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Atonement: Mcewan Ian Paperback – 2 May 2002
| Ian McEwan (Author) See search results for this author |
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Discover the modern classic that has sold over two million copies.
‘A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended’
On the hottest day of the summer of 1935, thirteen-year-old Briony Tallis sees her sister Cecilia strip off her clothes and plunge into the fountain in the garden of their country house.
Watching her too is Robbie Turner who, like Cecilia, has recently come down from Cambridge. By the end of that day, the lives of all three will have been changed for ever, as Briony commits a crime for which she will spend the rest of her life trying to atone.
'The best thing he has ever written' Observer
**ONE OF THE GUARDIAN'S 100 BEST BOOKS OF THE 21st CENTURY**
- Print length384 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherVintage
- Publication date2 May 2002
- Dimensions12.9 x 2.9 x 19.7 cm
- ISBN-109780099429791
- ISBN-13978-0099429791
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Product description
Review
A superb achievement ― New York Times
The best thing he has ever written ― Observer
He is this country's unrivalled literary giant...a fascinatingly strange, unique and gripping novel ― Independent on Sunday
McEwan's best novel so far, his masterpiece ― Evening Standard
A beautiful and majestic fictional panorama -- John Updike
Subtle as well as powerful, adeptly encompassing comedy as well as atrocity, Atonement is a richly intricate book... A superb achievement ― Sunday Times
Atonement is a masterpiece...it is also an elegy to a time which, however volatile, still had certainties ― The Times
An evocative depiction of the dangers of innocence and ignorance in the face of uncomfortable reality. ― Herald
Brilliantly explores the currents of guilt, shame and anger... Utterly satisfying, complete ― Scotsman
A complex, thought-provoking novel. -- Fanny Blake ― Woman and Home
Smoulders with slow-burning menace ― The Times
An astonishing narrative... a novel that stick with you long after you finish it -- Rich Clarke ― Week
From the Publisher
From the Back Cover
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The play - for which Briony had designed the posters, programmes and tickets, constructed the sales booth out of a folding screen tipped on its side, and lined the collection box in red crêpe paper - was written by her in a two-day tempest of composition, causing her to miss a break- fast and a lunch. When the preparations were complete, she had nothing to do but contemplate her finished draft and wait for the appearance of her cousins from the distant north. There would be time for only one day of rehearsal before her brother arrived. At some moments chilling, at others desperately sad, the play told a tale of the heart whose message, conveyed in a rhyming prologue, was that love which did not build a foundation on good sense was doomed. The reckless passion of the heroine, Arabella, for a wicked foreign count is punished by ill fortune when she contracts cholera during an impetuous dash towards a seaside town with her intended. Deserted by him and nearly everybody else, bed-bound in a garret, she discovers in herself a sense of humour. Fortune presents her a second chance in the form of an impoverished doctor -in fact, a prince in disguise who has elected to work among the needy. Healed by him, Arabella chooses judiciously this time, and is rewarded by reconciliation with her family and a wedding with the medical prince on 'a windy sunlit day in spring'.
Mrs Tallis read the seven pages of The Trials of Arabella in her bedroom, at her dressing table, with the author's arm around her shoulder the whole while. Briony studied her mother's face for every trace of shifting emotion, and Emily Tallis obliged with looks of alarm, snickers of glee and, at the end, grateful smiles and wise, affirming nods. She took her daughter in her arms, onto her lap -ah, that hot smooth little body she remembered from its infancy, and still not gone from her, not quite yet -and said that the play was 'stupendous ',and agreed instantly, murmuring into the tight whorl of the girl's ear, that this word could be quoted on the poster which was to be on an easel in the entrance hall by the ticket booth.
Briony was hardly to know it then, but this was the project's highest point of fulfilment. Nothing came near it for satisfaction, all else was dreams and frustration. There were moments in the summer dusk after her light was out, burrowing in the delicious gloom of her canopy bed, when she made her heart thud with luminous, yearning fantasies, little playlets in themselves, every one of which featured Leon. In one, his big, good-natured face buckled in grief as Arabella sank in loneliness and despair. In another, there he was, cocktail in hand at some fashionable city watering hole, overheard boasting to a group of friends: Yes, my younger sister, Briony Tallis the writer, you must surely have heard of her. In a third he punched the air in exultation as the final curtain fell, although there was no curtain, there was no possibility of a curtain. Her play was not for her cousins, it was for her brother, to celebrate his return, provoke his admiration and guide him away from his careless succession of girlfriends, towards the right form of wife, the one who would persuade him to return to the countryside, the one who would sweetly request Briony's services as a bridesmaid.
She was one of those children possessed by a desire to have the world just so. Whereas her big sister's room was a stew of unclosed books, unfolded clothes, unmade bed, unemptied ashtrays, Briony's was a shrine to her controlling demon: the model farm spread across a deep window ledge consisted of the usual animals, but all facing one way -towards their owner -as if about to break into song, and even the farmyard hens were neatly corralled. In fact, Briony's was the only tidy upstairs room in the house. Her straight-backed dolls in their many-roomed mansion appeared to be under strict instructions not to touch the walls; the various thumb-sized figures to be found standing about her dressing table -cowboys, deep-sea divers, humanoid mice -suggested by their even ranks and spacing a citizen's army awaiting orders.
