“Kefaret” tipik bir Ian McEwan romanı, günümüzle geçmişi ustaca bağlayan, bunu çok zekice geçişler yaparak sağlayan, okuması kolay olduğundan sabun köpüğü gibi görünse de ciddi iz bırakan bir kurgu kullanan, tıpkı diğer eserleri gibi keyifle okunan bir roman. İkinci bölümde Dunkirk tahliyesini de içeren savaşlı yıllar oldukça etkileyici. Kafamı yormayan ama gerilimi belirli bir seviyede tutan McEwan romanlarını seviyorum.

Ah, to be young and bookish and to hate your status as a child… To want to be part of the grown-ups' world, to want to understand their strange actions and their esoteric social codes, which seem so mysterious and sophisticated… As we get older we often realize that none of this is quite as glamorous as we had imagined, and the rear-view mirror of memory can give new meanings to events we thought we understood so well in our youth…

Briony is the youngest child of rather comfortable British family, between the two World Wars. One hot summer afternoon, when cousins and a friend of her older brother Leon's are visiting, a strange series of events will change Briony's life. She will witness a mysterious scene between her older sister Cecilia and their housekeeper's son, Robbie; her thirteen years old eyes will interpret their interaction and the following events very differently from what actually happened and by the end of that day, nothing will ever be the same… From there on, we follow Robbie and Cecilia's story, as they deal with the consequences of Briony's not-so-innocent mistake, and with the young girl's long and excruciating journey for forgiveness.

I am late on the band-wagon, as usual, and this is my first McEwan novel. And now I am kicking myself for not having checked this book out sooner. His prose is lush with gorgeous images and sensations - I found myself reading slower than usual to make the pleasure last a little bit longer. The characterization is amazing, as we get under every character's skin, explore their thoughts, what haunts and motivates them - and it is captivating! McEwan's mastery of language blew me away, as did his use of symbolism and clever narrative structure. A story about a mistake in judgement could never be told from a single point of view, it has to be explored from many angles, and he handled that with incredible skill.

What Briony does is a thoughtless act motivated by a whirlwind of immature feelings: jealousy, a need for attention, wanting to be taken seriously and feel "worldly", the budding fascination (and paradoxical repulsion) with sexuality that every young girl experiences... I've read many reviews that mention how much they hated her and how petty and selfish she was; have these readers ever met thirteen year old girls?! They are generally insufferable precisely because they are at that horribly awkward stage of growing up. Being a little girl doesn't work anymore, but no one treats them like adults either, so they are unpredictable and they act out. I am by no means excusing Briony's spiteful reaction; as the title of the book implies, she will spend the rest of her life paying for her mistake it in guilt and regret. What I am saying is how realistic I think she is; I didn't like her one bit, but I believed in her completely.

I am not a big love story fan, because I think most people can't write them up in any kind of honest and realistic way. Most people write about love-at-first sight or obsessive lust and neither of these things are love the way real people experience it, so I avoid books labeled as romances like the plague. I can count on the fingers of one hand the love stories I actually felt invested in, and Robbie and Cecilia's story is one of them. This is impressive given the fact that they are each other's first and only love, something I am usually very skeptical of. I was very moved by their devotion and how they give each other a reason to carry on in some of history's darkest days. I read the second half of this book with a lump in my throat, wondering what was wrong with me. In the end, I realized that nothing is wrong with me: McEwan is just fucking brilliant.

Cecilia is spoiled, but she turns out to have more character and inner strength than the rest of her family put together. Her faith in Robbie and her unwavering loyalty to him made her one of the greatest romantic heroines I've encountered in literature. As for Robbie, I couldn't help but admire his pride, his resilience and his fair-mindedness. For someone with such a bright and promising future to be disgraced and ruined the way he is would be tragic in and of itself, but the dignity with which he keeps moving and never gives up on his ultimate goal (to "live without shame": what a line!) made me root for him with my whole heart.

The ending made a lot of people angry, apparently, but I loved it. It made the heartbreaking parts of the story even more crushing and while we see that Briony can never really make peace with herself, she gave peace back to those she hurt the only way she could figure out how. I found that incredibly moving. Writing is a form of therapy to many writers: it's a way to talk about the things that linger on your mind without really talking about them exorcise demons, right wrongs and create a better world. This novel made me want to start writing again.

This was a wonderful and rewarding read, a rich mix of Austen, Forster, Waugh and Woolf, and I loved every word of it so much more than I could have anticipated. I saw the movie, and while I often can't stand the sight of Keira Knightley, I do think that she was a perfect Cecilia, and that the movie was a flawless adaptation that perfectly captured the tone of McEwan's writing. 5 very bright stars and a spot of my "favorites" shelf.

