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Black Dogs
Set in late 1980s Europe at the time of the fall of the Berlin Wall, "Black Dogs" is the intimate story of the crumbling of a marriage, as witnessed by an outsider.
Jeremy is the son-in-law of Bernard and June Tremaine, whose union and estrangement began almost simultaneously. Seeking to comprehend how their deep love could be defeated by ideological differences Bernard and June cannot reconcile, Jeremy undertakes writing June's memoirs, only to be led back again and again to one terrifying encounter forty years earlier - a moment that, for June, was as devastating and irreversible in its consequences as the changes sweeping Europe in Jeremy's own time.
In a finely crafted, compelling examination of evil and grace, Ian McEwan weaves the sinister reality of civilisation's darkest moods - its black dogs - with the tensions that both create love and destroy it.
Jeremy is the son-in-law of Bernard and June Tremaine, whose union and estrangement began almost simultaneously. Seeking to comprehend how their deep love could be defeated by ideological differences Bernard and June cannot reconcile, Jeremy undertakes writing June's memoirs, only to be led back again and again to one terrifying encounter forty years earlier - a moment that, for June, was as devastating and irreversible in its consequences as the changes sweeping Europe in Jeremy's own time.
In a finely crafted, compelling examination of evil and grace, Ian McEwan weaves the sinister reality of civilisation's darkest moods - its black dogs - with the tensions that both create love and destroy it.
149 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1992
About the author
Ian McEwan
133 books17.1k followersIan McEwan studied at the University of Sussex, where he received a BA degree in English Literature in 1970 and later received his MA degree in English Literature at the University of East Anglia.
McEwan's works have earned him worldwide critical acclaim. He won the Somerset Maugham Award in 1976 for his first collection of short stories First Love, Last Rites; the Whitbread Novel Award (1987) and the Prix Fémina Etranger (1993) for The Child in Time; and Germany's Shakespeare Prize in 1999. He has been shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize for Fiction numerous times, winning the award for Amsterdam in 1998. His novel Atonement received the WH Smith Literary Award (2002), National Book Critics' Circle Fiction Award (2003), Los Angeles Times Prize for Fiction (2003), and the Santiago Prize for the European Novel (2004). He was awarded a CBE in 2000. In 2006, he won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for his novel Saturday and his novel On Chesil Beach was named Galaxy Book of the Year at the 2008 British Book Awards where McEwan was also named Reader's Digest Author of the Year.
McEwan lives in London.
McEwan's works have earned him worldwide critical acclaim. He won the Somerset Maugham Award in 1976 for his first collection of short stories First Love, Last Rites; the Whitbread Novel Award (1987) and the Prix Fémina Etranger (1993) for The Child in Time; and Germany's Shakespeare Prize in 1999. He has been shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize for Fiction numerous times, winning the award for Amsterdam in 1998. His novel Atonement received the WH Smith Literary Award (2002), National Book Critics' Circle Fiction Award (2003), Los Angeles Times Prize for Fiction (2003), and the Santiago Prize for the European Novel (2004). He was awarded a CBE in 2000. In 2006, he won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for his novel Saturday and his novel On Chesil Beach was named Galaxy Book of the Year at the 2008 British Book Awards where McEwan was also named Reader's Digest Author of the Year.
McEwan lives in London.
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November 27, 2024
INCONTRO FATALE
Alex Colville: Family and Rainstorm (1955).
Ian McEwan torna a Berlino: c’era già stato per ambientare il suo romanzo precedente, il magnifico The Innocent – Lettera a Berlino, e ci torna adesso, ai giorni del novembre 1989, quando la città si è riunita, est e ovest si sono congiunte, il muro è stato scavalcato, aperto, e poi demolito.
Ma in questo caso, Berlino non è l’ambientazione principale.
Forse non lo è neppure il sud della Francia, ma per l’episodio che vi succede, è quella la parte di mondo che contende a Berlino lo scettro dell’attenzione, la vetta narrativa.
Perché è qui che, durante il viaggio di nozze, che June viene attaccata da due enormi cani neri: randagi, selvaggi, mostri dall’aspetto mitologico, allegoria del Male (più tardi si scopre che sono cani molossi usati dai nazisti).
L’episodio si carica di valenze simboliche e June sente d’essersi salvata per miracolo. Ergo, abbraccia una nuova fede, non più quella comunista, ma una che contempli appunto i miracoli, sia rivolta a un qualche dio: una fede religiosa.
Che nel corso del tempo completerà con misticismo e spiritualità tra yoga e fiori.
L’amore avvincente che univa June al suo promesso sposo Bernard, col quale condivideva oltre la passione una visione del mondo di dichiarata impronta marxista, s’incrina a partire da questo momento. Già nel viaggio di nozze (1946).
Ciò nonostante resteranno insieme per generare una figlia, Jenny, e crescerla per un periodo. Poi, si lasceranno.
Ma i “cani neri” tornano: questa volta sotto forma di un gruppo di naziskin che aggredisce Bernard nella Berlino riunificata.
A raccontare tutto questo è Jeremy, orfano dall’età di otto anni, sposato proprio con Jenny, direttore di una piccola casa editrice. Jeremy è in perenne ricerca di essere simbolicamente adottato, ambisce a ritrovare due nuovi genitori: da piccolo ha provato con quelli dei suoi migliori amici, adesso invece è nei suoceri, per quanto separati, che sente d’aver trovato ostello affettivo.
Mi è sembrato un McEwan meno ispirato del solito, al punto che ho cominciato a diradare la mia frequentazione della sua letteratura, intensa negli anni a precedere.
Forse tanta, troppa carne al fuoco: essere giovani durante la guerra, essere giovani durante il nazismo – incluso detour al lager polacco di Majdanek - crescere credendo nel comunismo, assistere al divenire dei paesi sotto il controllo sovietico fino ad arrivare al crollo del muro e al dissolversi della vecchia Unione, lo scontro tra chi dal marxismo passa alla religione e chi invece rimane fedele a quella interpretazione, nonostante tutto quello che succede a partire dal 1989 – il tutto cucito dell’io narrante impersonato da Jeremy, che si accinge a scrivere un memoir su richiesta della suocera ormai anziana e malata. Due visioni del mondo e della vita che finiscono col contrapporsi, che Jeremy col suo amore – e con la sua ricerca di amore – dovrebbe riuscire a conciliare. Ma senza successo.
Le Gole della Vis, nei cui boschi June incontra i cani neri.
Non so dire se la nostra civiltà che ormai si affaccia alla fine di questo millennio soffra più per una mancanza o per un eccesso di fede, se siano stati individui come Bernard e June a ridurci così, o non piuttosto tipi come me.
Ma forse anche una trama un po’ troppo arzigogolata, perfino per uno come McEwan che non sceglie mai intrecci lineari, quelli che vanno da A a B senza deviazioni.
Alex Colville: Family and Rainstorm (1955).
Ian McEwan torna a Berlino: c’era già stato per ambientare il suo romanzo precedente, il magnifico The Innocent – Lettera a Berlino, e ci torna adesso, ai giorni del novembre 1989, quando la città si è riunita, est e ovest si sono congiunte, il muro è stato scavalcato, aperto, e poi demolito.
Ma in questo caso, Berlino non è l’ambientazione principale.
Forse non lo è neppure il sud della Francia, ma per l’episodio che vi succede, è quella la parte di mondo che contende a Berlino lo scettro dell’attenzione, la vetta narrativa.
Perché è qui che, durante il viaggio di nozze, che June viene attaccata da due enormi cani neri: randagi, selvaggi, mostri dall’aspetto mitologico, allegoria del Male (più tardi si scopre che sono cani molossi usati dai nazisti).
L’episodio si carica di valenze simboliche e June sente d’essersi salvata per miracolo. Ergo, abbraccia una nuova fede, non più quella comunista, ma una che contempli appunto i miracoli, sia rivolta a un qualche dio: una fede religiosa.
Che nel corso del tempo completerà con misticismo e spiritualità tra yoga e fiori.
L’amore avvincente che univa June al suo promesso sposo Bernard, col quale condivideva oltre la passione una visione del mondo di dichiarata impronta marxista, s’incrina a partire da questo momento. Già nel viaggio di nozze (1946).
Ciò nonostante resteranno insieme per generare una figlia, Jenny, e crescerla per un periodo. Poi, si lasceranno.
Ma i “cani neri” tornano: questa volta sotto forma di un gruppo di naziskin che aggredisce Bernard nella Berlino riunificata.
A raccontare tutto questo è Jeremy, orfano dall’età di otto anni, sposato proprio con Jenny, direttore di una piccola casa editrice. Jeremy è in perenne ricerca di essere simbolicamente adottato, ambisce a ritrovare due nuovi genitori: da piccolo ha provato con quelli dei suoi migliori amici, adesso invece è nei suoceri, per quanto separati, che sente d’aver trovato ostello affettivo.
Mi è sembrato un McEwan meno ispirato del solito, al punto che ho cominciato a diradare la mia frequentazione della sua letteratura, intensa negli anni a precedere.
Forse tanta, troppa carne al fuoco: essere giovani durante la guerra, essere giovani durante il nazismo – incluso detour al lager polacco di Majdanek - crescere credendo nel comunismo, assistere al divenire dei paesi sotto il controllo sovietico fino ad arrivare al crollo del muro e al dissolversi della vecchia Unione, lo scontro tra chi dal marxismo passa alla religione e chi invece rimane fedele a quella interpretazione, nonostante tutto quello che succede a partire dal 1989 – il tutto cucito dell’io narrante impersonato da Jeremy, che si accinge a scrivere un memoir su richiesta della suocera ormai anziana e malata. Due visioni del mondo e della vita che finiscono col contrapporsi, che Jeremy col suo amore – e con la sua ricerca di amore – dovrebbe riuscire a conciliare. Ma senza successo.
Le Gole della Vis, nei cui boschi June incontra i cani neri.
Non so dire se la nostra civiltà che ormai si affaccia alla fine di questo millennio soffra più per una mancanza o per un eccesso di fede, se siano stati individui come Bernard e June a ridurci così, o non piuttosto tipi come me.
Ma forse anche una trama un po’ troppo arzigogolata, perfino per uno come McEwan che non sceglie mai intrecci lineari, quelli che vanno da A a B senza deviazioni.
