On the surface this is a story about a marital rift, that permeates through decades, as a son-in-law, who was orphaned himself as a child, becomes drawl to his wife’s parents and their story as almost pseudo-parents for himself, despite the fact that their own children have essentially divorced themselves from both of them. Their rift, and the story behind it, becomes an analogy of sorts for the World War and an entire generation left in its wake.

The introduction to this book blew me away.

It sometimes so happens that I start reading a book without really thinking about it. For the first 5, 10 pages, I don't take it "seriously", if you will. I think it's sort of a professional flaw, after reading so many books, I know from the very first one or two pages, how many more I can afford to not attentively read. Usually, that happens when you don't have too many characters and so there are not many introductions to be made.

When I read something that has a preface, maybe written by the author, like Stephen King does on a lot of his books, maybe by a critic, it's even worse. I don't mean to say I don't pay attention, it's just I don't get into it. I read it cooly, calmly, without any emotion for the story whatsoever.

The reason I'm writing now this whole thing is because with Black Dogs, it was completely different. The preface, written by the author but through his main character and completely connected to the story, hit me after about 20 rows in the first page. This is only on a personal level, and I know that it won't be the same for anyone else - I'm just stating an opinion here.

I related to the first 5, 6 pages in the most painful and eye-opening way. Few books do that to me. And I feel really good knowing there are/were authors out there that know how to write with the purpose of touching someone's mind or heart, not just their wallet.

Short, quite interesting. Doesn't really stand out in any major way.

Perhaps the same thing can be said about this review?

Oh alright! The books Black Dogs are hinted at being physical manifestations of humanities capability for evil. One of the characters in this book confronts these two horrible beasts during an idyllic walk through the French countryside. Although through the use of cunning and violence she manages to drive them away, the experience affects her deeply and changes her life outlook and her relationship to her partner in ways not quite understood at the time.

Ian McEwan is a good writer and this is a good book. But it doesn't stand out in any major way :-).

I found a used library hardcover of this at Half-Price Books about three months ago - I have a thing about hardcovers, so I had to buy it, although I was not initially terribly excited by the synopsis. I'm a pretty avid fan of Ian McEwan; since I read  The Cement Garden, I've really become enamored of his writing style. It's very intimate while still maintaining a narrative distance and certain coldness that I very much appreciate. However, since reading  Amsterdam and  On Cheshil Beach I've become more and more irritated by his abrupt plot changes and poorly concluded story lines.

Thus, my lack of hurry in reading this.

Still, I was actually very pleased by the building of relationships in the novel - there's a semi-transparency to time and chronology that I really liked. I admit to not much liking the newer experimentations with time line that so many authors and filmmakers are attempting these days - I really enjoy a story that can address the past, present, and, if necessary, future of a character without being pretentious about it. No one is going to write another  Slaughterhouse Five, and while I applaud creative divergence from the typical three to five act based storyline, ripping off the whole 'unstuck in time' idea is overdone. Anyway, as I said, the relationships are what really stood out for me. I can obviously relate to dysfunctional families and unhealthy relationships, which the novel has in abundance, but it was the small things that seemed very familiar to my own life and family that made it all so real to me: the drinking and drug abuse of the narrator's sister and brother-in-law, the sexual deviance, the yearning for a functional family and intelligent parents who care, and etc. The novel absolutely succeeds in these regards.

Given that the main thematic (or two) of the novel is/are relationships (and love), I wasn't terribly enamored of the novel's title - the black dogs really have very little to do with the story itself, and (spoiler ahead) I fucking hated McEwan's usage of the SS and rape within the plot. It felt contrived to me, and completely out of place - it had a brutality that was shocking, disgusting, and entirely inappropriate to it's place in the story. I got the impression that the author had been doing some kind of casual reading, came across something that made him go 'WOW!' and he wrote a short story about it. Short story well and good, but Christ, completely out of context in the novel.

Generally, the novel was quite good and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I read it from cover to back in a single four hour session (and yes, I am a slow reader), so I can't say that my displeasure at certain elements is really all that substantial, I can't say that I'm angry I invested any time in the read, etc. On the contrary, it was a very good read. However, the poor title and the pivotal encounter just were not at all compelling to me or important to me.

I think that this is probably the last Ian McEwan I'll be reading, as I've had too many nitpicks and gripes about the last three. I'm always frustrated and let-down by the conclusions, and I think I should probably take that as a clue.

This is quite possibly the longest 174-page book I have ever read. Really! I am not joking.

It is well written with excellent characters... however, it is slow and even harder going for me than an Iris Murdoch novel. I do like Atonement by the same author, but I can only give this one 3 stars..

The story could have been much more engaging. In a way, it's like a Kate Morton story without the heart.

