Over the past six months I have been religiously reading books I've gotten from the library, which meant that I was neglecting some books I had 'borrowed' from friends and family over the summer. Since I travelled over the holidays, I decided I couldn't bring library books with me and I dug up a few other books to take with me, including Ian McEwan's Saturday.
The novel follows Henry Perowne, a London neurosurgeon in his late 40's, through 24 hours. Unlike other novels set in the course of one day, there are no other modernist gimmicks. There is a strong plot through the novel, and yet the action exists to push along the true strength of the novel: Perowne's introspection and evaluation of his life.
The Perowne family feel like people I already know. The y are successful, upper middle class, generally happy with a few regrets. Perowne is also the most accurate multi-dimensional literary depiction of a scientist-like individual that I have ever come across. His musing on religion, literature, politics and family all feel like thoughts that I can picture acquaintances or myself having (especially in 20 years). McEwan truly captivated me in the first pages discussing Perowne's love and desire for his wife Rosalind. I actually quoted the pertinent passages to my boyfriend explaining what I want to be said of me in 20 years.
This was the first McEwan novel I've read, and I know I need to read more. I am so sorry I allowed the book to languish on my shelves since this summer. So of course the next McEwan novel I need to read is Atonement (bah-dump da cis!).
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