September 1, 2017
I have read many Ian McEwans, and I am always divided whether I like them or not. There is a witty analysis of contemporary life that appeals to me, put into occasionally brilliant prose. There are characters with interesting traits, and plots that usually have an abrupt twist in the end.
It uses to be an entertaining and quick reading experience between heavier, more thought-provoking and more linguistically challenging (and satisfying) classics or historical nonfiction.
But this was below par, even considering my moderate expectations. It makes the impression that the author wanted to answer the ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything, but without the humorous focus of Douglas Adams, and without the number 42 guiding him through the maze of geopolitical and historical issues that haunt humankind.
He touches on the problems of disillusionment of old communists, but drops it before gaining the power of a Koestler, then moves on to the kind of communist reflection Lessing offers in The Golden Notebook, interweaving the political with personal, intimate relationships, but again without elaborating and giving the characters depth.
There is a tedious discourse between two characters regarding religion versus atheism, without offering any new angle or solution, of course.
“You are in separate realms”, is the solution offered by the protagonist-narrator, not very helpful, as the characters are still presiding over their different world view realms in the same room, and it is “going round and round”.
Throw in short reflections on the Berlin Wall, and the Holocaust, and sex and family life in the 1980s, and being an orphan and turning into a cuckoo in other people’s families, and you are far away from the supposed main theme (according to the title) of depression: Black Dogs.
“So June´s idea was that if one dog was a personal depression, two dogs were a kind of cultural depression, civilisation´s worst moods.”
It is a typically short McEwan novel, and all these diverse topics are too important to be mentioned en passant, while the characters randomly discuss different anecdotes from their respective pasts.
Too much and too little, at the same time, which the narrator seems to subconsciously understand while he is struggling to keep the story together:
“I am uncertain whether our civilisation at this turn of the millennium is cursed by too much or too little belief, whether people like Bernard and June cause the trouble, or people like me.”
Unfortunately, the narrator can’t make the arithmetic mean between the extreme positions work out either, as the ideas are in different realms… If you take a couple of apples and pears, add them together, and then divide them by two, you do not get a perfect pearapple, but rather a mash, which is what this book is to me.
In the realm of my literary universe, this one sank to the bottom of the ocean.
It uses to be an entertaining and quick reading experience between heavier, more thought-provoking and more linguistically challenging (and satisfying) classics or historical nonfiction.
But this was below par, even considering my moderate expectations. It makes the impression that the author wanted to answer the ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything, but without the humorous focus of Douglas Adams, and without the number 42 guiding him through the maze of geopolitical and historical issues that haunt humankind.
He touches on the problems of disillusionment of old communists, but drops it before gaining the power of a Koestler, then moves on to the kind of communist reflection Lessing offers in The Golden Notebook, interweaving the political with personal, intimate relationships, but again without elaborating and giving the characters depth.
There is a tedious discourse between two characters regarding religion versus atheism, without offering any new angle or solution, of course.
“You are in separate realms”, is the solution offered by the protagonist-narrator, not very helpful, as the characters are still presiding over their different world view realms in the same room, and it is “going round and round”.
Throw in short reflections on the Berlin Wall, and the Holocaust, and sex and family life in the 1980s, and being an orphan and turning into a cuckoo in other people’s families, and you are far away from the supposed main theme (according to the title) of depression: Black Dogs.
“So June´s idea was that if one dog was a personal depression, two dogs were a kind of cultural depression, civilisation´s worst moods.”
It is a typically short McEwan novel, and all these diverse topics are too important to be mentioned en passant, while the characters randomly discuss different anecdotes from their respective pasts.
Too much and too little, at the same time, which the narrator seems to subconsciously understand while he is struggling to keep the story together:
“I am uncertain whether our civilisation at this turn of the millennium is cursed by too much or too little belief, whether people like Bernard and June cause the trouble, or people like me.”
Unfortunately, the narrator can’t make the arithmetic mean between the extreme positions work out either, as the ideas are in different realms… If you take a couple of apples and pears, add them together, and then divide them by two, you do not get a perfect pearapple, but rather a mash, which is what this book is to me.
In the realm of my literary universe, this one sank to the bottom of the ocean.
April 27, 2021
Black Dogs, Ian McEwan
Black Dogs is a 1992 novel by the British author Ian McEwan.
It concerns the aftermath of the Nazi era in Europe, and how the fall of the Berlin Wall in the late 1980's affected those who once saw Communism as a way forward for society.
The main characters travel to France, where they encounter disturbing residues of Nazism still at large in the French countryside.
تاریخ نخستین خوانش روز بیست و ششم ماه آوریل سال 2014میلادی
عنوان: سگهای سیاه؛ نویسنده ایان مکایوان (ایان راسل مک یوون)؛ مترجم امیرحسین مهدیزاده؛ تهران، نشر نی، 1390؛ شابک 9789641851875؛ در 176ص؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان بریتانیایی - سده 20م
عنوان: سگهای سیاه؛ نویسنده ایان مکایوان (ایان راسل مک یوون)؛ مترجم مصطفی مفیدی؛ تهران، نیلوفر، 1395؛ شابک 9789644483714؛ در 220ص؛
نویسنده بینش خوبی دارند؛ «سگهای سیاه» در دایره هایی تودرتو ساخته میشود: عشق، شور، و سرمستی معنوی، کشف حقیقت شخصی، و یافتن توضیح برای کائناتی که «به سرنوشت پرولتاریا اهمیتی نمیدهد»، عقل و توضیح مادی جهان، سیاست و جزم اندیشی، و فروپاشی «هر آنچه سخت و استوار است»، از دیوار بلند «برلین» تا دیوارهای بلندی که شرق و غرب روح آدمیان را به دو نیم، و نیمه های پیدا شده را، در پس ِ پشت ویرانه های خویش گم میکند؛ «سگهای سیاه» نه تنها در زمینه همآمیزی درونمایههای ناظر بر مفاهیم، و جهانهای گوناگون و متضاد، استادانه است، که با درهم آمیزی و ترکیب شکلهای مدرن برای روایت رمان، از گوناگونی برای نگارش قصه، تا خودگویه های عاطفی، نیز ساختاری نازک اندیشانه و هنرمندانه دارد؛ رمانی که جا و مجال خوانش چند باره را دارد
نقل از متن: (حالا دیگر میدانست کجای داستان است، همچنانکه میدانست بعدش چه پیش میآمد؛ ولی در هیجان روانی کوتاهی که با بیداری اش همراه بود، متوجه شدم، د��رم آماده میشوم، در برابر اعلان اجتناب ناپذیر «روز بعد»، مقاومت کنم؛ میخواستم او را به جای دیگری هدایت کنم؛ چندین بار این «روز بعد» را، مرور کرده ایم، نُقل زبان خانواده بود، قصه ای که با تکرار، صیقل خورده، و به قدری سر زبان بود، که دیگر نیازی به یادآوری نداشت، مثل دعایی که از حفظ بخوانند؛ حکایتش را سالها پیش شنیده بودم، همانوقت که در «لهستان»، با «جنی» آشنا شدم؛ آن را به حد کافی از «برنارد» شنیده بودم، که تازه به معنی دقیق کلمه هم، شاهد ماجرا نبوده، در کریسمس، و دیگر جمعهای خانوادگی، موضوع مکرر بازگو شده بود، تا جاییکه به «جون» مربوط میشد، این ماجرا باید در کانون زندگینامه اش قرار میگرفت، همچنان که در روایت خود او از زندگی اش، چنین بود ــ لحظه تعیین کننده، تجربه ی نقطه ی چرخش، حقیقت آشکار شده ای که در پرتو آن، همه ی نتایج پیشین میبایست مورد بازاندیشی قرار میگرفت؛ داستانی بود که دقت تاریخی آن، از مقصودی که برآورده میکرد، اهمیت کمتری داشت؛ اسطوره بود، چونکه بنا بود مستند هم باشد، باز نیرومندتر میشد؛ «جون» خود را متقاعد کرده بود، که «روز بعد»، همه چیز را توضیح خواهد داد ــ اینکه چرا حزب را ترک کرده بود، چرا او و «برنارد» دچار یک ناهماهنگی عمرانه شدند، چرا در عقلگرایی اش، در ماده گرایی اش تجدید نظر کرد، چطور شد که چنین زندگی کرد که کرد، کجا به سر برد، چه اندیشید.)؛ پایان نقل
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 06/02/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی
Black Dogs is a 1992 novel by the British author Ian McEwan.
It concerns the aftermath of the Nazi era in Europe, and how the fall of the Berlin Wall in the late 1980's affected those who once saw Communism as a way forward for society.
The main characters travel to France, where they encounter disturbing residues of Nazism still at large in the French countryside.
