n  “I just wanted you to know, I understand what you’re feeling. I feel it too. I love you.”n

If those words sound sweet or romantic to you, read this book and they will take on a whole new meaning. This is the uniquely articulated story of what unfolds after a tragic hot-air balloon accident, during which a man is killed. It starts with one moment, one look. No turning back.

I found this to be an interesting, layered, and compelling read. Bordering on thrilling, but for the more intricate language and thought processes involved throughout… not easy or fast enough to be a thriller. The overall tone is actually kind of ethereal, colored with themes of isolation, loneliness, and paranoia, it’s just the kind of thing to make you wonder who you can trust, what you really know.

Ian McEwan doesn’t write for a simple, quick read. During the telling of the story, there are brief but regular forays into scientific and philosophical subjects which are of interest to the main character. Some of these explorations are in sync with the storyline and some take you elsewhere, but it seemed to work for me and it helped me get to know Joe’s character a little better. I am finding a solid appreciation for the indirect way in which this author conveys his story.

The subject of Enduring Love is something that I’d never heard of before but nonetheless was a fascinating basis for the events that occurred after the accident. I don’t want to specifically name it, because I want other readers to wonder and obsess just like I did… about why? And what the actual f**k??

【｡_｡】 #enduringlove 【｡_｡】
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Can this author really be the same man who wrote Atonement? I have now read enough of his books to know there is a range from horrid to sublime and a bit of everything in between, and this one is the in between.

I hated the first half and almost tossed it in. I didn’t for the obvious reason, I wanted to know which of the two scenarios was right, who was the crazy man here? In the end, I realized, it didn’t really matter if Joe was right or wrong, he was still unbalanced, and he was still a very unreliable narrator. What was most frustrating was that for all the elevated subject matter and intellectual writing, there was nothing greater than “story” here for me.

There is something at the heart of this book that repelled me. Perhaps it was the treatment of God and faith. I believe; and I find it sad that anyone’s belief would be ridiculed or mocked, and, notwithstanding the obvious element of insanity attributed to Jed Parry, I found McEwan’s treatment of the topic hostile and mocking in nature.

I have two other McEwan books sitting on my library bookshelves. I think they will go with me on my next trip to the used book store and I can lighten my TBR by two books. I don’t see me ever cracking a McEwan bookcover again. I am so glad I started with Atonement, because had I read these others first, I would never have gotten there.

This is the first Ian McEwan I ever read and it turned me into a lifelong fan. The opening chapter has stayed with me for years.

Amore autistico. Un ossimòro, una contraddizione. L’innamoramento amplifica la percezione dei desideri, addirittura dei pensieri dell’amato; l’innamorato è come una porta spalancata al suo amore, desideroso soltanto di accoglierlo e fondersi in esso.
Questo libro narra invece un “amore autistico”, una patologia, non saprei in quale altro modo chiamare l’ossessione morbosa e sterile di una persona verso l’altra. Sterile perché non genera vita, ma morte, sia in colui che vive la passione malata, sia nella vittima. La vita della vittima subisce non solo stress e traumi, ma vere e proprie menomazioni psicologiche. Nel leggere la lettera finale che il carnefice scrive, con lucida follia, alla sua ossessione, mi sono interrogata insieme con McEwan su quanto sia tenue il confine tra amore sano e amore malato, tra innamoramento e ossessione e come sia “facile” travalicarlo, o forse questo confine non esiste affatto.
E McEwan è una ruspa: scava, scava nei gesti, nelle azioni, nei pensieri del protagonista, con una scrittura deliziosa, che già conoscevo dopo aver letto “espiazione”.
Gli do quattro stelle, perché :1) Mc Ewan è riuscito a trasformare un forse banale caso patologico, inquadrabile giuridicamente nella fattispecie di reato prevista e punita dall’art. 612 bis del codice penale italiano, in un romanzo accattivante e coinvolgente; 2) perché è uno scrittore così grande che è stato capace di portarmi fino a poche pagine dalla fine con addirittura due possibili finali in mente, che ho scartato l’uno dopo l’altro leggendo le ultime righe del libro.