"Ever since I lost mine in a road accident when I was eight, I have had my eye on other people's parents..." Jeremy, first person narrator in Ian McEwan's BLACK DOGS, finds what he is searching for in the parents of his wife Jenny, June and Bernard Tremaine. Placing the exploration of his in-laws' complicated relationship over five decades at the story's core around which the philosophical, spiritual and moral themes are continually gyrating, McEwan masterfully dissects the private sphere within and against the context of political developments in post-war Europe.

Jeremy, having agreed to assist the now ailing June to write her memoir, attempts to reach beyond her version of memories, by talking, in parallel to Bernard. For a better understanding of his own relationships, he needs to lead the couple back to the root-cause for their estrangement that has torn them apart, despite the strong emotional ties that have kept them, at times painfully, connected. McEwan's narration moves fluidly back and forth between the present discussions between June and Jeremy and the various pertinent timelines, going back to 1946 and the couple's honeymoon in a remote region of southern France. The black dogs of the title, introduced early on in the "Preface", reappear persistently throughout whether in June's dreams or in her recalling their appearance that so frightened her back then. While the actual circumstances are only revealed at the end of the book, in June's mind the dogs have evolved into something much more fundamental for her: a symbol of Menace and Evil that she has to counteract spiritually as best as she can.

There is much in this brief novel to capture the attention and imagination of the reader. The evocation of June's sense of happiness and fearful foreboding set against the beautiful, yet menacing barren landscape, is exquisite. McEwan convincingly contrasts June's and Bernard's opposing characters that the deep ties cannot mediate. "...a silly occultist and [...]a fish-eyed commissar.." is June's apt definition. Jeremy is a sensitively depicted, pleasant enough character who "is found by love" in his late thirties. However, several aspects of the book jarred for me and reduced the full engagement with the story and the characters. For example, the Preface reveals much important context beyond Jeremy, his relation to his wife and family and the events that led June and Bernard to move their lives into different directions: it already touches upon the core issues of the novel that might have had more impact on me were they to unfold slowly over the course of the narration. Furthermore, the novel's structure into four distinct Parts, deliberately disrupts the main narrative flows. While these on the one hand allowing for a deeper exploration of specific time periods and political events, for example, the Fall of the Berlin Wall, they seem, on the other, to skew the balance of importance that these events might have for the essence of the novel. Within the selection of these expansive semi-autonomous sub-stories we find some less than probable and/or extreme circumstances that are in danger of reducing the authenticity of other aspects of the novel and, for this reader, affect the overall enjoyment of the book. Without revealing any story details, nothing more can be said about these here. However, the issue of balance between primary story and semi-autonomous sub-story becomes more prominent in later McEwan novels, for example Atonement: A Novel.

Eindelijk kom ik met (het werk van) McEwan in het reine. Na het bedroevende The Comfort of Strangers, mijn eerste kennismaking met zijn pen, was ik direct afgeknapt. Ik ben blij dat dit boek op mijn pad kwam, want het is een schitterende roman: gevoelig, inlevend en met veel vakmanschap verteld.

Hesitating between 3 and 4 stars. As usual, McEwan writes memorable scenes; the one with Bernard in Berlin in 1989 at precisely the moment the Berlin wall falls stands out for its evocation of the excitement and jubilance of the moment and the one where June fights away the two black mastiffs from the title with only a penknife to protect herself, a wonderful scene of female spunk and resilience.
At the same time, the two main characters of the book, June and Bernard, don't really come to life. I would have liked McEwan to spend a couple of hundred pages more to explore the complicated relationship between the two, something he is usually unusually good at.

Piccola delusione.
Un tentativo malriuscito di sondare l'animo umano contrapponendo l'approccio magico, di June (la suocera del narratore), a quello pragmatico di Bernard (il suocero del narratore). La vaghezza, la mancanza di approfondimento di alcuni concetti sociopolitici appena accennati me lo hanno reso decisamente noioso.

I picked up Black Dogs at a used book store and was happy to find an Ian McEwan book there. Obviously very well written although transparent in places, this is not my favorite of his, but it was still very good. This is an outsider’s, if you consider a son-in-law as an outsider, view of a marriage enmeshed in philosophical differences. Jeremy is Bernard and June’s son-in-law and he appears more concerned with and interested in them, particularly June, than their biological children. Jeremy has been searching for replacement parental figures ever since losing his at a young age. He undertakes writing June’s memoirs in an effort to understand her and what went wrong with her marriage.

The characterization of June and Bernard as idea driven people provided a great counterpoint to Jeremy as a relationship driven person. Jeremy had been through one of the most traumatic events that a young person can face, loss of parents and then chronic instability. He then revisited this event on his sister’s child in an act of self-preservation. June and Bernard had their illusions and ideas shattered and it seemed to impact them almost as severely. It is interesting that I found it easy to feel sympathy for and root for Jeremy, but I really didn’t connect with Bernard and June. Good short read, however I prefered On Chesil Beach to this

Black Dogs, Ian McEwan

Black Dogs is a 1992 novel by the British author Ian McEwan.

It concerns the aftermath of the Nazi era in Europe, and how the fall of the Berlin Wall in the late 1980's affected those who once saw Communism as a way forward for society.