A beautifully written and cleverly told story of relationships, growing up, guilt and, obviously, atonement and forgiveness. The essence of the story is how a childish mistake, made in good faith (more or less) can have consequences for many people, for many years.

Although it would be better to read this before watching the film, I’d heard that the book had been thought unfilmable and so was pretty different, which ensured I was alert to reading it with fresh eyes.

Part 1 is perhaps not quite as idyllic as in the film, but still presents a sharp contrast to the scenes in wartorn France that follow, where lovable Robbie is only referred to with detachment by his surname. Although powerfully described, I think the war section is a little too long, but it's a small quibble.

What McEwan does so well in this is the way he explains the inner thoughts and conflicts of his different characters, especially Briony, both as a naive and self-centred teenager, and as a selfless and guilt-ridden adult.

Eu nem sei ao certo o que escrever...

Chorei imenso ao longo de toda a leitura deste livro, ao ponto de recear a próxima vez que o fosse ler. E porquê? Vi a adaptação cinematográfica há muitos anos e este foi um daqueles filmes que me marcaram imenso, tendo eu comprado o livro e pensado "quando me esquecer do que vi, leio este livro". Aconteceu assim? Não! Nunca fui capaz de me esquecer do que fosse acerca do filme. Então foi terrível ler o livro. Mas atenção, terrível porque é daquelas coisas que nos marcam de uma forma especial e que por isso mesmo adoramos e tememos ao mesmo tempo.

Foi a primeira obra de Ian McEwan que li e posso dizer que estou tentada a aventurar-me numa outra obra sua, qualquer uma. E o bom disto é que não assisti a nenhum outro filme adaptado a partir dos livros deste escritor. Sorte a minha...

A spiteful, scheming and vindicative sister, or a naïve, overimaginative, and pubescent teenager, who did something unforgivable?

My first time reading this, I believed Briony to be the former. A clear case of sister rivalry and jealousy that led Briony to make deplorable accusations about her sister, Cecelia’s, boyfriend that would change the course of her sister’s life, and his forever. On reading the second time, I am inclined to be more open-minded to the cause but not the effect and the need for repentance and atonement.

However, the brilliance in this story does not stop with the heavy themes of ‘regret and guilt’. It is a tragic love story, where the grave reality of war is in sharp contrast to the delusional youthful mind wanting to create fiction, where the protagonist seems oblivious to the consequences of her actions. Then again nor did we as readers see the gut-wrenching twist at the end that makes this one of the more powerful novels I have read.

A multilayered complex story of ‘atonement’.

The Plot

The book is told in three parts and opens in the idyllic countryside where a house party is about to begin, and it is our first glimpse of the dreams that the young Briony possesses of becoming a writer. It is also the first time we come to realise that Briony also harbours a childhood crush on her sister’s boyfriend. However, when she stumbles into a room where they are making out and later reads the explicit notes that Robbie writes about her sister, Briony’s underdeveloped emotions and youthful melodrama see her make the most devastating decision when asked who she saw assault her cousin Lola. Unable to make out the real figure, in the garden, and piece together the sexual mystery she has witnessed between Robbie and Cecelia, Briony answers - Robbie. And the result – well Robbie is imprisoned and eventually sent to war.

It is at this point the book switches into a deeper reality and darker mood on the beaches of Dunkirk where Robbie is stationed among the dying and the injured, but his love and Cecelia’s family’s betrayal is never far from his thoughts…

“My story will resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the Surrey Park at dusk in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life ... I will return, find you, love you, marry you, and live without shame."

Meanwhile, the woman who has stood by him through everything has taken up a post to help the war effort but has never lost faith in Robbie or their relationship.

Years later, we loop back to Briony who has had time to reflect on her accusations and full of remorse wants to put things right with her sister and atone for what she did to her and Robbie. However, can anything this grave ever be unsaid and undone? Will Briony ever get to atone?

Review and Comments

On reading this the second time, I have tried to understand Briony and her actions more. A young girl living in a home where her mother spends endless days in her bedroom and her father whose work takes priority means she is often left feeling isolated and lonely. It is during these impressionable years that parents need to be mindful of the childhood crushes young girls can possess. Yet Briony has no such moral guidance. Add to that the erotic scenes she observes that her young mind is ill equipped to process, understand, and appreciate. So, when she sees the sexual attack on her cousin, she pieces together what she thinks she knows and wrongly accuses Robbie.

This story within a story, brings a powerful message that some things cannot be undone or unsaid and the consequences of either naivety or immoral actions are still the same and it is with this sentiment that I applaud the ending and treasure this book.