تاریخ نخستین خوانش روز بیست و ششم ماه آوریل سال 2014میلادی
عنوان: سگهای سیاه؛ نویسنده ایان مکایوان (ایان راسل مک یوون)؛ مترجم امیرحسین مهدیزاده؛ تهران، نشر نی، 1390؛ شابک 9789641851875؛ در 176ص؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان بریتانیایی - سده 20م
عنوان: سگهای سیاه؛ نویسنده ایان مکایوان (ایان راسل مک یوون)؛ مترجم مصطفی مفیدی؛ تهران، نیلوفر، 1395؛ شابک 9789644483714؛ در 220ص؛
نویسنده بینش خوبی دارند؛ «سگهای سیاه» در دایره هایی تودرتو ساخته میشود: عشق، شور، و سرمستی معنوی، کشف حقیقت شخصی، و یافتن توضیح برای کائناتی که «به سرنوشت پرولتاریا اهمیتی نمیدهد»، عقل و توضیح مادی جهان، سیاست و جزم اندیشی، و فروپاشی «هر آنچه سخت و استوار است»، از دیوار بلند «برلین» تا دیوارهای بلندی که شرق و غرب روح آدمیان را به دو نیم، و نیمه های پیدا شده را، در پس ِ پشت ویرانه های خویش گم میکند؛ «سگهای سیاه» نه تنها در زمینه همآمیزی درونمایههای ناظر بر مفاهیم، و جهانهای گوناگون و متضاد، استادانه است، که با درهم آمیزی و ترکیب شکلهای مدرن برای روایت رمان، از گوناگونی برای نگارش قصه، تا خودگویه های عاطفی، نیز ساختاری نازک اندیشانه و هنرمندانه دارد؛ رمانی که جا و مجال خوانش چند باره را دارد
نقل از متن: (حالا دیگر میدانست کجای داستان است، همچنانکه میدانست بعدش چه پیش میآمد؛ ولی در هیجان روانی کوتاهی که با بیداری اش همراه بود، متوجه شدم، د��رم آماده میشوم، در برابر اعلان اجتناب ناپذیر «روز بعد»، مقاومت کنم؛ میخواستم او را به جای دیگری هدایت کنم؛ چندین بار این «روز بعد» را، مرور کرده ایم، نُقل زبان خانواده بود، قصه ای که با تکرار، صیقل خورده، و به قدری سر زبان بود، که دیگر نیازی به یادآوری نداشت، مثل دعایی که از حفظ بخوانند؛ حکایتش را سالها پیش شنیده بودم، همانوقت که در «لهستان»، با «جنی» آشنا شدم؛ آن را به حد کافی از «برنارد» شنیده بودم، که تازه به معنی دقیق کلمه هم، شاهد ماجرا نبوده، در کریسمس، و دیگر جمعهای خانوادگی، موضوع مکرر بازگو شده بود، تا جاییکه به «جون» مربوط میشد، این ماجرا باید در کانون زندگینامه اش قرار میگرفت، همچنان که در روایت خود او از زندگی اش، چنین بود ــ لحظه تعیین کننده، تجربه ی نقطه ی چرخش، حقیقت آشکار شده ای که در پرتو آن، همه ی نتایج پیشین میبایست مورد بازاندیشی قرار میگرفت؛ داستانی بود که دقت تاریخی آن، از مقصودی که برآورده میکرد، اهمیت کمتری داشت؛ اسطوره بود، چونکه بنا بود مستند هم باشد، باز نیرومندتر میشد؛ «جون» خود را متقاعد کرده بود، که «روز بعد»، همه چیز را توضیح خواهد داد ــ اینکه چرا حزب را ترک کرده بود، چرا او و «برنارد» دچار یک ناهماهنگی عمرانه شدند، چرا در عقلگرایی اش، در ماده گرایی اش تجدید نظر کرد، چطور شد که چنین زندگی کرد که کرد، کجا به سر برد، چه اندیشید.)؛ پایان نقل
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 06/02/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی
February 17, 2018
Very disappointing, and yet not a dreadful book either (I've read five other McEwan's, all 4* or 5*).
Remembering
The narrator is preparing the memoirs of his dying mother-in-law. He particularly wants details of a terrifying encounter with black dogs more than 40 years ago that changed the direction of her life, and therefore that of her husband and children.
Jeremy describes his own childhood, contrasting it with that of his wife, and tells of trips to the care home to talk to his mother-in-law, recounting snippets of her life. As the book progressed, I became increasingly annoyed about this big secret and heavy-handed metaphor that would, presumably, be revealed at the end, thinking it would probably be an anticlimax. And it was.
Truth
Other than that, the main theme is honesty - to oneself and to others. June and Bernard (Jeremy's parents-in-law) joined the Communist party at the end of the war. For me, the most effective passages were those that looked at how people twist or ignore the truth to maintain their faith in something, and the tensions between scientific rationalism and more instinctive spiritual aspects. McEwan points out that "Laboratory work teaches you better than anything how easy it is to bend a result to fit a theory", acknowledging that "rationalism is blind faith". Jean and Bernard were very different, except "their capacity, their appetite, for belief never diminished", though not necessarily in the same things.
I was also stunned and delighted at the idea of "The Socialist Cycling Club of Amersham". It's a very hilly area with a notable shortage of socialists!
Repeating Down the Generations
Perhaps related to that, Jeremy is very conscious of one generation repeating the faults of a previous one, though he sometimes uses that as a convenient excuse. For example, almost losing touch with a young relative because "I could not bear to undergo another parting from X. The thought that I was inflicting on her the very loss I had suffered myself intensified my loneliness".
The elephant in the room is the titular black dog!
Depression is never really addressed, which is odd, given the title: the book even mentions that "the black dog" was how Churchill personified his depressive episodes.
Seductive Writing
There are snippets where McEwan's perceptive writing shines though; it's the book as a whole that doesn't work for me. To end with the good writing:
* "The companionable love-making that is the privilege and compromise of married life."
* A terminally ill person was "buried in a sleep that had itself been smothered in an illness" so on waking, "she had to reconstruct her whole existence, who and where she was."
* The liturgy at a funeral was "a succession of brilliant phrases, book titles, dying cadences that breathed life, pure alertness, along the spine".
* An unhappy family entering a restaurant was "a luminous envelope of familial intensity".
Remembering
The narrator is preparing the memoirs of his dying mother-in-law. He particularly wants details of a terrifying encounter with black dogs more than 40 years ago that changed the direction of her life, and therefore that of her husband and children.
Jeremy describes his own childhood, contrasting it with that of his wife, and tells of trips to the care home to talk to his mother-in-law, recounting snippets of her life. As the book progressed, I became increasingly annoyed about this big secret and heavy-handed metaphor that would, presumably, be revealed at the end, thinking it would probably be an anticlimax. And it was.
Truth
Other than that, the main theme is honesty - to oneself and to others. June and Bernard (Jeremy's parents-in-law) joined the Communist party at the end of the war. For me, the most effective passages were those that looked at how people twist or ignore the truth to maintain their faith in something, and the tensions between scientific rationalism and more instinctive spiritual aspects. McEwan points out that "Laboratory work teaches you better than anything how easy it is to bend a result to fit a theory", acknowledging that "rationalism is blind faith". Jean and Bernard were very different, except "their capacity, their appetite, for belief never diminished", though not necessarily in the same things.
I was also stunned and delighted at the idea of "The Socialist Cycling Club of Amersham". It's a very hilly area with a notable shortage of socialists!
Repeating Down the Generations
Perhaps related to that, Jeremy is very conscious of one generation repeating the faults of a previous one, though he sometimes uses that as a convenient excuse. For example, almost losing touch with a young relative because "I could not bear to undergo another parting from X. The thought that I was inflicting on her the very loss I had suffered myself intensified my loneliness".
The elephant in the room is the titular black dog!
Depression is never really addressed, which is odd, given the title: the book even mentions that "the black dog" was how Churchill personified his depressive episodes.
Seductive Writing
There are snippets where McEwan's perceptive writing shines though; it's the book as a whole that doesn't work for me. To end with the good writing:
* "The companionable love-making that is the privilege and compromise of married life."
* A terminally ill person was "buried in a sleep that had itself been smothered in an illness" so on waking, "she had to reconstruct her whole existence, who and where she was."
* The liturgy at a funeral was "a succession of brilliant phrases, book titles, dying cadences that breathed life, pure alertness, along the spine".
* An unhappy family entering a restaurant was "a luminous envelope of familial intensity".
April 5, 2019
I do not recommend this novel. It is trite, long and boring! 0 of 10 stars.
September 1, 2021
It is so good to get back to Ian McEwan. I haven’t read one of his books in more than a year and this one made me want to start a new binge.
As always, I revere his narrative movement, but this book, a story about a writer trying to come to terms with the existence of the ethereal versus a reality that is wholly tangible, has an altogether different kind of movement from his other books, and it creates sometimes painful dramatic tension.
In this novel you see the normal movement he regularly creates by having a person move in space, but here there is also an almost palpable ephemeral vibration. It comes in memories, still places (like the kitchen in the quote), most interestingly in a trip to a concentration camp; in this case, the dead place is alive, but as a Jew I experienced it entirely differently than the protagonist did—McEwan’s writing allows this. It comes in the movement of history, in the visceral experience of mass grief, and, central to this book, to the movement of the heart versus its shadow: pure evil. It’s a terrific story that is both cerebral and heart-pumping.
And I particularly liked the ending, which could not be more applicable to today, although the book is copyrighted 1992. I don't think it is a spoiler to end with its message, cleverly delivered by someone other than the searching protagonist, that without each of us doing the personal work to live from our hearts, it doesn't much matter what goes on politically. If we don't do the work, we will be hopelessly caught in darkness.
As always, I revere his narrative movement, but this book, a story about a writer trying to come to terms with the existence of the ethereal versus a reality that is wholly tangible, has an altogether different kind of movement from his other books, and it creates sometimes painful dramatic tension.
With my hand stretched out in front of my face, I walked across the hall. Everywhere was a sweet smell I associated with June [his dead mother-in-law]. It came from the lavender soap she had bought in bulk. We were not even halfway through her supply. I groped my way across the living room and opened the door to the kitchen. The smell here was of metal and, faintly, butane gas. The fuse box and switch were in a cupboard on the wall on the far side of the room. Even in this darkness it showed as a blacker patch ahead of me. As I edged around the kitchen table, the sensation that I was being watched intensified. The surface of my skin had become an organ of perception, sensitized to darkness and to every molecule of air. My bare arms were registering a threat. Something was up; the kitchen did not feel the same. (92)
In this novel you see the normal movement he regularly creates by having a person move in space, but here there is also an almost palpable ephemeral vibration. It comes in memories, still places (like the kitchen in the quote), most interestingly in a trip to a concentration camp; in this case, the dead place is alive, but as a Jew I experienced it entirely differently than the protagonist did—McEwan’s writing allows this. It comes in the movement of history, in the visceral experience of mass grief, and, central to this book, to the movement of the heart versus its shadow: pure evil. It’s a terrific story that is both cerebral and heart-pumping.
And I particularly liked the ending, which could not be more applicable to today, although the book is copyrighted 1992. I don't think it is a spoiler to end with its message, cleverly delivered by someone other than the searching protagonist, that without each of us doing the personal work to live from our hearts, it doesn't much matter what goes on politically. If we don't do the work, we will be hopelessly caught in darkness.
April 19, 2019
My favorite Ian McEwan novel. It reads like memoir, has that kind of immediacy. Merits multiple re-readings.
October 31, 2023
In response to social utopia - communism - this superb novel develops through the journey and inner transformation of June - facing absolute evil, black dogs - quoting Gandhi:
"Be the change you want to see in the world."
"Be the change you want to see in the world."