The main characters travel to France, where they encounter disturbing residues of Nazism still at large in the French countryside.

تاریخ نخستین خوانش روز بیست و ششم ماه آوریل سال 2014میلادی

عنوان: سگ‌های سیاه؛ نویسنده ایان مک‌ایوان (ایان راسل مک یوون)؛ مترجم امیرحسین مهدی‌زاده؛ تهران، نشر نی، 1390؛ شابک 9789641851875؛ در 176ص؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان بریتانیایی - سده 20م

عنوان: سگ‌های سیاه؛ نویسنده ایان مک‌ایوان (ایان راسل مک یوون)؛ مترجم مصطفی مفیدی؛ تهران، نیلوفر، 1395؛ شابک 9789644483714؛ در 220ص؛

نویسنده بینش خوبی دارند؛ «سگ‌‌های سیاه» در دایره‌‌ هایی تودرتو ساخته می‌‌شود: عشق، شور، و سرمستی معنوی، کشف حقیقت شخصی، و یافتن توضیح برای کائناتی که «به سرنوشت پرولتاریا اهمیتی نمی‌‌دهد»، عقل و توضیح مادی جهان، سیاست و جزم‌‌ اندیشی، و فروپاشی «هر آن‌چه سخت و استوار است»، از دیوار بلند «برلین» تا دیوارهای بلندی که شرق و غرب روح آدمیان را به دو نیم، و نیمه‌‌ های پیدا شده را، در پس ِ پشت ویرانه‌‌ های خویش گم میکند؛ «سگ‌‌های سیاه» نه‌‌ تنها در زمینه هم‌‌آمیزی درون‌مایه‌‌های ناظر بر مفاهیم، و جهان‌‌های گوناگون و متضاد، استادانه است، که با درهم آمیزی و ترکیب شکل‌‌های مدرن برای روایت رمان، از گوناگونی برای نگارش قصه‌‌، تا خودگویه‌‌ های عاطفی، نیز ساختاری نازک اندیشانه و هنرمندانه دارد؛ رمانی که جا و مجال خوانش چند باره را دارد

نقل از متن: (حالا دیگر میدانست کجای داستان است، همچنانکه میدانست بعدش چه پیش میآمد؛ ولی در هیجان روانی کوتاهی که با بیداری اش همراه بود، متوجه شدم، دارم آماده میشوم، در برابر اعلان اجتناب ناپذیر «روز بعد»، مقاومت کنم؛ میخواستم او را به جای دیگری هدایت کنم؛ چندین بار این «روز بعد» را، مرور کرده ایم، نُقل زبان خانواده بود، قصه ای که با تکرار، صیقل خورده، و به قدری سر زبان بود، که دیگر نیازی به یادآوری نداشت، مثل دعایی که از حفظ بخوانند؛ حکایتش را سالها پیش شنیده بودم، همانوقت که در «لهستان»، با «جنی» آشنا شدم؛ آن را به حد کافی از «برنارد» شنیده بودم، که تازه به معنی دقیق کلمه هم، شاهد ماجرا نبوده، در کریسمس، و دیگر جمعهای خانوادگی، موضوع مکرر بازگو شده بود، تا جاییکه به «جون» مربوط میشد، این ماجرا باید در کانون زندگینامه اش قرار میگرفت، همچنان که در روایت خود او از زندگی اش، چنین بود ــ لحظه تعیین کننده، تجربه ی نقطه ی چرخش، حقیقت آشکار شده ای که در پرتو آن، همه ی نتایج پیشین میبایست مورد بازاندیشی قرار میگرفت؛ داستانی بود که دقت تاریخی آن، از مقصودی که برآورده میکرد، اهمیت کمتری داشت؛ اسطوره بود، چونکه بنا بود مستند هم باشد، باز نیرومندتر میشد؛ «جون» خود را متقاعد کرده بود، که «روز بعد»، همه چیز را توضیح خواهد داد ــ اینکه چرا حزب را ترک کرده بود، چرا او و «برنارد» دچار یک ناهماهنگی عمرانه شدند، چرا در عقلگرایی اش، در ماده گرایی اش تجدید نظر کرد، چطور شد که چنین زندگی کرد که کرد، کجا به سر برد، چه اندیشید.)؛ پایان نقل

تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 06/02/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی

This is my fourth Ian McEwan, with a few more on my shelf to go. I got started with this McEwan diet upon reading Atonement. None I've read so far have lived up. This isn't an exception. Black Dogs is quite short (only about 280+ pages) and I'm sure could be read in one sitting, if one had the time, but I couldn't really get into it and it took me a few nights.

McEwan writes beautiful prose. The story itself is intriguing (the life-changing impact on a young woman who encounters a pair of vicious black dogs while hiking), an allegory of evil in the world, Nazism. But I have to confess that I was bored. This viewpoint is at odds with many others who loved the book.