Book Review: Atonement
Published in 2001 by Ian McEwan, Atonement unfolds during the years of World War II and is crafted with a Modernist tradition of writing and understanding rare to such a present time in our history. Whether it’s McEwan’s ability to connect a modern audience to a tense and horrific period in time, or whether his engaging grasp on the English language makes the novel what it is, it’s hard to deny the magic of Atonement—a book that quickly became one of my favorites.
Many enjoy Atonement for the romantic and, in some ways, forbidden relationship between the independent-minded Cecilia and the strong-willed Robbie, but to consider the book merely a love story diminishes its worth. Atonement is, simply put, a puzzle composed of words, dubious narration, and complex composition. Arguably split into three sections—whose clarity and certainty declines at the novel’s completion—the final part inspires an emotional reaction of unanticipated strength. McEwan daringly challenges not only the way we read a book, but ideas of truth and history and ironically good and evil. Whether the story is overwhelmingly Briony’s or falsely so can be debated, but McEwan does not allow us one absolute answer. The novel’s end tears up what we thought we knew, betrays us, and puts us in a completely different state of mind than we began or even possessed for the majority of the book. The strong moral and emotional impact of Atonement, as well as the so easily shattered or cemented depth of its characters, proves McEwan’s talent as a writer who lives and breathes the written word.
Atonement presents a rich story that blurs the roles of fiction of nonfiction, of truth and the appearance of it, and whether any of it matters in the long run. Perhaps the most tragic element rests with the frightening reality of how ordinary and commonplace it all seems in our own world. Yet how many books nowadays grasp us by our souls and cause us to cry out in anger or demand justice for its actions—which are, in their purest form, fictional? McEwan understands that a novel’s worth emerges from the reader’s mind, and he fully and beautifully exploits that knowledge. My outrage will remain with me for some time, although perhaps the frustration partly lies with the readers, who are no less flawed human beings than the characters in the story. All personal confliction aside, Atonement is so bursting with life and the tragedy and irony that so often accompanies it, that not experiencing it seems a crime in itself.
