con llamadas, vigila su casa y le interpela en plena calle. Joe no sabe cómo gestionar la persecución que sufre por parte de Parry, a la vez que su relación con Clarissa se tambalea.

La razón que me llevó a leer el libro tiene que ver con las mentalidades de sus protagonistas. Él es científico, analizando cada suceso de forma empírica, y ella se centra en lo artístico, centrada en la emoción pura. Este aspecto no es el fundamental de la novela y siento que hubiera ganado más si se hubiera explotado mejor. Por otro lado, hay que reconocer que el libro tiene un comienzo sensacional que atrapa al lector; sin embargo, es muy subjetivo decir si el resto de la novela está con consonancia, ya que la narración toma un ritmo muy lento a lo largo de los capítulos y se precipita hacia una serie de conclusiones un tanto arriesgadas. No es un mal intento, pero que pocas cosas en la novela presagiaran un cambio de rumbo tan brusco en los acontecimientos le hace perder enteros.