"É assim, não fazendo nada que todo o curso de uma vida pode ser alterado."

Um jovem casal na sua noite de núpcias.
Parecia-me tão pouco para ser merecedor de um livro...mas...após ler o último e comovedor parágrafo fechei o livro e pensei:
Os livros são a trave mestra da minha vida! Sustêm-me, equilibram-me, ensinam-me, mostram-me alternativas e, acima de tudo, ajudam-me a compreender um pouco o mundo e as pessoas que me envolvem.

A história fala de um jovem casal apaixonado, prestes a consumar o seu amor.
Ele, mais ou menos experiente e confiante;
Ela totalmente ignorante e receosa.
Uma história sobre o medo. O medo das palavras. De dizer o que sente, o que se quer, de que se tem medo...
E de como é mais fácil a fuga para o silêncio e para o refúgio dentro de nós próprios, em vez de expormos as nossas fraquezas, os nossos desejos...
E, nessa cobardia, destruímos aquilo, que por vezes, está ali ao nosso alcance e que é a maior ambição do ser humano: A Felicidade!

read this in one sitting (plane from LA to NYC) and it knocked my socks off and i came up with a scenario: imagine i was flying cross country for some kind of mcewanesque purpose like maybe last trip to NYC I i'd met a girl only spent a few hours with her but came back changed walked around LA all buzzed out, different, everything altered, everything colored with that heady/hearty/buzzy feeling. sounds stupid yeah but go with me (and mcewan) on this. what if i just couldn’t get her outta my head i mean what if this girl was just perfect like so ridiculously smart and funny and beautiful and just had that thing that very very very few people have and what if, prick atheist that i am, i knew this was something important?

do you behave cautiously before the impossibility and impracticality of a geographically-challenged love affair? do you cower before doubt and fear and insecurity and the unknown and the possibility of failure? or do you shove all that useless stuff aside and burst forward chest out and fists clenched and go grab one’s fate by the throat (rather than be content as attendant lord)?

well this is the stuff of mcewan’s fiction and he’s obsessed with that singular moment and with all the various possibilities which extend outward. might be the fallout from a shared glance while hanging from the dangling ropes of an ascending hot air balloon or the reaction to a disastrous night of naïve lovemaking or an attack by two canine rapists (seriously) or for me a magical but unrealistic night spent knocking around lower east side bars. and you gotta wonder what'd you do in one of these mcewanesque moments. do you go for it? smarter to think with the mind over the heart (you want what you can’t have, grass is always greener, love is a biological imperative necessary for survival of the species). yeah? would i go for it? jump on a plane? risk looking like a crazy person? risk rejection and heartbreak? smart (fuck smart) move to get involved with someone i'd rarely see in person? throw caution (fuck caution) to the wind and make some kind of grand gesture to someone i’ve only actually seen in the flesh about 60 hours in my entire life? or take the reasonable route and allow fate to determine my course? hmmm….

«Η πρώτη μας νύχτα/
Αργά θα κυλήσει/
Εσύ τ’ όνειρό μου/
Και γύρω σιωπή.»

Μια πρώτη νύχτα γάμου διαφορετική από αυτή που περιγράφει ο Κώστας Πρετεντέρης στους τρυφερούς στίχους του αφηγείται ο Ίαν Μακ Γιούαν στο μυθιστόρημά του Στην Ακτή· μια πρώτη νύχτα γάμου, κατά την οποία οι δυο βαθιά ερωτευμένοι νέοι της ιστορίας, ο Έντουαρντ και η Φλόρενς, θα αποκάλυπταν – για πρώτη φορά – πλήρως τους εαυτούς τους ο ένας στον άλλον, γεγονός που εύλογα τους δημιουργούσε αντικρουόμενα συναισθήματα: στον Έντουαρντ ανυπομονησία, στην Φλόρενς τρόμο και εκνευρισμό.

Στα 1962, τότε που ο κόσμος ήταν διαφορετικός, η πρώτη νύχτα του γάμου, καθόλου σπάνια, σηματοδοτούσε τη μετάβαση από την αθωότητα στην ωριμότητα. Αλλά ένα τέτοιο βήμα, όσο απλό ή αναγκαίο κι αν φαίνεται, δεν είναι όλοι οι άνθρωποι έτοιμοι να το κάνουν διαμιάς. Ούτε τότε, ούτε και σήμερα.

Εξαιρετικό μυθιστόρημα που δεν θες να τελειώσει (και πάντως εύχεσαι να είχε τελειώσει διαφορετικά), με τη χαρακτηριστική ήρεμη, βραδυφλεγή πρόζα του συγγραφέα και μια ξεχωριστή τρυφερότητα στην περιγραφή όλων όσων έγιναν και ειπώθηκαν εκείνο το καλοκαιρινό βράδυ του 1962, σ’ ένα δωμάτιο ξενοδοχείου και σε μια ακτή εκεί κοντά, ανάμεσα σε δύο ανθρώπους που η πρώτη νύχτα της κοινής ζωής τους έμελλε να αποδειχτεί και η τελευταία.