A taste for the miniature was one aspect of an orderly spirit. Another was a passion for secrets: in a prized varnished cabinet, a secret drawer was opened by pushing against the grain of a cleverly turned dovetail joint, and here she kept a diary locked by a clasp, and a notebook written in a code of her own invention. In a toy safe opened by six secret numbers she stored letters and postcards. An old tin petty cash box was hidden under a removable floorboard beneath her bed. In the box were treasures that dated back four years, to her ninth birthday when she began collecting: a mutant double acorn, fool's gold, a rain-making spell bought at a funfair, a squirrel's skull as light as a leaf.
But hidden drawers, lockable diaries and cryptographic systems could not conceal from Briony the simple truth: she had no secrets. Her wish for a harmonious, organised world denied her the reckless possibilities of wrongdoing. Mayhem and destruction were too chaotic for her tastes, and she did not have it in her to be cruel. Her effective status as an only child, as well as the relative isolation of the Tallis house, kept her, at least during the long summer holidays, from girlish intrigues with friends. Nothing in her life was sufficiently interesting or shameful to merit hiding; no one knew about the squirrel's skull beneath her bed, but no one wanted to know. None of this was particularly an affliction; or rather, it appeared so only in retrospect, once a solution had been found.
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Product details
- ASIN : 0099429799
- Publisher : Vintage; 1st edition (2 May 2002)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 384 pages
- ISBN-10 : 9780099429791
- ISBN-13 : 978-0099429791
- Dimensions : 12.9 x 2.9 x 19.7 cm
- Best Sellers Rank: 4,416 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- 680 in Historical Romance (Books)
- 981 in Historical Fiction (Books)
- 1,007 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer reviews:
About the author

Ian McEwan is a critically acclaimed author of short stories and novels for adults, as well as The Daydreamer, a children's novel illustrated by Anthony Browne. His first published work, a collection of short stories, First Love, Last Rites, won the Somerset Maugham Award. His other award-winning novels are The Child in Time, which won the 1987 Whitbread Novel of the Year Award, and Amsterdam, which won the 1998 Booker Prize.
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The first, set in a country house during the oppressively hot summer of 1935, is the build up to the commission of a terrible crime. The offence is the false accusation made by one of the three main characters, Briony, against another. She knows the accusation is at best doubtful, and probably false, but she persists in it, even under oath, to the point of wrecking the life chances of a man who isn’t just innocent but also did her nothing but good.
This is the crime for which atonement must be made.
Five years later, we find ourselves plunged, again in sweltering heat, into the middle of the British Army’s catastrophic retreat in front of German armoured troops through Northern France to Dunkirk. This is the most powerful account I have read of the torment felt by individual men, especially a wounded man, struggling to keep up with what was practically a rout – undisciplined, chaotic and painful. It’s a tribute to the research McEwan carried out at the Imperial War Museum in London that he was able to capture the atmosphere of that harrowing time, and further proof of his outstanding qualities as a writer that he could convey them so vividly.
And the third nightmare is the one experienced again by Briony, in a first step towards atonement, as she trains to be a nurse at a hospital recognisable as St Thomas’s in London. That culminates in an extraordinary day of frightening and intense work, as she nurses wounded men from the Dunkirk evacuation. McEwan gives us a detailed account of the many hours she works, with men lightly injured, with men suffering terrible but treatable wounds, with men who cannot be saved.
Finally, there is a kind of coda in which McEwan deepens the dreamlike feeling of the novel still further. Because he leaves us wondering whether what he has given us is a novel of his own creation, or one written by Briony herself, a character he created. We see her going from a first attempt at writing the story, rejected by a publisher who nonetheless gives her excellent advice on how to improve it, to the final work, the one we’ve just read. And she asks us whether she hasn’t told the story as it deserves to be told. She tells us that she could have changed its details is significant ways but chose not to, and calls on us, the readers, to agree that she was right.
This reader is sure she is. My view is that Briony turned an indifferent first draft into an excellent novel. And Ian McEwan did well to make her work, and his own, available to us.
In a strange way I felt that not much happened throughout the novel yet I was intrigued and captured by the characters and their thoughts. It is definitely a slow mover of a story and although this is what turns a lot of people off the book, it is instead what made me love it. For me, the beauty was in the structure of the novel and the different writing styles that McEwan employed.
The first part is told from different perspectives whereas in parts two and three he switches to follow two characters' journeys. The final section of the book really made me think - McEwan somehow brings everything into doubt and makes you question the beautiful and emotional story that he has set out. I sat and pondered on it by myself for a while and then wanted to know how people interpreted the ending and what their thoughts were on the story as well. I love it when a book does that to me.
The narrative at its core starts like Downton Abbey but phases into scenes that make that first 30mins of Saving Private Ryan feel pedestrian . Start to end this is a technical tour de force of wordmanship....the author must be at the peak of his powers. That would be enough but the structure into which this has been folded is quite superb.The story has been skillfully wrapped up into an essay on novel writing itself and there is even a segment - delivered as a rejection letter from a publisher - that appears to be a commentary on an earlier draft of the novel you are reading.
Best thing I have read in a long time. Maybe ever. And one i suspect that will reward a revisit.
Highly recommended.
As someone that hates skimming and skipping when reading, it pains me to say this, but this book could easily have been told in a quarter of the pages. As others have said, the story doesn't even start until half way through. (This is not an exageration, I looked at the % on my Kindle.)
If you enjoy reading about war, both at The Front and in hospitals, this book could be for you, but otherwise don't put yourself through the unnecessary pain.
Ironically, Wikipedia has a decent summary of the book in a couple of screens. Q.E.D.








