, ,

Late last week, as if my friend knew I was in desperate need of a new read, she handed me a physical copy of Ian McEwan’s Atonement.  I had wanted to read this novel ever since I first heard of it, but I had put it off for a while. I have a hard time diving into something that I know will make me sad. (There’s a reason why I’m refusing to watch this past episode of Game of Thrones.)


I prefer this cover. A little girl pushes the events into motion. A little girl deserves the cover.

However, with a lack of anything better to read on hand, I decided to give it a go. I’m not quite yet 200 pages in, but I’m already deeply in love with McEwan’s writing. I’m no literary expert, and I don’t have a degree in English. I just know pretty immediately whether I find an author’s style of writing attractive and if I find myself wanting to read more. This is the case with McEwan and the novel. He writes deliberately and beautifully.


Of course this is how I'm imagining the characters.

Of course this is how I’m imagining the characters.

Yesterday I read a part of the book that made my heart drop a little. Now, finally, with the exercise of will, his adult life had begun. There was a story he was plotting with himself as the hero” The character then goes on to imagine a possible life in fifteen years and so on. The movie version of this novel came out a while ago, and so I am already familiar with what happens next. And I think that’s why these early moments are so upsetting.

Anyway, I expect to be finished with this book by the end of the week. I’m sure I won’t write a review afterwards. I can barely trust my opinion on something. I won’t subject anyone else to it.