A literary feast, a cinematic representation of wrongdoing, a complex multilayered story with incredible messaging. A story that is as innocent as it is condemned, a book about guilt and absolution, naivety, and dishonesty but most of all a tragic love story where atonement is not just about reparation and cleansing, it is also about ‘time’, of not having enough of it.

5 heartbreaking, guilty, remorseful, pubescent, and unforgiving stars.

n  “The anticipation and dread he felt at seeing her was also a kind of sensual pleasure, and surrounding it, like an embrace, was a general elation--it might hurt, it was horribly inconvenient, no good might come of it, but he had found out for himself what it was to be in love, and it thrilled him.”n

It has been a rather turmoiled couple of weeks, and of all reasons other than the second wave of covid, because of this novel. I again took a day off just to recover from the numbness, though every time I glance at the book, which incidentally is right on my lap as I write, I am unsure whether I really overcame it.

Where to begin? I think it will be safe to say this is one of the best written novels that I’ve read, which’s written in this century. And the characters…damn. Though it is looked upon by most as of romance-war genre, (or at least Google says so) I think it’s basically a very microscopic study of the inner turmoil of a precocious pseudo-intellectual and rather stupid adolescent. Well, Briony won’t be called precocious in this century, but suffice it to say it’s quite flabbergasting how much her thinking process is developed at a mere thirteen, though we could’ve done with a similarly well-developed conscience, at times she did seem like a smaller yet masculine version of Ronald Weasley, in the ways she showed off her protectiveness for her elder sister.



The prime focus is on the storytelling, obviously. Just like the numerous references to the classicists, all the words are like a brilliant fusion of the typical styles of Austen in her sarcastic undertone, Virginia Woolf in her stream of consciousness, Conrad in the delineations of the horrors of the battle-field and hospital beds, whereas the atmospheric built-up is certainly a homage to Thomas Mann (I got confirmed by McEwan’s influences’ list). And quite expectedly, there’s multiple shifts in tonality, though it gets significant in the transition from one Part to another. And herein lies the only flaw of the novel: it’s too flawless for its own good, kind of reminds me how Hemingway told after finishing his The Old Man and the Sea that there ain’t a wasted word. Well, I could’ve done with a couple of wasted words in a novel of this size. Anyway…

The interior monologues is another standing point for the novel. However, given that an entire section was devoted to the almost Kafkaesque devastations in Dunkirk and the blood and guts and excrement in the hospital, which is rather splatterpunk too, I feel Cecilia’s character deserved a bit more room, though that thought won’t cross anyone’s mind twice. The coincidences Robbie shared with his Freudian psychology, more than once, are similarly astounding.

n  A bit from my experiencen:(Skip if you feel like it) Just like I had done with Virginia Woolf’s or rather any other novel that’s just as brilliantly written, after reading just a page or two and already been dumbfounded by the fabulous storytelling, I decided that I will read only a bit a day so as to savor the brilliance. That does work most of the times, but after a point, I just gave up and read the remaining 250+ pages within two days.

However, a part of me still wishes that I haven’t read the last three pages. Just because… you know. There’s a sort of feeling, like from the very start of a novel you start to apprehend that the blow is about to come. Then you wait for it for ages, all prepared, and it never comes in a hard-hitting way, so you give a big sigh of relief for a not-so-happy-but-not-too-devastating-either-ending to come, but when it comes, you want to just chuck the book away as far as you can. That almost happened with me, I got numb. I couldn’t fully understand what just happened, and when I did…

I wish I had the spoilers; you know. I was recommended the movie almost since it ever came out, and I hadn’t watched it, or read anything about, well anything at all, so that I have the exact experience of those who read it when it came out at first (the year I was born, more precisely

"Atonement" is a gorgeously written book about perception, social class, love, war, guilt, and forgiveness. The main character is Briony Tallis, a precocious 13-year-old girl, who is already dabbling in writing. With her overactive imagination, she misinterprets the interactions between her older sister, Cecilia, and the brilliant but lower class neighbor, Robbie. When Briony's cousin is sexually assaulted in the dark night, Briony jumps to conclusions and blames it on the man that her sister loves.

As Briony grows older, she realizes her guilt in harming Robbie's and Cecilia's lives. She volunteers as a nurse during World War II as a punishment to herself. Briony writes about her experiences as the broken soldiers are brought to the hospital from Dunkirk. The book also describes Robbie's horrific experiences as a British soldier during the retreat as he marches to Dunkirk.