"De este modo podía cambiarse por completo el curso de una vida: no haciendo nada. En Chesil Beach podría haber llamado a Florence, podría haberla seguido. No supo, o no había querido saberlo, que al huir de él, convencida en su congoja de que estaba a punto de perderle, nunca le había amado más, o con menos esperanza, y que el sonido de su voz habría sido una liberación para ella, y habría vuelto. Pero él guardó un frío y ofendido silencio en el atardecer de verano y observó la premura con que ella recorría la orilla y cómo las olitas que rompían acallaban el sonido del avance trabajoso de Florence hasta que sólo fue un punto borroso y decreciente contra la inmensa vía recta de guijarros relucientes a la luz pálida." IM

Okay first things first, McEwan should definitely not try writing an erotic novel.

This is an amazing piece of writing. If psychology detail of characters is your kink, you will love this novel.

Like many readers, I was a bit frustrated by flashbacks though they did seem to be of value - not to mention there was some really beautiful writing. You get to see that the Edward had a mentally ill mother which would explain his anger (other examples of violent display of which are also visible in flashbacks) and you get to see how Florance is conflict averse (she would leave her house in order to avoid any communication with the vaguest hint of conflict) so it makes sense that she kept delaying most awkward conversation of her life. Sex has something of aggressiveness inside it, something of our animal nature which frightens her who seems to have none of that aggression to herself.
Moreover, sex needs a second nature, away from normal social nature. The couple who has known each other for so long are embarrassed to show this aspect of their nature (it is to avoid this awkwardness that God invented role-playing games and foreplay).

And there is that love thingy ... you homo-sapiens, ever since Christ believe that love is a solution to all problems - your Harry Potter, Doctor Who etc don't help. If you strip it of all romanticism, love is just hormones gone crazy; often it creates more problems than it solves. It is the willingness to always see this emotion in rosy light people argue whether Wuthering Heights was a love story. You might, like Othello, love too much but not well. You might like Snape, love and still be a sadist.

The couple in the story love each other, and they both want to be best for each other. But they are at loss for the words that could describe their feelings. They keep on returning to the usual 'I love you's. But that is not enough, the frustration builds upon disappointing each other which can't be phrased either. Since the other person is also failing to communicate you feel cheated. And bottled up frustration, given enough time, always comes out as anger. I think it is telling that their divorce was filed on grounds of 'no communication':

n  
"His anger stirred her own and she suddenly thought she understood their problem: they were too polite, too constrained, too timorous, they went around each other on tiptoes, murmuring, whispering, deferring, agreeing. They barely knew each other, and never could because of the blanket of companionable near-silence that smothered their differences and blinded them as much as it bound them. They had been frightened of ever disagreeing, and now his anger was setting her free. She wanted to hurt him, punish him in order to make herself distinct from him. It was such an unfamiliar impulse in her, towards the thrill of destruction, that she had no resistance against it."
n

Since your anger is for reasons that can't be spelled, it comes out on wrong things.

n  
"She could already see ahead. They would have this row, they would make up, or half make up, she would be coaxed back to the room, and then the expectations would be laid on her again. And she would fail again. She could not breathe. Her marriage was eight hours old and each hour was a weight on her, all the heavier because she did not know how to describe these thoughts to him. So money would have to do as the subject–in fact, it did perfectly well, because now he was roused."
n

The parts that describe the argument, in the end, are simply brilliantly written.

n  
"She knew he realised he had gone too far with his word, and now he was trapped with it. As she turned her back on him, she was conscious of play-acting, of being tactical in a way she had always despised in her more demonstrative girlfriends. She was tiring of the conversation. Even the best outcome would only return her to more of the same silent manoeuvrings."
n

Such beautiful descriptive passages, I am envious:

n  
"This is how the entire course of a life can be changed–by doing nothing. On Chesil Beach he could have called out to Florence, he could have gone after her. He did not know, or would not have cared to know, that as she ran away from him, certain in her distress that she was about to lose him, she had never loved him more, or more hopelessly, and that the sound of his voice would have been a deliverance, and she would have turned back. Instead, he stood in cold and righteous silence in the summer’s dusk, watching her hurry along the shore, the sound of her difficult progress lost to the breaking of small waves, until she was a blurred, receding point against the immense straight road of shingle gleaming in the pallid light."
n

This was a bit of real life Goodreads-style book-detective work. Not that much work really, but hey, kind of interesting to us weirdos.

I read this hot off the press and reviewed it saying thus :


Don't know if any other pop music geek already pointed this out - probably did - but it contains a major historical gaffe which amused and annoyed me - in 1962 the guy is playing his classical-music-loving fiancee Beatles and Stones records which wouldn't be released for a whole year. I bet IM is sick and tired of being told about that howler already. Serves him right! Do your homework!

You can see the puzzled comments of American friends below, and after some debate, it turned out that by the time the American edition was published IM had quietly fixed his mistake. Didn't know they did that!