Een oudere Ian McEwan en een slechte. Afgaand op de achterflap zou het een mysterieus en spannend boek moeten zijn, over een obsessief verliefde stalker, mét godswanen. Helaas. Saai, vervelend, dor, onaantrekkelijk geschreven. Op een bepaald moment, en nu verklap ik een van de hoofddetails, stuurt de stalker huurmoordenaars af op de geliefde omdat hij zijn gevoelens niet beantwoordt. De geliefde zit lekker te eten in een restaurant. Huurmoordenaars vergissen zich en vermoorden de man aan de tafel ernaast.... Terwijl ik het aan het lezen was, kon ik een geeuw niet onderdrukken. Gelukkig evolueren schrijvers. De laatste van zijn boeken zijn wel goed. Dit boek gaat regelrecht naar de ramsj.

Even though I liked much of Choupette's review this morning, I disagreed with her conclusions... so, although I'm clearly in the minority here, let me present my take. Choupette starts off by observing

really what the book is about is the conflict between a way of thinking based on logical scientific reasoning and one based on emotions. Literature, versus science: "Do the scientific illiterates who run the National Library really believe that literature is mankind's greatest achievement?" (or something to that effect), the protagonist is heard to say on one occasion. A provocative statement, Mr. McEwan.

It is indeed provocative, and I also think it's at the heart of what the book is about. To me, however, the passage is intended to be deeply ironic. The hero, Joe, is a science journalist, and embodies a world-view arranged around a rather facile interpretation of science. Note that he isn't a real scientist; at one point he tries to get back into the world of scientific research, and is politely but firmly told that he's missed the boat.

Through no fault of his own, Joe is placed in a bizarre situation where, for reasons he doesn't understand, he discovers he's being stalked by a deranged individual. The stalker is cunning, and Joe is the only person who has clear evidence that anything is happening. In particular, his girlfriend, Clarissa, has never seen the stalker and wonders if he actually exists. This places great strain on her relationship with the hero. Clarissa is presented as being intellectually Joes's opposite; her passion is literature, in particular the poetry of Keats.

I thought the development was logical and compelling. Joe does some clever detective work. He figures out who the stalker is and why he's doing it. He realises that the man is genuinely dangerous, and intervenes just in time to save Clarissa's life. But he completely misses the emotional realities of the situation. He's so focussed on solving the technical problem that he doesn't see he's destroying his relationship with the person he loves. Indeed, he blames her for not understanding him or his point of view, when it's blatantly obvious that he's misunderstanding her at least as badly.

Most of the story is presented in a one-sided way, though Joe's eyes, and it's easy to be tricked into believing that the narrator's and the author's viewpoints coincide. I think that's too simple an interpretation. As the story progressed, I found myself paying more and more attention to Clarissa, and wishing that Joe would do the same; I'm pretty sure the author was nudging me in that direction. It's a subtle and humane book. Well done, Mr. McEwan.

Only my second McEwan - after "Atonement" - but two in is enough for me to proclaim him a master. His writing is the love-child of Stephen King, Philip Roth, and Norman Rush (the parentage is as complicated as picturing that trinity of lovers having a go) and I am here for it. The psychological intensity here, of Joe and Clarissa's relationship, was as penetrating and insightful as Rush's "Mortals," while the propulsive style called to mind your pick of King. Finally, the sentence structure and professional beauty of the writing was pure Roth. The ending was a bit tidy but ultimately, it didn't matter because the meat of "Ending Love" was in the contrasts, the way that people see and remember through tainted lenses
Loved this book, love McEwan