February 13, 2018
Black Dogs was not as bad as I had expected, based on the reviews, but it does have a lot of problems. The novel tackles diverse themes, which intersect in interesting ways, though they arise in ad hoc rather than deliberate ways, and their treatment is not sufficiently meaningful. The encounter at the heart of Black Dogs is compelling, and raises some interesting ideas about human nature, and the tension between idealism and the reality of the darker sides of humanity. But the explanation is left somewhat vague, and the encounter is awarded implications in the characters’ lives that are too significant and far-reaching. McEwan attempts to create a mystery around the event, which, while helping to drive the narrative, falls flat in the reveal.
McEwan has a tendency to both make too much of too little, and to bite off more than he can chew. Black Dogs could have worked better as either a short story about the central incident itself, or a longer exploration of the many ideas it attempts to tackle (though I’m not sure McEwan could have written the latter novel). Instead, he attacks some untenable middle ground. He seems to take a single kernel of a good idea, and fill in a story around it, adding characters and descriptions of histories and motivations, but all of it feels like mere scaffolding for the central event. The story itself and the characters lack a certain complexity and reality. The events of the novel do not arise naturally from the characters, but are driven by contrivance towards the inevitable “event”, which is something imposed externally. McEwan intends for his characters to work through the implications of what has occurred, and for this discourse to make up the bulk of the novel. However the characters he has constructed are themselves not compelling. Despite having been given an abundance of personal history, they still feel flat and generalised. Their dialogue is shallow, and never properly explores the heart of the matter. Much of what is unearthed in Black Dogs remains not only unresolved, but in fact unexplored.
McEwan has a tendency to both make too much of too little, and to bite off more than he can chew. Black Dogs could have worked better as either a short story about the central incident itself, or a longer exploration of the many ideas it attempts to tackle (though I’m not sure McEwan could have written the latter novel). Instead, he attacks some untenable middle ground. He seems to take a single kernel of a good idea, and fill in a story around it, adding characters and descriptions of histories and motivations, but all of it feels like mere scaffolding for the central event. The story itself and the characters lack a certain complexity and reality. The events of the novel do not arise naturally from the characters, but are driven by contrivance towards the inevitable “event”, which is something imposed externally. McEwan intends for his characters to work through the implications of what has occurred, and for this discourse to make up the bulk of the novel. However the characters he has constructed are themselves not compelling. Despite having been given an abundance of personal history, they still feel flat and generalised. Their dialogue is shallow, and never properly explores the heart of the matter. Much of what is unearthed in Black Dogs remains not only unresolved, but in fact unexplored.
November 18, 2019
Ο Ίαν ΜακΓιούαν έχει μια εξαιρετική αντίληψη,
μια πολυδιάστατη μαγεμένη εικόνα για την ανθρώπινη αδυναμία.
Μπορεί με απλό και λιτό λόγο να μεταφέρει
στο έργο του προσωπικές και εθνικές τραγωδίες
που έπληξαν και θα πλήττουν
πάντα το ανθρώπινο είδος.
Το λογοτεχνικό του ύφος είναι κοφτερό
και η παλέτα που χρωματίζει τους καθρέφτες των αισθημάτων απογυμνώνει είδωλα,
μετράει ατομικές ταυτότητες σε κάθε άτομο χωριστά και παίρνει διάφορες αποχρώσεις καθώς αντικατοπτρίζει με φως και με σκοτάδι όλες τις συνειδησιακές και νοητικές προσλαμβάνουσες.
Οι χαρακτήρες που χτίζει είναι σαν φλόγες, ζεσταίνουν και παραμένουν ως φωνές αναλλοίωτες,
σαν συνθήματα ανεξίτηλα και διαχρονικά,
μα στην εγγύτητα του αγγίγματος δημιουργούν εγκαύματα συλλογικού ασυνείδητου ή ψυχολογικού συνειδητού.
Τα «Μαύρα Σκυλιά» τα συναντάμε στην Ευρώπη μετά το τέλος του Β´ΠΠ με κυριότερο σταθμό στην Γαλλία και εκτείνονται ως τα τέλη της δεκαετίας του ‘80.
Το βιβλίο πραγματεύεται την ιστορία του Τζέρεμυ, ο οποίος καταγράφει, σκέφτεται, αισθάνεται, μαθαίνει να υπάρχει και να διαλογίζεται αυστηρά, μέσα απο τις ζωές των άλλων.
Σαν ερευνητής βιοψυχολογίας και συγγραφέας βιογραφιών ασχολείται κυρίως με τη ζωή, τα βιώματα, τα συναισθήματα, τις πεποιθήσεις, τις εμπειρίες και τα σωστά λάθη των γονιών της συζύγου του.
Δυο άνθρωποι που θα μπορούσαν να ειναι δικοί του γονείς, του επιτρέπουν ακούσια να προσκολληθεί
πάνω τους.
Ο Τζέρεμι έχοντας ως απωθημένο τον χαμό των δικών του γονιών σε μικρή ηλικία, προσπαθεί να καλυφθεί μέσα απο τις συγγενικές αγάπες και απάτες των άλλων.
Το ηλικιωμένο ζευγάρι είναι εξ αρχής για τον ίδιο οι δυο αντίθετες πλευρές του ίδιου νομίσματος.
Η μητέρα είναι μια ρομαντική ύπαρξη που άργησε αλλά τελικά πίστεψε στις δυνάμεις του μυστικισμού.
Η ζωή για εκείνη είναι ένα ταξίδι μέσα απο τον προσωπικό χώρο του ανακλαστικού διαλογισμού και της ατομικής συνειδητοποίησης.
Ο σύζυγος της, σκληρός ορθολογιστής,
πολιτεύομενος αριστερός, αντιρρησίας, είναι κυρίως ένας στοχαστής.
Ένας εντεταλμένος σκεπτικιστής που θεωρεί πως θα ρυθμίσει τον κόσμο μόνο με την σωστή εφαρμογή των κατάλληλων ιδεών.
Ένα ζευγάρι με αντίθετες πεποιθήσεις και αντιλήψεις που δεν συμβιβάζονται ποτέ σε κάποιο περιορισμό απόψεων,
χάνοντας στην ουσία μια ζωή γεμάτη μεγάλη και τρυφερή αγάπη, ζώντας σε ξεχωριστές και παράλληλες υπάρξεις.
Τα μαύρα σκυλιά που αποτελούν το κεντρικό αλληγορικό, συμβολικό και ουσιαστικό χαρακτηριστικό του μυθιστορήματος, είναι περισσότερο ένα κακό στοιχείο, ένα αρνητικό γεγονός, μια μοχθηρή πράξη
που εξελίσσεται σε ανήκεστος βλάβη της ανθρωπότητας με χειριστές και επιδιορθωτές τους ίδιους μας
τους εαυτούς.
Είτε πρόκειται για συμβολικά χαρακτηριστική ανεπάρκεια του ανθρώπου να διαχειριστεί τις μεγάλες θλίψεις που τον πνίγουν και γίνονται απώλειες ζωτικών φαινομένων,
είτε για μια ευρύτερη ιστορικά μυθολογική και αποτρόπαια, αθεράπευτη αρρώστια,
που οδηγεί την ανθρωπότητα σε τραγωδίες εκδηλωμένες ως διαταραχές προσωπικών καταθλιπτικών εμμονών και καθολικών πολιτιστικών καταστροφών.
Καλή ανάγνωση.
Πολλούς ασπασμούς.
μια πολυδιάστατη μαγεμένη εικόνα για την ανθρώπινη αδυναμία.
Μπορεί με απλό και λιτό λόγο να μεταφέρει
στο έργο του προσωπικές και εθνικές τραγωδίες
που έπληξαν και θα πλήττουν
πάντα το ανθρώπινο είδος.
Το λογοτεχνικό του ύφος είναι κοφτερό
και η παλέτα που χρωματίζει τους καθρέφτες των αισθημάτων απογυμνώνει είδωλα,
μετράει ατομικές ταυτότητες σε κάθε άτομο χωριστά και παίρνει διάφορες αποχρώσεις καθώς αντικατοπτρίζει με φως και με σκοτάδι όλες τις συνειδησιακές και νοητικές προσλαμβάνουσες.
Οι χαρακτήρες που χτίζει είναι σαν φλόγες, ζεσταίνουν και παραμένουν ως φωνές αναλλοίωτες,
σαν συνθήματα ανεξίτηλα και διαχρονικά,
μα στην εγγύτητα του αγγίγματος δημιουργούν εγκαύματα συλλογικού ασυνείδητου ή ψυχολογικού συνειδητού.
Τα «Μαύρα Σκυλιά» τα συναντάμε στην Ευρώπη μετά το τέλος του Β´ΠΠ με κυριότερο σταθμό στην Γαλλία και εκτείνονται ως τα τέλη της δεκαετίας του ‘80.
Το βιβλίο πραγματεύεται την ιστορία του Τζέρεμυ, ο οποίος καταγράφει, σκέφτεται, αισθάνεται, μαθαίνει να υπάρχει και να διαλογίζεται αυστηρά, μέσα απο τις ζωές των άλλων.
Σαν ερευνητής βιοψυχολογίας και συγγραφέας βιογραφιών ασχολείται κυρίως με τη ζωή, τα βιώματα, τα συναισθήματα, τις πεποιθήσεις, τις εμπειρίες και τα σωστά λάθη των γονιών της συζύγου του.
Δυο άνθρωποι που θα μπορούσαν να ειναι δικοί του γονείς, του επιτρέπουν ακούσια να προσκολληθεί
πάνω τους.
Ο Τζέρεμι έχοντας ως απωθημένο τον χαμό των δικών του γονιών σε μικρή ηλικία, προσπαθεί να καλυφθεί μέσα απο τις συγγενικές αγάπες και απάτες των άλλων.
Το ηλικιωμένο ζευγάρι είναι εξ αρχής για τον ίδιο οι δυο αντίθετες πλευρές του ίδιου νομίσματος.
Η μητέρα είναι μια ρομαντική ύπαρξη που άργησε αλλά τελικά πίστεψε στις δυνάμεις του μυστικισμού.
Η ζωή για εκείνη είναι ένα ταξίδι μέσα απο τον προσωπικό χώρο του ανακλαστικού διαλογισμού και της ατομικής συνειδητοποίησης.