Weer zo'n boek van McEwan waar je het heel benauwd van krijgt. Ik vond het heel goed, hij wist bij mij plaatsvervangende schaamte op te wekken voor de mannelijke hoofdpersoon. Een pijnlijk en weer enorm goed geschreven boek.

The Independent on Sunday aptly called this novella 'Wonderful… exquisite… devastating' and I would add encompassing and actually quite funny at times, with a masterful application of realism. This is the story of how an innocent couple's honeymoon forever changes their lives because of the exchange they have on Chesil Beach. Another great piece of work by the man that captures (British?) people so well. 8 out of 12.

2011 read

Reading Ian McEwan makes me want to give up forever on writing any more sentences of my own. It's just embarrassing. Why bother? Ugh.

_______________

I am really glad I didn't read this book when I was a kid. If it had existed then and I'd come across it, between On Chesil Beach and Bell Jar I would've almost certainly gotten me to a nunnery, and I'd be there right now (though come to think of it, would that be such a bad thing?).

Actually, I think I read this at precisely the right stage of my life. I see that not all the Booksters on here loved it so much, while to me it was just about perfect. So far both McEwan books I've read have dealt with sex and class, but also with this project of looking back at the past and trying to make sense of it, and of the ways we choose to do or not do certain things, at how we make decisions and conduct relationships with one another, and in this fumbling, unguided way wind up doing what it is that makes our lives. McEwan shows us history and the people trapped inside it, and he offers up a counterpoint to the Talking Heads song about days going by with a different view of the mechanics by which we each wind up having lived a certain life.... if that makes any sense, and it probably doesn't the muddled way I've explained it. Well, it does to me, and I actually thought this book accomplished it much more successfully than Atonement, which I also really liked.

I think Ian McEwan is a terrific writer. I bet if I'd read him a another point in my life I wouldn't be responding so enthusiastically, but right now his stuff is making a lot of sense to me.

I also love that he wrote a short, careful book. More people should do that. Everything doesn't need to be so big and sprawling. An excruciatingly crafted sex scene can be just as impressive as a multigenerational epic, in five hundred fewer pages. Saves on trees, too!

“Nasıl söyleyeceklerini bilemedikleri ya da söylemeye cesaret edemedikleri bütün o şeyleri baskı altında tutarak burada oturmak yerine neden şimdi orada değillerdi? Ve onları engelleyen neydi? Kişilikleri ve geçmişleri, cehaletleri ve korkuları, çekingenlikleri, titizlikleri, hak görmemeleri, deneyimsiz olmaları ya da rahat davranamamaları, sonra dinsel yasakların ucuna takılmaları, İngilizlikleri ve sınıfları ve tarihin kendisi. Fazla bir şey değil.”

1962 yılının Haziran ayında geçen bir düğün gecesini okuduğunuz kısa bir kitap gibi görünse de; arka planda ayrıntılarla işlenmiş, sessizce ilerleyen kelimelerin hep içe içe söylendiği; iletişim kuramamanın, toplum kurallarının ve çaresizliğin nerelere varabileceğinin hikayesi. Yalnız düze ve ilişki o kadar yanlış ki; okuyanı oldukça rahatsız ediyor. Kitaba dahil olup ikisini de şöyle bir omuzlarından tutup “napıyorsunuz siz” diye sallayası geliyor insanın. Ama bunu yapamayıp bütün hikayenin nasıl uçurumdan yuvarlandığını okuyorsunuz anca. Ian Mcewan’ın kitapları arasında favorim değil ama okuduğunuzda da pişman olmazsınız.

“Bir hayatın bütün gidişi işte böyle değiştirilebilirdi hiçbir şey yapmayarak

Two people experimenting new emotions, new life. Two people with different feelings about intimacy. But these two were opposite extremities. Maybe they were too young or they got married soon. Love doesn't depend only from physical intimacy. Also, it's the acceptance of your loved one's choice.
The first book from McEwan was Atonement with strict and less emotional prose than you could expect from the plot. On the Chesil Beach was more emotional.
Few writers know how to write natural erotic scenes without cheap story, and McEwan is one of them.

This is the third novel by McEwan that I read. I watched the movie adaptation before I began reading the book. The movie was beautiful, the cinematography and the acting were superb. Of course, I was curious to compare how well the book was translated to the screen and what was left out of the book.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but the movie was better than the book, as it had a bit more "meat". You'd think that because I had the movie visuals in my head, the book would have come to life even more. To be honest, it wasn't the case.

Something was amiss and I wanted a bit more to the story. I do admire a great deal that McEwan approached the subject of the wedding night when the two are virgins and have different sexual appetites and expectations. It was different, I can't remember ever reading a book where the woman was so disgusted and apprehensive about anything related to sex. I guess when it comes to sex, the line between sublime and yuck can be very thin.

On Chesil Beach was good, but it didn't awe me like the Nutshell.

Therefore it's only getting 3.5 stars - rounded up.