The final part of the novel shows Briony as an older woman in 1999 who has written a book about her misunderstanding of events when she was a girl. It's to be published after the deaths of all of the participants during that fateful day. Briony has us thinking about the power of the imagination, perception, deception, and the responsibility to make things right. She is using her literary gifts at a third stage in her life to tell us more about the tragic story. "Atonement" is both a superb story about guilt and the need for absolution, and a wonderful homage to the art of storytelling.

”Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame."- Atonement, Ian McEwan.

Reading Ian McEwan’s Atonement feels like being a child, watching the most secret parts of my heart being brazenly displayed on paper. It's both innocent and cruel, adorable and foolish. While marveling at its accuracy, I also felt a slightly intoxicated sense of shame, longing to see more of this "other self" for a longer time.

The novel is more brutal than the film. Novels excel at the endless flow of thoughts and consciousness, requiring full immersion from the reader. Films, on the other hand, rely heavily on actors to convey a certain kind of illusion, making us feel like we can keep up with the pace of thought. In the film, we can still fawn over Keira Knightley, but in the novel, we have to endure the childish and lengthy mental world of Briony Tallis. Yet, the novel is more captivating than the film. Visuals are too superficial and ultimately still need to be analyzed with words. Only by confronting the text can we achieve full immersion.

SPOILER ALERT!

It's a cold story. The 13-year-old Briony, immersed in a fervent interest in writing and fantasy, is overwhelmed by the changing relationship between Cecilia and Robbie. Lola, Jackson, and Pierrot, at a young age, are sent to live as dependents at the Tallis house, while Mrs. Tallis, enduring her husband's infidelity and a persistent headache, must also hold up the changing Tallis family. This chaotic situation is brought to the stage in a frustrating summer, as tedious and dull as Briony's hastily rehearsed play. Lola is raped, and Briony, based on her imagination and prejudice, firmly believes that the perpetrator is Robbie, sending this promising young man to prison with a "clear purpose, malicious heart, persistence, never wavering, never doubting." From then on, 3 lives are changed forever.

The book is divided into 3 parts. The first part, from Briony's perspective, describes the beginning and end of the rape incident. The second part follows Robbie's military career after his release from prison. The third part is Briony's reflection and redemption of the crime she committed as a trainee nurse.

Although the first part spans only 2 days, McEwan uses an almost exaggerated length to describe the events that occurred at the Tallis house during these 2 days. It's a typical McEwan technique: long, subjective descriptions of the environment, weather, scenery, characters' actions, expressions, and language. This stream-of-consciousness writing style is like a monster with outstretched tentacles, lurking in every corner of the mansion. After tirelessly complaining about the hot weather, we know that at a certain tipping point, the monster will retract its tentacles and crush everything. Briony, so much like us when we were young, is sensitive, arrogant, and immersed in fantasy, constantly battling against some imaginary enemy. The reason she loves writing is probably because in novels, she can find the satisfaction of "becoming an emperor." There, everything is orderly and structured, "Death is the patent of the morally deficient, and marriage is a report that doesn't deliver the punchline until the last page." Part of her mind is precocious, but another part is childish. This childishly pure obsession with love leads to her vulnerability and makes her particularly easy to destroy. When the development of the real world deviates from the moral track of the fantasy world, she frantically tries to extract some delusions from the fantasy world to fill the gap in the logic of reality, but this only leads to misunderstanding and illusion. Briony is a child who believes more in illusions.

There is an interesting phenomenon in most of McEwan’s works: the absence of male symbols (or rather, the absence of the father figure). In The Cement Garden, the parents pass away at the beginning, and in this novel, Jack Tallis is absent throughout the rape incident, trapped on a train and fast asleep. Leon, as the eldest son, is also unable to do anything, leaving a 13-year-old girl to take all the credit. This absence of symbols leads to a feminine tone in his stories. The perception of atmosphere and consciousness, and the attention to the surrounding environment are all characteristic of feminine sensitivity.

What does feminine thinking bring? First and foremost is the sentimentalization of thought and a potential hostility towards men. Another important point is the indulgence in fantasy. They would rather believe the testimony of a 13-year-old child than face Robbie's honest and innocent life. Another element brought about by the imbalance between yin and yang is an inappropriate sense of responsibility. When men disappear, the responsibilities that should have been borne by men fall on women. Cecilia and Mrs. Tallis both feel that they should be responsible for this family, although their narrow shoulders cannot bear this burden. Briony, in particular, has a pathological sense of responsibility towards her sister. If it weren't for her protection of her sister, she probably wouldn't have made such a ridiculous mistake.