O inglês Ian McEwan (n. 1948) é um dos meus escritores de referência e “O Fardo do Amor” (1997) foi a minha décima terceira leitura do conjunto da sua obra literária - que revelam uma enorme criatividade e alguma controvérsia, quase sempre valorizada pelo público e pela crítica, e que invariavelmente se reflecte nos inúmeros prémios literários recebidos.
Num campo agrícola e no meio de um relvado fresco e primaveril, há um enorme balão de ar quente. Nesse balão e no interior do cesto está uma criança de dez anos de idade. Junto ao cesto, agarrado a uma corda, está um homem a precisar de ajuda; o piloto ficara com uma perna enredada na corda que estava atada a uma âncora, no momento em que o balão tocou no chão. Uma súbita rabanada de vento arrasta o balão para uma escarpa rochosa. Vários homens surgem a correr para tentar ajudar a segurar o balão. Um desses homens era o nosso narrador Joe Rose, um jornalista de temas científicos. A sua mulher Clarissa, uma académica que investiga a morte do poeta inglês John Keats (1795 – 1821) em Roma, Itália, assiste a todos os acontecimentos.
Entre inúmeras dúvidas, intenções falhadas, ausência de comando, incompetência, egoísmo, falta de carácter, tudo falhou… mas ”E mais uma vez, num espaço de tempo inferior a um batimento do coração inflamado pela adrenalina, uma outra variável foi acrescentada à equação: alguém se soltou, e o balão subiu mais alguns metros no ar, arrastando consigo todos os que ainda estavam pendurados.
Não sei, nem nunca descobri, quem foi o primeiro a soltar-se. Não estou preparado para aceitar que tenha sido eu. Mas todos se arrogam de não terem sido os primeiros.” (Pág. 23).
Ian McEwan explora admiravelmente a temática dos extremos: a verdade e a mentira, o bem e o mal, o amor e o ódio, a certeza e a dúvida, apenas para mencionar alguns exemplos, mas igualmente a culpa e o arrependimento. A essência dos dilemas em ”O Fardo do Amor” são cuidadosamente e primorosamente descritos por Ian McEwan. Os conflitos interiores determinam os nossos comportamentos e são factores de racionalidade, não como um instinto, mas mais como uma conquista, como uma obsessão. Os relacionamentos sob pressão podem invariavelmente levar ao colapso ou até mesmo à separação. Como leitor acabamos também por nos envolver na questão da maternidade/paternidade, ou como essa incapacidade nos envolve emocionalmente.
Em ”O Fardo do Amor” há um suspense intenso e perturbador. Há uma frase que me surge - “os dilemas morais são uma merda”.

”A infelicidade que sentimos depois da catástrofe foi a prova de que sabíamos que tínhamos falhado perante nós próprios.” (Pág. 23)

"Como alguém que sonha consigo próprio, eu era ao mesmo tempo a primeira e a terceira pessoa. Agia e via-me a agir. Tinha os meus pensamentos e via-os fluir através de um ecrã. Tal como num sonho, as minhas reacções emocionais eram inexistentes ou desadequadas." (Pág. 28)

Nota 1: Não li os Anexos I e II.

Nota 2: Um filme foi realizado com base no livro. O realizador foi Roger Michell com Daniel Craig, Samantha Morton e Rhys Ifans.

https://youtu.be/EXiNVFmv0UU


"Ian McEwan escreve magistralmente sobre o perigo e a vulnerabilidade humana - mas nunca o tinha feito de uma forma tão acutilante e absorvente como nesta obra. Terrivelmente verosímil e de leitura compulsiva, este é um romance de amor, fé e suspense, que mostra como a vida de um homem comum se pode transformar radicalmente de um dia para o outro, conduzindo-o ao limiar do crime e da loucura." - da sinopse.

What a wonderful, disturbing change to think of love as something sinister.

I meant to just reach over on my bookpile next to my bed, snatch Enduring Love and read it for an hour or so before I got dressed and walked to school. I wound up hardly moving for the rest of the day and certainly not getting out of my pajamas because I just couldn’t put this down. An example: even the title made me think. I picked it up thinking that the word “enduring” was meant as an adjective to describe the kind of love Joe and Clarissa had through this whole ordeal. But later, I realized it could equally be meant as a verb: Joe is enduring the love of Perry. I can’t yet decide which use of the word I think would be more probable for McEwan to choose for his title. Which, of course, is a good thing.

I'm not the world's biggest fan of Ian McEwan, thus far. I didn't particularly enjoy Saturday, and I didn't get into Atonement the first time I picked it up, and so he has to work against quite a bit of scepticism from me.

Still, there is something compelling about his writing, and more so when he's not writing two pages all about the modern improvements in kettle technology, as he memorably did in Saturday. His narrators strike me as a bit pompous and over-talkative, but it usually works with their characters -- I didn't like a single character much, in this book, I have to say. I think I felt most about Jed Parry, and his hopeless obsession.

I think Ian McEwan writes reasonably well about the way people approach events like the ones he writes about here, and there is a frustrated sense of suspense here. On the other hand, I found some of his tricks to prolong suspense transparent and wearing, and while he does his research well, the layers of detail also got wearing.

I'm still not a convert, but I did like it more than Saturday.

This was a terrible book. I took this as a Holiday read and even though i had all the time in the world to read this.... and had no other books left to read (got through the other 3 books at the beginning of the hol) i had to really bully myself into reading this.

what was wrong with this book? It was written by someone who had the attention span of a 2 year old but the vocabulary of a 45 year old librarian.... so he went off topic all the time... but with the most ridiculous inappropriate and lengthy adjectives.... SNORE.

I would not recommend this and feel bad that i left this behind at my Spanish hotel. Really it should have been burned!!!!!