Amsterdam
took home the prize in 1998. But while Amsterdam was a
slim, sleek piece, Atonement is a more sturdy, more
ambitious work, allowing McEwan more room to play, think, and
experiment.
We meet 13-year-old Briony Tallis in the summer of 1935,
as she attempts to stage a production of her new drama "The
Trials of Arabella" to welcome home her older, idolized
brother Leon.
But she soon discovers that her cousins, the glamorous
Lola and the twin boys Jackson and Pierrot, aren't up to the
task, and directorial ambitions are abandoned as more
interesting prospects of preoccupation come onto the
scene.
The charlady's son, Robbie Turner, appears to be forcing
Briony's sister Cecilia to strip in the fountain and sends her
obscene letters; Leon has brought home a dim chocolate magnate
keen for a war to promote his new "Army Ammo"
chocolate bar; and upstairs, Briony's migraine-stricken mother
Emily keeps tabs on the house from her bed. Soon, secrets emerge
that change the lives of everyone present....
The interwar, upper-middle-class setting of the book's
long, masterfully sustained opening section might recall
Virginia Woolf or Henry Green, but as we move
forward--eventually to the turn of the 21st century--the novel's
central concerns emerge, and McEwan's voice becomes clear, even
personal.
For at heart, Atonement is about the pleasures,
pains, and dangers of writing, and perhaps even more, about the
challenge of controlling what readers make of your
writing.
McEwan shouldn't have any doubts about readers of Atonement:
this is a thoughtful, provocative, and at times moving book that
will have readers applauding. --Alan Stewart, Amazon.co.uk