After his release from prison, Robbie joined the army. During this time, he kept in touch with Cecilia through letters. By now, Cecilia had severed ties with the Tallis family and had become a war nurse. They poured out their love and affection in letters and made an appointment to meet again and start a new life after the war. Briony also gave up her Cambridge degree and became a trainee nurse. The third part is about her career as a trainee nurse. In the hospital, all the dirty work was done by them. In addition to their work, they had to complete the required courses of the school. The guilt and guilt of her childhood became her nightmare. It was in this way that she punished herself. When you put all your mind into scrubbing the utensils in front of you repeatedly, you won't have so much time to be tormented by your conscience. She even attended Robbie's wedding and watched him marry the man who had raped her. Was this a sarcasm or a homecoming?

In Lola's indifferent eyes, Briony understood that everyone knew the truth, but everyone tried to keep quiet. She found Cecilia's residence and met Robbie there. Under her watch, they kissed passionately for a long time. Briony promised to confess to her parents that she had perjured herself, then issue a statement and swear to a lawyer. Then they walked side by side and sent her to the subway station. So far, forgiveness didn't seem impossible, but we who have read the book know that this is not the real ending. The lovers finally got together, but that was just another fantasy of Briony's.

The most ingenious part of the whole book is not the "book within a book" structure, but the way this structure is presented. Remember the letter Briony received from the publisher? She sent her work, "Two on a Seesaw," to the publisher and received a reply. In the letter, the editor commented on the story as follows: ”It captures the stream of consciousness of the characters and presents their subtle differences to the reader,” and ”It describes the perceptions and feelings of each of them in great detail while at the same time depicting light, stone, and water vividly."

Isn't this exactly how we felt when we were reading the first part? It turns out that not only the third part, but the entire Atonement we read was written by Briony. No wonder the description in the whole book is so feminine; no wonder the characters in the second part are slightly thinner than those in the first and third parts, and the description is no longer as complex, and even some unreasonable plots, because it was a story she made up through her imagination, and she couldn't personally experience the life of a retreating army. No wonder time seemed to be frozen in the first part. Briony used this repetitive description to reduce her guilt. That was the beginning of the story, when the crime had not yet been committed. At that time, the veil of emotion had just been lifted, and the lovers had just cleared up their misunderstanding and were about to drink their first sweet wine. She wished time would stop at that moment, instead of the 64 years that followed.

Briony's atonement is not becoming a nurse, but writing, restoring her true, somewhat ugly self, restoring the vain roots of that stupidity, restoring that actually pure love and erasing the tragic ending of the lovers' death in a foreign land. The real story had already ended, it was neither grand nor empty, but it was very hasty and very ruthless.

At the end of the novel, 77-year-old Briony returns to her old home, which has been turned into a hotel. Here, she celebrated her 77th birthday. The play "Arabella's Torment," which was half-finished at that time, was finally successfully staged 64 years later. The unqualified young actors back then had become old and withered in the audience. They were haggard and sentimental, and Briony's torment would also end in slow oblivion.

There is guilt here, and there are people who are deeply in love. If there is only one thing that makes people feel sad, it is not that the crime is unforgivable, but that the crime is unforgivable, because the only 2 people in the world who have the right to forgive her are no longer there.

4.4 / 5 stars

n  

n    “Was everyone else really as alive as she was? … If the answer was yes, then the world, the social world, was unbearably complicated, with two billion voices, and everyone’s thoughts striving in equal importance and everyone’s claim on life as intense, and everyone thinking they were unique, when no one was. One could drown in irrelevance.”n  

n

This was a book I never thought I would ever pick up - or, at least not anytime soon. When I was younger, I watched the movie because a friend said it was her favorite movie (and also because I loved James McAvoy). I was too young to understand the beauty of the story - of all the things that made it real and raw and made parts of younger me shy away. I ended up really disliking the movie being a lover of … a different kind of ending. (I also distrusted and disliked Saoirse Ronan for years but that’s not important). I forgot about the movie and the book until years (we’re talking years) later, I ended up staying with that best friend for a few nights and she, once again, mentioned her love of not just the movie, but the book. She called it her favorite book. Naturally, I had to give it another try.

I’m so glad I did. This book was slow and painful and frustrating and just so real in a way I haven’t experienced with a book in a very long time. I’ll admit (and this is important to note!) the book starts out incredibly slow. I mean painfully slow. I think the main reason this isn’t five stars (jury’s still out, I’m tempted to change my mind update: I did indeed change my mind) is because of how slow it was. Already colored by my childhood dislike of the movie, I nearly put the book down. But then I came onto Goodreads and saw so many people mention the same complaint and telling readers to push through. And here I am. There’s a reason the book starts off so slow (to the point where I was constantly putting it down. It was engaging but also not. It was confusing to feel all this but I wanted to keep going). When you finally understand why the book starts the way it does, it makes you appreciate it (and hurt a little … no, a lot). Briony is trying to remember everything, every single detail, to make up for the time she didn’t but also to prolong the time before it gets to her unspeakable deed. You feel the dread as the moment comes closer.