Ο σύζυγος της, σκληρός ορθολογιστής,
πολιτεύομενος αριστερός, αντιρρησίας, είναι κυρίως ένας στοχαστής.
Ένας εντεταλμένος σκεπτικιστής που θεωρεί πως θα ρυθμίσει τον κόσμο μόνο με την σωστή εφαρμογή των κατάλληλων ιδεών.
Ένα ζευγάρι με αντίθετες πεποιθήσεις και αντιλήψεις που δεν συμβιβάζονται ποτέ σε κάποιο περιορισμό απόψεων,
χάνοντας στην ουσία μια ζωή γεμάτη μεγάλη και τρυφερή αγάπη, ζώντας σε ξεχωριστές και παράλληλες υπάρξεις.
Τα μαύρα σκυλιά που αποτελούν το κεντρικό αλληγορικό, συμβολικό και ουσιαστικό χαρακτηριστικό του μυθιστορήματος, είναι περισσότερο ένα κακό στοιχείο, ένα αρνητικό γεγονός, μια μοχθηρή πράξη
που εξελίσσεται σε ανήκεστος βλάβη της ανθρωπότητας με χειριστές και επιδιορθωτές τους ίδιους μας
τους εαυτούς.
Είτε πρόκειται για συμβολικά χαρακτηριστική ανεπάρκεια του ανθρώπου να διαχειριστεί τις μεγάλες θλίψεις που τον πνίγουν και γίνονται απώλειες ζωτικών φαινομένων,
είτε για μια ευρύτερη ιστορικά μυθολογική και αποτρόπαια, αθεράπευτη αρρώστια,
που οδηγεί την ανθρωπότητα σε τραγωδίες εκδηλωμένες ως διαταραχές προσωπικών καταθλιπτικών εμμονών και καθολικών πολιτιστικών καταστροφών.
Καλή ανάγνωση.
Πολλούς ασπασμούς.
March 18, 2023
I really enjoyed the writing in the last section of this novel, the account of Bernard and June’s travels around postwar France and June’s encounter with the black dogs. In the earlier sections I found all the references to the life changing event distracting, just tell the story. I can see what Mcewan was trying to do but I found the characters he used (upper middle class types) just frustrating. Even the section in Berlin when the wall was coming down he left me wanting more. A short novel, with some really good bits.
March 31, 2021
"Bernhard şimdiki zamanda var olmayı vurdumduymazlık olarak görüyor. Ama bu saçmalık."
40'lı yıllarda Bernhard ve June çok mutlu ideal bir çifttirler. Birbirlerinin ruh eşi olduğunu düşünürler idealleri vardır, ta ki bir ana kadar. Sadece bir an iki insanı farklı yollara savurabilir, başka kapılar açılabilir önlerine...
40'lı yıllarda Bernhard ve June çok mutlu ideal bir çifttirler. Birbirlerinin ruh eşi olduğunu düşünürler idealleri vardır, ta ki bir ana kadar. Sadece bir an iki insanı farklı yollara savurabilir, başka kapılar açılabilir önlerine...
July 21, 2016
A beautifully written novella but hollow in the centre, and leaving me dissatisfied at the end. It essentially revolves around a biography that the “author” Jeremy wants to write about his in-laws, June and Bernard. (To understand why they are so important to Jeremy, you need to read the introduction which is actually part of the novella itself and not, as I first thought, an autobiographical note on the real author’s life. Nice one, Ian).
June and Bernard get married just after WW2 but on their honeymoon in France, June has a traumatic experience with two black dogs. This event becomes a defining moment in their lives that marks a gradual separation, with June regarding it in mystical and religious terms, while Bernard remained a rationalist. June retreated to France a few years after the attack, to write and paint and live a hermit’s life, while Bernard remained in London and became something of a media personality.
In an effort to understand what happened, Jeremy followed both of their lives closely, and returns to the black dog scene four times: in conversations with June and with Bernard, again on his own and in a final chapter where more details of the event are revealed.
What I found unsatisfactory was this: why would the attack be such a defining moment and lead to a separation for over 40 years, even though June and Bernard remained in love? It isn’t explored, and we learn little about the rest of their lives, except for two current episodes: Jeremy visits June in her nursing home shortly before her death, and Jeremy accompanies Bernard to Europe at the time the Berlin Wall is coming down. That’s about it.
If it had been a real autobiography then you could understand the gap, and such is the power of McEwan’s writing that I tended to forget that it wasn’t. But the attack is so obviously an allegory about good and evil that when the details are finally revealed, it is – well not quite an anticlimax, because it is horrible – but, there’s nothing to follow:
“June told me that throughout her life she sometimes used to see them ... running down the path into the Gorge of the Vis, the bigger one trailing blood on the white stones ... fading as they move into the foothills of the mountains from where they will return to haunt us, somewhere in Europe, in another time.”
November 18, 2022
Ian McEwan gelingt ein furioser Start in den Roman. Die Geschichte handelt von einem Waisen, der bereits in der Jugend die Eltern seiner stark pubertierenden Freunde "übernimmt" und sich von diesen als neues Objekt der Fürsorge ordentlich bemuttern läßt. Vor dem Hintergrund historischer Ereignisse wie beispielsweise der Fall der Berliner Mauer erzählt der mittlerweile erwachsene verwaiste Ich-Erzählter größtenteils die Geschichte seiner verfeindeten, von seiner Frau übernommenen Schwiegereltern, sowohl in der Gegenwart als auch vom Hörensagen aus der Vergangenheit.
Die Geschichte klingt hervorragend, ist aber dennoch nur so mittelmäßig gut, dass ich mich nicht gewundert habe, diesen Roman von McEwan nicht zu kennen. Da ich speziell von diesem Autor mehr gewöhnt bin, war ich etwas enttäuscht. Sie hat eigentlich alles: Gute Ausgangssituation, ein Drama in der Vergangenheit, gute Sprache, einen brillianten Analytiker menschlicher Gefühle... und kommt dennoch nicht in Schwung. Schon von der ersten Seite an wird eine Szene zwischen den frisch verlobten Schwiegereltern beschworen, die bis zum Ende nicht erzählt wird und die den eigentlichen Wendepunkt im Leben des Paares darstellen soll. Sowas hasse ich ohnehin - die permanente Ankündigung eines wichtigen Ereignisses, das dann am Ende sowieso nicht den in die Höhe geschraubten Erwartungen entspricht. Auch die Story wirkt durch die vielen Schauplätze und Rückblenden etwas verfahren. Mir hat der Rote Faden gefehlt. Ach ja und die Aussage - naja worauf der Autor wirklich hinauswill, konnte ich nicht ganz nachvollziehen.
Fazit: Ganz gut aber muss man nicht lesen.
Die Geschichte klingt hervorragend, ist aber dennoch nur so mittelmäßig gut, dass ich mich nicht gewundert habe, diesen Roman von McEwan nicht zu kennen. Da ich speziell von diesem Autor mehr gewöhnt bin, war ich etwas enttäuscht. Sie hat eigentlich alles: Gute Ausgangssituation, ein Drama in der Vergangenheit, gute Sprache, einen brillianten Analytiker menschlicher Gefühle... und kommt dennoch nicht in Schwung. Schon von der ersten Seite an wird eine Szene zwischen den frisch verlobten Schwiegereltern beschworen, die bis zum Ende nicht erzählt wird und die den eigentlichen Wendepunkt im Leben des Paares darstellen soll. Sowas hasse ich ohnehin - die permanente Ankündigung eines wichtigen Ereignisses, das dann am Ende sowieso nicht den in die Höhe geschraubten Erwartungen entspricht. Auch die Story wirkt durch die vielen Schauplätze und Rückblenden etwas verfahren. Mir hat der Rote Faden gefehlt. Ach ja und die Aussage - naja worauf der Autor wirklich hinauswill, konnte ich nicht ganz nachvollziehen.
Fazit: Ganz gut aber muss man nicht lesen.
July 14, 2007
I want to love Ian McEwan based on Zadie Smith’s (hilarious) interview with him in the Believer book of Writers on Writing. Maybe Black Dogs wasn’t the place to start. It was interesting to see his life work paralleled against Roth’s in the New York Review of Books (Al Alvarez, July 19 2007), suggesting that McEwan, like Roth, came of age as a writer at a moment when sexuality had to be busted out and that he, like Roth, was in the vanguard of this. I was expecting something more original in his style (like Roth’s), but came away with an impression of someone who got embraced by the lit establishment at a particular moment in time because of the above and also because his understated simple prose fit in with the aesthetics of the Ford-Carver-Tobias Wolfe school (of which I am a fan). Black Dogs felt flat and carpentered to me, though. I was also drawn to it because of it treats mystical material (the black dogs as a sort-of-literal metaphor for evil), and because the book explicitly juxtaposes character against historical/political context (the fall of the Berlin wall) in keeping with the calls for relevant social realism by Tom Wolfe and Franzen and others, which I agree with. In the end the book felt to me like a lot of building blocks stacked near each other but never adding up to a beautiful house.
May 11, 2023
Ian McEwan’dan çok sayıda kitap okudum, hepsinin ortak yönünün, teması insana dair olan erdem, mutluluk, ahlak vb kavramlarda kendi zihninde beraklaştıramadığı konuları okuyucularına kurgulayarak sunmak olarak tanımlayabilirim. Konusunu anlatmıyacağım, arka kapak tanıtım yazısında güzel özetlenmiş.
Mantıklı düşünce ile manevi kavrayışın ayrı alanlar olduklarını, her şeye inanmanın ve hiç seçim yapmamanın hiçbir şeye inanmamakla hemen hemen aynı olduğunu vurguluyan yazar çağımızda uygarlığımızın çok aşırı inançla mı yoksa çok kıt inançla mı lanetlendiğini okura soruyor.
Birinci tekil şahıs ağzından anlatan anlatıcı (yazar?), eşinin anne ve babasının gençken 2. Dünya Savaşı öncesinde birlikte komünist olarak hayata başladıklarını, sonra kendi yollarına gittiklerini, birinin yaşamı boyunca tanrıyanımazlığıyla biliminin kesinliğine bağlı kalmış olduğunu diğerinin ise simgesel anlamı olan iki siyah köpekle karşılaşması sonucunda Tanrı'ya dönmüş olduğunu hikayenin omurgası olarak almış.
