It's an odd feeling, this anger. I've never felt it before toward an author or a book I've read. I've read books that disappointed me, books that betrayed me by their banality, books that I've hated but never a book that made me want to hurl it across the room in anger and hit the author. What happened?
I was with this book from the get go; it had me captivated. I was completely drawn into this world and its characters. I had absolute feelings for each and every one of them. We are first introduced to Briony Tallis, a 13 year old British girl who wishes to become an author. She is the villain of the piece because she has the kind of imagination that must create a story for every chain of events, despite the fact that, at thirteen, she doesn't have the understanding to do so successfully. She witnesses a scene from the playroom window involving her adult sister, Cecilia and the charlady's son, Robbie. She doesn't understand the sexual tension involved and describes to herself a scene of malevolence and perversion. Later, after a few more misunderstood events, her testimony sends Robbie off to prison.
Part two of the novel takes place in France, where Robbie is part of the retreat taking place at Dunkirk. He has been released early from prison upon his agreement to fight in the war. This is an amazing section of the book. McEwan writes the hell out of Robbie's experiences. I'm not sure that I took a breath for the full 70 pages of part two. It doesn't forward the initial plot very much, but it does add a whole new dimension to the idea of atonement.
Part three takes place in London, where a grown up Briony is working as a nurse. She realizes her errors and the nursing is part of her personal atonement. This is another well written section which pulled me into the era and the horror of the war. There is a small scene that seemed to me like a misstep on the author's part; Briony writes the story of what she saw from the playroom window and sends it off to a magazine for publication. The story is rejected for being too vague and stream of conscience. "Poof," I thought, "what does this have to do with anything?" But a few pages later, I found out that it does.
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? The evasions of her little novel were exactly those of her life. Everything she did not wish to confront was also missing from her novella-and was necessary to it. What was she to do now? It was not the backbone of a story that she lacked. It was backbone.
Redeemed. The tiny misstep has been redeemed. How will McEwan atone for his giant misstep at the end (also known as London 1999)? I'm afraid that I can't discuss what I hated so much about this ending without talking about the plot. I can't discuss McEwan's betrayal of me, the reader, without giving things away. THIS IS YOUR SPOILER ALERT! Stop reading now if you care.
What so destroyed any enjoyment that I had gained for this novel is that when we fast forward to 1999, we discover that Briony is now an old woman and attending her birthday party, surrounded by her adoring young relatives. Since when does Briony deserve such adoration? Not since I started reading the novel. But okay, even Hitler had friends. Then we learn that Briony has polished up her novella, added to it and it has become the novel we have just read. A crappy ending to be sure, but Briony has also fucked with the details, just to piss me off even more. For example, the young couple separated by her misunderstanding as a child have not been reunited after all, but died during the war. Everything that we have just read unravels in that moment. It's all been a big fat lie as far as I'm concerned and that just isn't right. If I'm reading a story, I want to believe in that story entirely. If I shouldn't believe,I want the narrative to clue me in along the way-give me that unreliable narrator, give me shifting perspectives and contradictory facts- just don't slap it on as a postscript-like ending.
McEwan owes me.
16 comments:
Beautifully put, Beepy. No sarcasm: beautifully, feelingly put. It was a base betrayal of his readers, and no hip post-modern talk about deconstructing the narrative's burden of faith can make that right. It's a fundamental abuse of the storyteller's art.
Did you see the movie? How does that compare? Do we have the betrayal at the end?
The betrayal is there at the end, yes - but after two hours of staring at Jamie MacAvoy, who cares?
Ooh, that's pretty low. I have a similar reaction when movie directors pull that stunt. My reaction is something like, "Oh, so none of that was real? Then fuck you to hell, Mr. lowlife Director." Even if that reaction can't be rationally justified in an argument with hip post-modernists, it's extremely palpable and not going away. So unless that's the exact emotion authors wants to engender when they do that, they should try some other gimmick.
Ah, interesting question. I think in that instance use of the gimmick was internal enough to the story to justify it.
Surprise twists aren't the enemy per se, it's when the shock seems more designed to highlight the author/director's genius than to advance the story. Twists can be either clever or a betrayal, depending on how they are handled.
No Brian, the twist in "The Usual Suspects" arose naturally. I don't think that we, as viewers, were every on solid ground in the movie. I think all along, we were working to connect things and come up with a linear plot line. So when the twist comes, it fits. It doesn't deny what's gone on before; it's a new way of looking at it.
What pissed me off about "Atonement" was that it wasn't a twist. We were brought into a conventional novelistic setup. It followed all the rules of storytelling. Then, bam, the ending, which came out of nowhere and, to me, for no good reason. It was more like Bobby Ewing stepping out of the shower.
I'm with Jeff, and I'm with Steve, and most of all, I'm with Beepy 100%. Weak-ass storytelling. And not so much a 'twist' as a 'oh, that stuff you read (absorbed, collaborated with, embraced?) - eh, disregard it. Tee hee. Didn't see that coming, did you? Nope - and neither did the author/director earn it.
I also agree that the Usual Suspects is a different animal. Speaking of animal - this kind of thing (or a variation of it) is what ruined Life of Pi for me (which was a decent enough beach-read until the rug-out-from-under end).
Oh jeez, now I'll have to read "Life of Pi" just to compare lame endings with "Atonement."
By the way, the Mama Chan says that there was a novel(la) that predates "Life of Pi" but has a suspiciously similiar plot. She says that it is much better. I think the author was Mordecai Sclair. I'll try to find the title for those who might care.
Some internet searching has led me to
this article on the subject (as well as an online Q & A, in which Martel comes off as something of an asshole while answering questions about plagerism). Fascinating!
Ooops, I blew it. The author's name is Moacyr Sclair and the book is "Max and the Cats." BN.com says "Cloaked among the leopard skins in his father's Berlin fur shop, young Max Schmidt grows up dreaming of adventure and intrigue. When as a young man an illicit affair gets him denounced to the Nazi secret police, Max barely escapes on a freighter -- only to founder off the coast of South America. Trapped in a dinghy with a hungry jaguar, he believes his days are numbered -- until he washes ashore on the coast of Brazil prepared to begin life anew. But just when he thinks he has left behind the cats of his youth, another appears...and Max realizes the time has come to take his destiny into his own hands."
Kevin, I checked out your link. Martel comes off as a first rate prick (is that better than a second rate prick or worse?) Thanks for the link.
I read that last quote and I have a hard time believing Martel would say such a thing on the record. I don't know, maybe it's just the skeptic in me, but he would have to be a real JACK-ASS.
Then again, he IS a writer.
Well, he certainly used a lot of imagination in making that comment!
The 'lesser writer' quote is slightly out of context, but is nothing compared to some of his comments on this online Q & A.
Mr. Martel is clearly a principal member of the set of real jackasses.
The more you think about it, the fishier his story sounds, too. He claims to have read a negative review of "Max and the Cats" by Updike, but not read the actual book. Since not only did Updike never review "Max and the Cats", but it's my understanding that reviews of the book were overwhelmingly positive - was Martel simply covering his tracks for the eventual plagiarism lawsuit?
Either way, he seems to be a douchebag.
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