“The interminable pages about light and stone and water, a narrative split between three different points of view, the hovering stillness of nothing much seeming to happen—none of this could conceal her cowardice. Did she really think she could hide behind some borrowed notions of modern writing, and drown her guilt in a stream—three streams!—of consciousness?”

Basically what I’m saying is, push through the first third, it gets better.

I woke up super early this morning and found myself tempted to go back to sleep. Somehow I ended up picking up Atonement instead. I figured I’d read a few pages in bed and fall back asleep. It’s 2:37 pm and I’m writing this review shortly after finishing the book. Yeah. Somewhere during my reading, towards the end, it started to rain (it’s still raining as I type this). Somehow, this feels really fitting. I can’t tell you why or how, but the feeling that rain brings to the world is how I felt finishing this book. Atonement is artfully written in a way that I’ve never seen another book do. I never thought I could stop hating or forgive Briony after watching the movie so long ago. I don’t know if I forgive her, but I don’t hate her and, at the very least, I actually understand her. It is entirely different watching the movie vs. reading it happen and I started reading with my anger already in place. Every section and perspective was unique and painful and raw. I felt the emotions. I felt Briony’s self-righteousness, Robbie’s anguish and constant need to survive in order to get back to Cecelia, and I felt Cecelia’s love and anger and bitterness. I felt all of it and actually knew what happened before Briony tells us in the end. That was beautifully done. I remember finishing Robbie’s section, shutting the book, and pretending I was okay. I remember the anxiety and stress and terror and horror I felt when the soldiers were brought into the hospital Briony was at. I felt all of that. And more. Atonement also ends in a way I never thought I would like but was left pleasantly appreciative of (and by that I mean there are tears in my eyes).

Atonement was real, even in the parts where it wasn’t. Especially then. You’ll understand what I mean when you read it. And the way it sort of came full circle had me in tears. The book left my heart aching but also hoping. It makes you really really think about life and the decisions one makes in it and how it all impacts everything.

I’m so glad I decided to pick up this book. I look forward to other novels by this author. (Update from future Sara: On Chesil Beach did not disappoint.)

Having recently seen and loved the magnificent film adaptation, I decided to reread Atonement, which quite impressed me when it was first published. And guess what? It was an even more rewarding experience the second time around. Knowing what was coming -- knowing the plot twist at the end -- helped me focus on the quality of the writing rather than on the development of the story, and as always, McEwan's prose completely sucked me in. He is, quite simply, one of the most talented authors alive, and he uses his gift to great effect here.

I'm not really going to go into the plot here, because the less the first-time reader knows about the book, the better. Suffice it to say that it is about an imaginative thirteen-year-old who witnesses a few things she doesn't understand, draws the wrong conclusions and ends up ruining the lives of two people near and dear to her. The first half of the book deals with the event itself and the hours leading up to it; the second half deals with her attempts to, well, deal with it -- atone for it, so to speak.

As always, McEwan excels at setting the scene. His description of a hot summer afternoon in a 1935 English country house is lush and sumptuous, his evocation of a young soldier's struggle to reach home after the disastrous 1940 battle of Dunkirk is haunting, and his look into the horrors of a war-time London hospital is gruesome in all its detail. Amazingly, McEwan manages to find beauty even in the most horrific scenes, which is one of the things which set him apart as a writer. As usual, though, it's the psychological stuff that is really outstanding. McEwan has a knack for taking his readers deep into his characters' minds, letting them share their most intimate, most uncomfortable thoughts and feelings. Sometimes these thoughts are a little disturbing (those of you who have read his earlier works will know what I mean), but usually they have the effect of completely drawing the reader into the story. The latter is definitely the case in Atonement. By presenting the story from different perspectives and vantage points, McEwan provides the reader with a complete and engrossing view of a life-changing event and its aftermath. All the different perspectives ring true, and together they tell a marvellous tale of perception, loyalty, anger, secrets, lost love, shame, guilt, obsession with the past and -- yes -- atonement. And about writing, for more than anything else, Atonement is about the difference between fiction and reality, the power of the imagination and the human urge to write and rewrite history -- to write destiny and play God.