McEwan romanına Berlin Duvarının yıkılması, Polonya’daki Yahudi soykırımı, 2. Dünya Savaşını ve Fransız direnişçilerini aralara yedirerek esas olarak Avrupa’nın geleceğini sorguluyor. Kurgusu güzel, yazarın dili diğer kitaplarında olduğu gibi çok akıcı, tanımlamalar etkileyici, hikaye sürükleyici. Ben bu yazarı keyifle okuyorum.
Mantıklı düşünce ile manevi kavrayışın ayrı alanlar olduklarını, her şeye inanmanın ve hiç seçim yapmamanın hiçbir şeye inanmamakla hemen hemen aynı olduğunu vurguluyan yazar çağımızda uygarlığımızın çok aşırı inançla mı yoksa çok kıt inançla mı lanetlendiğini okura soruyor.
Birinci tekil şahıs ağzından anlatan anlatıcı (yazar?), eşinin anne ve babasının gençken 2. Dünya Savaşı öncesinde birlikte komünist olarak hayata başladıklarını, sonra kendi yollarına gittiklerini, birinin yaşamı boyunca tanrıyanımazlığıyla biliminin kesinliğine bağlı kalmış olduğunu diğerinin ise simgesel anlamı olan iki siyah köpekle karşılaşması sonucunda Tanrı'ya dönmüş olduğunu hikayenin omurgası olarak almış.
McEwan romanına Berlin Duvarının yıkılması, Polonya’daki Yahudi soykırımı, 2. Dünya Savaşını ve Fransız direnişçilerini aralara yedirerek esas olarak Avrupa’nın geleceğini sorguluyor. Kurgusu güzel, yazarın dili diğer kitaplarında olduğu gibi çok akıcı, tanımlamalar etkileyici, hikaye sürükleyici. Ben bu yazarı keyifle okuyorum.
September 29, 2021
The writing was good and in a way I enjoyed his writing style the most in this book. However I got a slight feeling I'd wanted more from this. It didn't seem as Ian McEwab fleshed out the story as well as he could and its a shame because I think it could have been a better book. One of the only books by his I've truly loved and think about often is Nutshell. Sadly that weird and obscure story telling he had in that dosent seem to be something he wanted/wants to explore more. I had hoped from the title that this book would be more leaning similar obscure vibes but sadly not.
February 25, 2022
Nu-i cel mai bun roman al său, de acord, cu toate astea nu m-a dezamăgit - chiar și cînd nu-i pe culmi e mereu o plăcere să-l citesc pe McEwan.
January 29, 2016
I quite liked this -- like it much more, in fact, than the reviews of my GR friends led me to expect I would. It is richly packed with ideas and character into what is almost only a novella in length, and I found the ending to be particularly strong and well prepared by what had gone before. The book is not flawless, there are technical weaknesses early on -- that is, the craftsmanship sometimes shows -- and there are passages where the 'debate' becomes a bit ham-handed..., but the fundamental insight into the nature of evil and its implications is haunting and effecively conveyed. This is a very good book, and while it is easy to dismiss McEwan as Lit-lite (and there may be some truth in that), the few hours it takes to read this story were not wasted.
July 12, 2018
I read this book in its entirety, breathlessly, while on a 10 hour flight to US, the first I ever took. From the preface I couldn't bear to put it down.
This beginning of the book (the preface) is so convincing, so authentic, that it really seems like the author is speaking himself and devoid of any artifice. Only after a while you notice that it's not the author, but the main character who does the speaking. Still, this hooks you in and it makes everything so relatable that it's hard not to become engrossed in the story.
For me, it was a fascinating account of some of Europe's most turbulent moments, recounted from the viewpoint of the common man, which always makes for valuable insight. I also loved how the main character is trying to make sense of his in-laws and their relationship. This pushes you to agree more with one of them and then more with the other one, as the story's tides kick in.
In the end, everything clears up like a fog, making you see more clearly what you perhaps intuited all along, about who was right and who was aloof. This clearing of the fog isn't orchestrated by some dramatic reveal or anything like a twist; it just naturally grows from the story.
As like with most of McEwan's writing, I loved it.
This beginning of the book (the preface) is so convincing, so authentic, that it really seems like the author is speaking himself and devoid of any artifice. Only after a while you notice that it's not the author, but the main character who does the speaking. Still, this hooks you in and it makes everything so relatable that it's hard not to become engrossed in the story.
For me, it was a fascinating account of some of Europe's most turbulent moments, recounted from the viewpoint of the common man, which always makes for valuable insight. I also loved how the main character is trying to make sense of his in-laws and their relationship. This pushes you to agree more with one of them and then more with the other one, as the story's tides kick in.
In the end, everything clears up like a fog, making you see more clearly what you perhaps intuited all along, about who was right and who was aloof. This clearing of the fog isn't orchestrated by some dramatic reveal or anything like a twist; it just naturally grows from the story.
As like with most of McEwan's writing, I loved it.
November 3, 2019
Hay una historia, por supuesto. Tan bien escrita como de costumbre. Pero el foco real no está puesto en ella.
Entiendo que este libro es una invitación a reflexionar sobre las ideologías y creencias humanas, los motivos por los cuales nos aferramos a ellas y las defendemos, cómo nos transforman y definen. Y, sobre todo los motivos por los cuales, un buen día, las abandonamos. Este libro habla sobre ese momento de revelación en que un ser humano se cuestiona las convicciones que lo definían y transformaban, a las que defendía y a las cuales se aferraba, para dar lugar a algo nuevo y distinto, aunque no necesariamente más acertado que lo anterior. O podría ser que sí. Tal vez. Quién sabe.
McEwan, un poco en modo Zadie Smith, elige hacernos escuchar las dos perspectivas (la de la que cambió y la del que cree que ese cambio fue una locura) en las voces de un matrimonio separado. Y logra hacerlo calmada y objetivamente. Gran mérito.
Una lectura menos fascinante que muchas otras de McEwan. Pero que deja pensando.
Entiendo que este libro es una invitación a reflexionar sobre las ideologías y creencias humanas, los motivos por los cuales nos aferramos a ellas y las defendemos, cómo nos transforman y definen. Y, sobre todo los motivos por los cuales, un buen día, las abandonamos. Este libro habla sobre ese momento de revelación en que un ser humano se cuestiona las convicciones que lo definían y transformaban, a las que defendía y a las cuales se aferraba, para dar lugar a algo nuevo y distinto, aunque no necesariamente más acertado que lo anterior. O podría ser que sí. Tal vez. Quién sabe.
McEwan, un poco en modo Zadie Smith, elige hacernos escuchar las dos perspectivas (la de la que cambió y la del que cree que ese cambio fue una locura) en las voces de un matrimonio separado. Y logra hacerlo calmada y objetivamente. Gran mérito.
Una lectura menos fascinante que muchas otras de McEwan. Pero que deja pensando.
August 25, 2021
When I read the blurb, I worried I’d read this before and forgotten it: all it mentions is a young couple setting off on honeymoon and having an encounter with evil. Isn’t that the plot of The Comfort of Strangers? I thought. In fact, this only happens to have the vacation detail in common, and has a very different setup and theme overall.
Jeremy lost his parents in a car accident (my least favourite fictional trope – far too convenient a way of setting a character off on their own!) when he was eight years old, and is self-aware enough to realize that he has been seeking for parental figures ever after. He becomes deeply immersed in the story of his wife’s parents, Bernard and June, even embarking on writing a memoir based on what June, from her nursing home bed, tells him of their early life (Part One).
After June’s death, Jeremy takes Bernard to Berlin (Part Two) to soak up the atmosphere just after the Wall comes down, but the elderly man is kicked by a skinhead. The other key thing that happens on this trip is that he refutes June’s account of their honeymoon. At June’s old house in France (Part Three), Jeremy feels her presence and seems to hear the couple’s voices. Only in Part Four do we learn what happened on their 1946 honeymoon trip to France: an encounter with literal black dogs that also has a metaphorical dimension, bringing back the horrors of World War II.
I think the novel is also meant to contrast Communist ideals – Bernard and June were members of the Party in their youth – with how Communism has played out in history. It was shortlisted for the Booker, which made me feel that I must be missing something. A fairly interesting read, most similar in his oeuvre (at least of the 15 I’ve read so far) to The Child in Time.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
Jeremy lost his parents in a car accident (my least favourite fictional trope – far too convenient a way of setting a character off on their own!) when he was eight years old, and is self-aware enough to realize that he has been seeking for parental figures ever after. He becomes deeply immersed in the story of his wife’s parents, Bernard and June, even embarking on writing a memoir based on what June, from her nursing home bed, tells him of their early life (Part One).
After June’s death, Jeremy takes Bernard to Berlin (Part Two) to soak up the atmosphere just after the Wall comes down, but the elderly man is kicked by a skinhead. The other key thing that happens on this trip is that he refutes June’s account of their honeymoon. At June’s old house in France (Part Three), Jeremy feels her presence and seems to hear the couple’s voices. Only in Part Four do we learn what happened on their 1946 honeymoon trip to France: an encounter with literal black dogs that also has a metaphorical dimension, bringing back the horrors of World War II.
I think the novel is also meant to contrast Communist ideals – Bernard and June were members of the Party in their youth – with how Communism has played out in history. It was shortlisted for the Booker, which made me feel that I must be missing something. A fairly interesting read, most similar in his oeuvre (at least of the 15 I’ve read so far) to The Child in Time.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
January 7, 2010
He tries to meditate upon profound themes in a short span of 174 pages and he ends up being tiresomely symbolic and a real windbag too :
"But the next day, and the day after, and on all the succeeding days, they never set foot in the metaphorical landscape of their future. The next day they turned back. They never descended the Gorge de Vis and walked by the mysterious raised canal that disappears into the rock, never crossed the river by the medieval bridge or climbed up to cross the Causse de Blandas and wander among the prehistoric menhirs, cromlechs and dolmens scattered in the wilderness, never began the long ascent of the Cevennes towards Florac. The next day they began their separate journeys."
or
"They lifted the glasses and cups so that she could spread out a white tablecloth and set down two bottles of vin de pays, glasses, a basket of bread, a bowl of olives and a handful of cutlery. Out in the vineyards, beyond the shady terasse, the cicadas intensified their hot dry sound. Now time, afternoon time, which in the Midi is as elemental as air and light, expanded and rolled billowingly outwards across the rest of the day, and upwards to the vaults of the cobalt sky, freeing everyone in its delicious sprawl from their obligations."