I've heard quite a few people say that they found the first half of the novel too slow and ponderous, wondering why McEwan felt the need to devote nearly two hundred pages to the events of a single day. Personally, I found that part of the book to be utterly brilliant in its rich, Woolf-like glory. As far as I'm concerned, the atmosphere of the first half is superbly drawn, with each character down to the most minor one being well realised and the tensions and suspense at work almost being made tangible. For me, it is the second half of the book which has problems (albeit minor ones), in that I found the jumps in time and perspective jarring and the (otherwise fascinating) chapter about Robbie's adventures in France somewhat unreal. Of course, there are good reasons for the slightly unreal quality of the Dunkirk chapter (which the film captured just brilliantly), but still, it didn't quite work for me; it felt a bit out of place. Thankfully, though, the rest of the book worked just wonderfully for me. Like other McEwan books, it left me with a haunting question -- 'What if...?'

As for McEwan's impressive insight into the mind of a thirteen-year-old girl, which other reviewers have called scary, I think that has everything to do with Briony's being a writer. She is hardly your average thirteen-year-old (I think even McEwan would have a hard time coming up with one of those!); rather she is a writer (a good one), and that, of course, is something McEwan knows all about. As a fellow writer, I greatly enjoyed seeing the world through Briony's eyes, and hope her author will live to her old age and write as many good books as he has her doing.

It's 1935, and 13 year old Bryony has a traumatic day that will eventually impact on her sister, her sister's first lover, and Bryony's entire extended family for the next 65 years! An awesome book, one of the best McEwan's I have read, encompassing the horrors of World War II at home and abroad; McEwan looks at what Bryony can and cannot do as atonement for her fateful actions on that day in 1935. I don't need to watch the film, the book has given me everything! 8 out of 12.

2011 read

There are so many angles and perceptions to consider in this book. Sometimes the end can make a book and that is certainly the case here where the story is left open for interpretation. This is a book that leaves you thinking and considering, making up your own conclusions--and strong enough characters to make you want to.

The first few chapters I did find my mind wandering through lengthy descriptions (I'll call it beautiful, poetic scenery), and yet that scenery set a lackadaisical feel vital to the innocence and peace of that opening day. It's not just the easy-going feel of pre-war life McEwan was portraying. On a second read, I find a strain, a desire to understand every motive and action. And in those details I find sadness that life never moved on. It was played over and over again trying to find meaning and purpose to each detail. The slowness is painstaking analysis. There is a reason for the meticulous care with which each detail is described and the read well worth the persistence to the end.

Even from the beginning I was intrigued with the story and found the characters compelling. I just loved Briony's capricious character, her innocent yet eloquently advanced mind. I could despise the nosy little sister and sympathize with the fearful inactive girl all in one breath. I could hate Paul's conceit and Lola's pleas for attention and understand the muteness all the same. But mostly I could sympathize and relate to Robbie and Cecilia as likable characters, wanting to add more time to their brief, interrupted interactions. I found myself ever-fearful for the end and therefore could not put the book down.

Spoilers in my analysis to death.
Despite Briony's foreshadowing (saying she would rewrite the fountain scene from all perspectives), I did not suspect the end. I expected the separation but not the invention of this whole story. Because of the story in a story format, you can interpret the few authentic scenes anyway you like and not take her word for any of it. That is what I love about the story, particularly on a second read, that I can question motives assigned to characters instead of take it for face value. At one point reading Robbie's thoughts I considered the layers: Ewan writing Briony writing Robbie and paused in awe at McEwan's talent.

Because of the layers, McEwan has the unique opportunity to add insight and symbolism, even study questions as commentary. Take Briony's comment when relieved to see Robbie at Cecilia's that Robbie's death would have been "outlandish, against all odds" and would have made no sense. Or the letter from the editor telling her the story was incomplete: "how might [her misunderstanding:] affect the lives of the two adults?" And while vivid her descriptions of light and shade she should create "light and shade within the narrative itself." To which you can't help but wonder about light and shade in the story and characters. In what other novel can the author analyze his own work and insert his own cues for study?

I was confused at the drastic abbreviation of Robbie's war tour--though I enjoyed considering the shrapnel as a physical expression of his hidden wound. It was so obvious why the section quit there, but I couldn't believe it ended there; I had to hold out hope however thin the thread. I thought Briony's atonement would come as a nurse on duty, and I held my breath waiting for the improbable meeting. Her interaction with the dying French boy showed how much she wanted that redemption from Robbie by consoling and listening to what cannot be fixed. How she longed for closure with him.

I doubt Robbie hated Briony. In her self-deprecation her interpretation is harsh. I think exasperation at a nosy child whom you adore but all of a sudden can't approach because her vivid imagination has turned to fear is sufficient emotion. I liked Robbie enough to think he could have forgiven her. If anything he was the one who was understanding and forgiving while Cecilia was ready to throw out her family to show her commitment to Robbie. I think Cecilia and Robbie were on the verge of forgiving Briony, but Briony could not allow herself to believe so without diminishing her guilt. She states "neither Briony nor the war had destroyed" their love. Even though she says so about her made-up gift of an ending, can't she see some redemptive power for herself, even in the "bleakest realism"?

I was so confused at the unexpected way the reunion scene between Robbie and Celia. It was so implausible and awkward and I wondered how the story had gotten off course and how Robbie had gotten there from France. His reaction was not anything like I expected, that after everything he had been through, he could still hold that much hate for Briony. And yet that was its intention. On a second read, it's one of my favorite parts as she gives us a glimpse of the verbal rebut she so longed for and some of the best layered meanings. I love how her novel sprouted from a desire to amend, but offered as a response to Robbie's invented request: "She knew what was required of her...a new draft, an atonement."

While Briony should take culprit for the loss of several years, she can't for their entire lives, for the years fate and the war stole away. And she can't even take full credit for those years. It was not her "crime" but her interpretation of one that fueled the problem. She spent her life in remorse, letting her decision shape her life and self worth. I think she more than paid her debt for what was a misunderstanding, a mistake, not cruel revenge. She got caught up in her perception and forced facts to fit her assumptions--ones she full-heartedly believed.

It is Lola unwilling to admit her part in the sexual encounter that should be atoning. Paul with his unrepentant spirit that should atone for another man paying for his crime. And even her mother making the improbable leap from inappropriate love letter to assault to break a servant's son connection with her daughter. Surely, she is just as guilty but seems unwillingly to accept her part in losing relationships with both her daughters. Briony is the only one in this story willing to atone for the tragedy. I didn't find her silence at the wedding cowardice: what good would it have served to ruin yet another couple's happiness? Her appearance was sufficient.

I wish Cecilia were more vocal the night they waited for his return. Sure the social class and unacceptable library behavior restrained her, but I wanted passion as proof of her love. Her silence annoyed and confused me as much as Briony's self-righteous witness angered me. But despite her hesitation that night, considering Cecilia's drastic reaction to her family, I want to believe the relationship must have been long-term, more serious. I'd like to think as her atonement Briony was as hard on herself as possible. I want to think that instead of unrequited love there was secret love undiscovered away from home but unable to pass inquisitive eyes. It doesn't atone, but it makes it less severe.

Briony's initial reaction to the fountain scene was that Robbie was proposing marriage. It could be accurate that Briony happened upon a lover's quarrel: Cecilia wanted to keep the relationship hushed from her parents and when Robbie was too personal in broad daylight she snapped. The letter could have been a joke from a guy asking for a moment alone with his girlfriend and in it his hesitance to jump from playful to committed. The story invented, while the most probable, was the most severe option she could conjure up and not the one I wanted to believe. I know I'm grasping at straws, but I want to believe Briony was wrong. The beauty of the story is I can.

The fact that I cared enough about the characters to want that for them, to simmer over it after I closed the book, reluctant to have it end, testifies to the power of the story. Despite my longing, I wouldn't necessarily consider the story of Robbie and Cecilia a complete tragedy. If one had survived to grieve and hate then yes, but to have such intense love (to have "a reason for life" as Cecilia put it) and be reunited after a short time gives their lives meaning and purpose and only makes it tragic for Briony left to regret the consequences of her rash judgment without ever hope of reconciliation. There in lies the tragedy: in a girl's life altered, not in the love story.
Some of my favorite quotes:
It wasn't only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you. And only in a story could you enter there different minds and show how they had a equal value. That was the only moral a story need have.
The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse.
(Robbie of meeting Cecilia) It would be worse, but he still wanted it. he had to have it. He wanted it to be worse.
Every now and then quite unintentionally someone taught you something about yourself.
(Robbie & Cecilia uttering each other's names) It sounded like a new word--the syllables remained the same, the meaning was different.
(Briony on guilt) How quite refined the methods of self-torture, invading the beads of detail into an eternal loop, a rosary to be fingered for a lifetime.
Memories--bleached colorless through overuse.
With the clarity of passion
A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.
She was the sort of girl who lived in her thoughts.
It was common enough to see so much death and want a child, common therefore human, and he wanted it all the more. When the wounded were screaming, you dreamed of sharing a little house somewhere, of an ordinary life, a family line, connection.
Now was her chance to proclaim in public all the private anguish and purge herself of all that she had done wrong. Before the altar of this most rational of churches.
To Briony it appeared her life was gong to be lived in one room without a door.
What she felt was more like homesickness though there was no source for it, no home.