I mean, that's just crap isn't it.
"But the next day, and the day after, and on all the succeeding days, they never set foot in the metaphorical landscape of their future. The next day they turned back. They never descended the Gorge de Vis and walked by the mysterious raised canal that disappears into the rock, never crossed the river by the medieval bridge or climbed up to cross the Causse de Blandas and wander among the prehistoric menhirs, cromlechs and dolmens scattered in the wilderness, never began the long ascent of the Cevennes towards Florac. The next day they began their separate journeys."
or
"They lifted the glasses and cups so that she could spread out a white tablecloth and set down two bottles of vin de pays, glasses, a basket of bread, a bowl of olives and a handful of cutlery. Out in the vineyards, beyond the shady terasse, the cicadas intensified their hot dry sound. Now time, afternoon time, which in the Midi is as elemental as air and light, expanded and rolled billowingly outwards across the rest of the day, and upwards to the vaults of the cobalt sky, freeing everyone in its delicious sprawl from their obligations."
I mean, that's just crap isn't it.
April 28, 2020
A writer is collecting information to draft a memoir of his mother-in-law who is terminal ill; he uncovers an amazing story of how his mother-in-law and father-in-law met and fell in love on how their relationship was forever changed by what the mother-in-law truly saw as a confrontation with evil... black dogs. An understated yet as a whole quite potent tale that looks at the power that can be exerted by an exposure to evil and also of how differing personal ideologies can impact on loving human relationships. 6 out of 12
July 31, 2012
"Ever since I lost mine in a road accident when I was eight, I have had my eye on other people's parents..." Jeremy, first person narrator in Ian McEwan's BLACK DOGS, finds what he is searching for in the parents of his wife Jenny, June and Bernard Tremaine. Placing the exploration of his in-laws' complicated relationship over five decades at the story's core around which the philosophical, spiritual and moral themes are continually gyrating, McEwan masterfully dissects the private sphere within and against the context of political developments in post-war Europe.
Jeremy, having agreed to assist the now ailing June to write her memoir, attempts to reach beyond her version of memories, by talking, in parallel to Bernard. For a better understanding of his own relationships, he needs to lead the couple back to the root-cause for their estrangement that has torn them apart, despite the strong emotional ties that have kept them, at times painfully, connected. McEwan's narration moves fluidly back and forth between the present discussions between June and Jeremy and the various pertinent timelines, going back to 1946 and the couple's honeymoon in a remote region of southern France. The black dogs of the title, introduced early on in the "Preface", reappear persistently throughout whether in June's dreams or in her recalling their appearance that so frightened her back then. While the actual circumstances are only revealed at the end of the book, in June's mind the dogs have evolved into something much more fundamental for her: a symbol of Menace and Evil that she has to counteract spiritually as best as she can.
There is much in this brief novel to capture the attention and imagination of the reader. The evocation of June's sense of happiness and fearful foreboding set against the beautiful, yet menacing barren landscape, is exquisite. McEwan convincingly contrasts June's and Bernard's opposing characters that the deep ties cannot mediate. "...a silly occultist and [...]a fish-eyed commissar.." is June's apt definition. Jeremy is a sensitively depicted, pleasant enough character who "is found by love" in his late thirties. However, several aspects of the book jarred for me and reduced the full engagement with the story and the characters. For example, the Preface reveals much important context beyond Jeremy, his relation to his wife and family and the events that led June and Bernard to move their lives into different directions: it already touches upon the core issues of the novel that might have had more impact on me were they to unfold slowly over the course of the narration. Furthermore, the novel's structure into four distinct Parts, deliberately disrupts the main narrative flows. While these on the one hand allowing for a deeper exploration of specific time periods and political events, for example, the Fall of the Berlin Wall, they seem, on the other, to skew the balance of importance that these events might have for the essence of the novel. Within the selection of these expansive semi-autonomous sub-stories we find some less than probable and/or extreme circumstances that are in danger of reducing the authenticity of other aspects of the novel and, for this reader, affect the overall enjoyment of the book. Without revealing any story details, nothing more can be said about these here. However, the issue of balance between primary story and semi-autonomous sub-story becomes more prominent in later McEwan novels, for example Atonement: A Novel.
Jeremy, having agreed to assist the now ailing June to write her memoir, attempts to reach beyond her version of memories, by talking, in parallel to Bernard. For a better understanding of his own relationships, he needs to lead the couple back to the root-cause for their estrangement that has torn them apart, despite the strong emotional ties that have kept them, at times painfully, connected. McEwan's narration moves fluidly back and forth between the present discussions between June and Jeremy and the various pertinent timelines, going back to 1946 and the couple's honeymoon in a remote region of southern France. The black dogs of the title, introduced early on in the "Preface", reappear persistently throughout whether in June's dreams or in her recalling their appearance that so frightened her back then. While the actual circumstances are only revealed at the end of the book, in June's mind the dogs have evolved into something much more fundamental for her: a symbol of Menace and Evil that she has to counteract spiritually as best as she can.
There is much in this brief novel to capture the attention and imagination of the reader. The evocation of June's sense of happiness and fearful foreboding set against the beautiful, yet menacing barren landscape, is exquisite. McEwan convincingly contrasts June's and Bernard's opposing characters that the deep ties cannot mediate. "...a silly occultist and [...]a fish-eyed commissar.." is June's apt definition. Jeremy is a sensitively depicted, pleasant enough character who "is found by love" in his late thirties. However, several aspects of the book jarred for me and reduced the full engagement with the story and the characters. For example, the Preface reveals much important context beyond Jeremy, his relation to his wife and family and the events that led June and Bernard to move their lives into different directions: it already touches upon the core issues of the novel that might have had more impact on me were they to unfold slowly over the course of the narration. Furthermore, the novel's structure into four distinct Parts, deliberately disrupts the main narrative flows. While these on the one hand allowing for a deeper exploration of specific time periods and political events, for example, the Fall of the Berlin Wall, they seem, on the other, to skew the balance of importance that these events might have for the essence of the novel. Within the selection of these expansive semi-autonomous sub-stories we find some less than probable and/or extreme circumstances that are in danger of reducing the authenticity of other aspects of the novel and, for this reader, affect the overall enjoyment of the book. Without revealing any story details, nothing more can be said about these here. However, the issue of balance between primary story and semi-autonomous sub-story becomes more prominent in later McEwan novels, for example Atonement: A Novel.
November 21, 2018
I listened to this on a long drive last weekend. The writing was gorgeous, and some of the sections were interesting, but it didn't hang together as a novel. There was a section where a man goes for a walk and has dinner in a restaurant where he sees parents being horrible to a child, and gets into an altercation with the father. I loved it as a stand-alone piece, but didn't see what it was doing in the middle of this novel, unless I was missing something.
Also, the woman who has the incident with the dogs...if it's so traumatic (and it sounds it) why doesn't she leave France immediately? Why go on another walk, and then buy a house near where it happened.
Good writing isn't enough.
Also, the woman who has the incident with the dogs...if it's so traumatic (and it sounds it) why doesn't she leave France immediately? Why go on another walk, and then buy a house near where it happened.
Good writing isn't enough.
November 14, 2013
The introduction to this book blew me away.
It sometimes so happens that I start reading a book without really thinking about it. For the first 5, 10 pages, I don't take it "seriously", if you will. I think it's sort of a professional flaw, after reading so many books, I know from the very first one or two pages, how many more I can afford to not attentively read. Usually, that happens when you don't have too many characters and so there are not many introductions to be made.
When I read something that has a preface, maybe written by the author, like Stephen King does on a lot of his books, maybe by a critic, it's even worse. I don't mean to say I don't pay attention, it's just I don't get into it. I read it cooly, calmly, without any emotion for the story whatsoever.
The reason I'm writing now this whole thing is because with Black Dogs, it was completely different. The preface, written by the author but through his main character and completely connected to the story, hit me after about 20 rows in the first page. This is only on a personal level, and I know that it won't be the same for anyone else - I'm just stating an opinion here.
I related to the first 5, 6 pages in the most painful and eye-opening way. Few books do that to me. And I feel really good knowing there are/were authors out there that know how to write with the purpose of touching someone's mind or heart, not just their wallet.
It sometimes so happens that I start reading a book without really thinking about it. For the first 5, 10 pages, I don't take it "seriously", if you will. I think it's sort of a professional flaw, after reading so many books, I know from the very first one or two pages, how many more I can afford to not attentively read. Usually, that happens when you don't have too many characters and so there are not many introductions to be made.
When I read something that has a preface, maybe written by the author, like Stephen King does on a lot of his books, maybe by a critic, it's even worse. I don't mean to say I don't pay attention, it's just I don't get into it. I read it cooly, calmly, without any emotion for the story whatsoever.
The reason I'm writing now this whole thing is because with Black Dogs, it was completely different. The preface, written by the author but through his main character and completely connected to the story, hit me after about 20 rows in the first page. This is only on a personal level, and I know that it won't be the same for anyone else - I'm just stating an opinion here.
I related to the first 5, 6 pages in the most painful and eye-opening way. Few books do that to me. And I feel really good knowing there are/were authors out there that know how to write with the purpose of touching someone's mind or heart, not just their wallet.
May 25, 2020
83rd book of 2020.
My McEwan ratings vary so much that he appears to be a yo-yo on my profile. Some I rate horribly low. If you couldn't care less about what I rated his other novels, skip to the following paragraph. Most recently, I gave his 2010 novel Solar a brutal 1 star (Mean review here). I also rated The Cement Garden, Amsterdam and The Innocent 2 stars. On Chesil Beach marked a high point for me, when it hit 3 stars, and I believed it would be the highest McEwan could score from me. I was wrong. The Child in Time bagged a wonderful 5 - which I'll link here because it's a nice positive review: This is me being nice to McEwan.
So, Black Dogs. I knew before starting this book that Winston Churchill famously called his depression his 'black dog'. I can't remember why but I went through a phase of being rather interested in him as a teenager, where I discovered this fact, and many others, like how he always had to stand away from the edge of train platforms, for he didn't trust himself enough and was worried he would jump in front of one. This book is about depression. It's also about memory, about love, about politics, about God, about spirits, about fate, about the Second World War, about evil and violence, about marriage, and children, and orphans. This book is only 174 pages long.
As readers, McEwan makes us trip through this novel. I've thought about using this verb a lot, but I'm settling with it. Trip is clumsy, yes, but it is also sudden, and above all, random. Of course tripping isn't random as such, one trips because one is clumsy, or fails to notice an uneven cobblestone, or else is drunk... But the tripping that happens in this novel takes us through different countries and time - England, Berlin, France. We trip from 1989 and 1946 as Jeremy writes the memoir of his father and mother-in-law, who are not divorced but never see one another, who live in separate countries. There are long drawn out scenes- seeing the Berlin Wall on a television set, actually being at the Wall in 1989, a brilliant hotel scene concerning a random family, and of course, at the novel's peak - the scene with the black dogs, who are...what? Real? Depression, as they were for Churchill? Or evil itself?
This book whispers. I find it funny that the McEwan books I hate are rated so well, and this that I loved is rated so poorly. Despite the bias I have against McEwan, despite the premonition that I will hate any of his books before I start them, I liked this one from the very first line.
Ever since I lost mine in a road accident when I was eight, I have had my eye on other people's parents.
Not only is it a beautifully weighted sentence, it is also a disarming one, slightly confusing, one first read. But from this sentence, the delicate but powerful novel unfurls. I found lovely wisdom in this book which I have not found in his other works, particularly his later work. Lovely lines like, He hates silence, so he knows nothing. I would write the whole observation out, but I won't for the sake of the length, but Bernard has a brilliant, moving thought on the war, which McEwan writes so skilfully. Here is just a part of it, For the first time he sensed the scale of the catastrophe in terms of feeling; all those unique and solitary deaths, all that consequent sorrow, unique and solitary too, which had no place in conferences, headlines, history, and which had quietly retired to houses, kitchens, unshared beds, and anguished memories.
Writer Gary Giddens said about this novel, "McEwan's narratives are small and focused, but resonate far into the night." I desperately wish to share the final paragraph of this novel, but I will not, because I believe that it must be read at the end of this bizarre, short-lived novel to strike its note, which is like a solitary train horn - indeed as Giddens suggests - which resonates far into the night. To quote the book again, for this feeling applies to reaching the end of the novel, You know how it is when you've been with someone so intensely for hours on end, and then you're on your own again. It's as if you've been in a dream. You come to yourself. It is similar, for this novel is like fragmented dreams, and because those black dogs are black stains in the grey of the dawn.
My McEwan ratings vary so much that he appears to be a yo-yo on my profile. Some I rate horribly low. If you couldn't care less about what I rated his other novels, skip to the following paragraph. Most recently, I gave his 2010 novel Solar a brutal 1 star (Mean review here). I also rated The Cement Garden, Amsterdam and The Innocent 2 stars. On Chesil Beach marked a high point for me, when it hit 3 stars, and I believed it would be the highest McEwan could score from me. I was wrong. The Child in Time bagged a wonderful 5 - which I'll link here because it's a nice positive review: This is me being nice to McEwan.
So, Black Dogs. I knew before starting this book that Winston Churchill famously called his depression his 'black dog'. I can't remember why but I went through a phase of being rather interested in him as a teenager, where I discovered this fact, and many others, like how he always had to stand away from the edge of train platforms, for he didn't trust himself enough and was worried he would jump in front of one. This book is about depression. It's also about memory, about love, about politics, about God, about spirits, about fate, about the Second World War, about evil and violence, about marriage, and children, and orphans. This book is only 174 pages long.
As readers, McEwan makes us trip through this novel. I've thought about using this verb a lot, but I'm settling with it. Trip is clumsy, yes, but it is also sudden, and above all, random. Of course tripping isn't random as such, one trips because one is clumsy, or fails to notice an uneven cobblestone, or else is drunk... But the tripping that happens in this novel takes us through different countries and time - England, Berlin, France. We trip from 1989 and 1946 as Jeremy writes the memoir of his father and mother-in-law, who are not divorced but never see one another, who live in separate countries. There are long drawn out scenes- seeing the Berlin Wall on a television set, actually being at the Wall in 1989, a brilliant hotel scene concerning a random family, and of course, at the novel's peak - the scene with the black dogs, who are...what? Real? Depression, as they were for Churchill? Or evil itself?
This book whispers. I find it funny that the McEwan books I hate are rated so well, and this that I loved is rated so poorly. Despite the bias I have against McEwan, despite the premonition that I will hate any of his books before I start them, I liked this one from the very first line.
Ever since I lost mine in a road accident when I was eight, I have had my eye on other people's parents.
Not only is it a beautifully weighted sentence, it is also a disarming one, slightly confusing, one first read. But from this sentence, the delicate but powerful novel unfurls. I found lovely wisdom in this book which I have not found in his other works, particularly his later work. Lovely lines like, He hates silence, so he knows nothing. I would write the whole observation out, but I won't for the sake of the length, but Bernard has a brilliant, moving thought on the war, which McEwan writes so skilfully. Here is just a part of it, For the first time he sensed the scale of the catastrophe in terms of feeling; all those unique and solitary deaths, all that consequent sorrow, unique and solitary too, which had no place in conferences, headlines, history, and which had quietly retired to houses, kitchens, unshared beds, and anguished memories.
Writer Gary Giddens said about this novel, "McEwan's narratives are small and focused, but resonate far into the night." I desperately wish to share the final paragraph of this novel, but I will not, because I believe that it must be read at the end of this bizarre, short-lived novel to strike its note, which is like a solitary train horn - indeed as Giddens suggests - which resonates far into the night. To quote the book again, for this feeling applies to reaching the end of the novel, You know how it is when you've been with someone so intensely for hours on end, and then you're on your own again. It's as if you've been in a dream. You come to yourself. It is similar, for this novel is like fragmented dreams, and because those black dogs are black stains in the grey of the dawn.
June 13, 2018
Forte et quod scio nolim,et quod nescio volo.
I cani neri :simbolo dell'inquietudine innominabile e irragionevole che talvolta ti assale e incarnazione delle minacce che ti senti dentro.
Quando non sai bene cosa vuoi
o forse non vuoi quello che sai
(e vuoi quello che non sai)
Le nostre esistenze si erano raccolte attorno a questo attimo sublime:un luogo sacro che vantava cinquemila anni di storia , il nostro amore reciproco , la luce ,l'immenso spazio che ci si apriva davanti. Eppure noi non sapevamo coglierne l'essenza,non sapevamo tenercela dentro. Non eravamo capaci di vivere liberi il nostro presente.
E insistevamo nel voler liberare gli altri,volevamo pensare alla loro infelicità,usavamo la loro miseria per mascherare la nostra. Che si fondava sull'incapacità di accettare le cose semplici e belle che la vita ci offriva ed esserne soddisfatti. La politica ,quella fatta di ideali, si occupa solo del futuro.Ho impiegato il resto della mia vita per scoprire che nel momento in cui si entra completamente nel proprio presente, vi si scoprono spazi infiniti , tempo infinito ,
chiamalo Dio se ti pare
I cani neri :simbolo dell'inquietudine innominabile e irragionevole che talvolta ti assale e incarnazione delle minacce che ti senti dentro.
Quando non sai bene cosa vuoi
o forse non vuoi quello che sai
(e vuoi quello che non sai)
Le nostre esistenze si erano raccolte attorno a questo attimo sublime:un luogo sacro che vantava cinquemila anni di storia , il nostro amore reciproco , la luce ,l'immenso spazio che ci si apriva davanti. Eppure noi non sapevamo coglierne l'essenza,non sapevamo tenercela dentro. Non eravamo capaci di vivere liberi il nostro presente.
E insistevamo nel voler liberare gli altri,volevamo pensare alla loro infelicità,usavamo la loro miseria per mascherare la nostra. Che si fondava sull'incapacità di accettare le cose semplici e belle che la vita ci offriva ed esserne soddisfatti. La politica ,quella fatta di ideali, si occupa solo del futuro.Ho impiegato il resto della mia vita per scoprire che nel momento in cui si entra completamente nel proprio presente, vi si scoprono spazi infiniti , tempo infinito ,
chiamalo Dio se ti pare
July 10, 2014
This was a really something and nothing book.
I read it a few months ago and normally even confused or disjointed novels look clearer to me from a distance. Rather like seeing a landscape with a fuller perspective and you can catch the beauty of the overall effect, the roll of the hills, the gathering of the woodland, the undulations of the streams which you miss if you are too close. It is only when you step out of the immediacy of the thing that you see its meaning, its purpose.
This hasn't happened here. It just has not gelled for me, the lack of fluidity in and of itself is not the problem, though it has a jarring effect. No, rather is it the fact that I am not sure what I am supposed to be taking from the relationships, not sure who or what I am supposed to be focusing on. I do not mean that I want spoon fed literature but I just want something which either hangs together and means something or doesn't and doesn't. In my opinion, I am not sure if McEwan really knows which it is supposed to be either.
Maybe I have just wholly misunderstood and a few more metaphorical leagues travelled will have me browing another line of hills and then I shall look back and it will all fall into place but at the moment......nope.....sorry.
I read it a few months ago and normally even confused or disjointed novels look clearer to me from a distance. Rather like seeing a landscape with a fuller perspective and you can catch the beauty of the overall effect, the roll of the hills, the gathering of the woodland, the undulations of the streams which you miss if you are too close. It is only when you step out of the immediacy of the thing that you see its meaning, its purpose.
This hasn't happened here. It just has not gelled for me, the lack of fluidity in and of itself is not the problem, though it has a jarring effect. No, rather is it the fact that I am not sure what I am supposed to be taking from the relationships, not sure who or what I am supposed to be focusing on. I do not mean that I want spoon fed literature but I just want something which either hangs together and means something or doesn't and doesn't. In my opinion, I am not sure if McEwan really knows which it is supposed to be either.
Maybe I have just wholly misunderstood and a few more metaphorical leagues travelled will have me browing another line of hills and then I shall look back and it will all fall into place but at the moment......nope.....sorry.
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