![]() But the products, easy to read, are just as easy to forget, leaving behind no more than a memory of a generically McEwan-esque plot of concealment, deception, and trauma, tinged always with a sense of the uncanny. They come, as he has put it, from his discovery of “how realism could be bolstered by the actual”. McEwan is a gifted enough craftsman for the novels to feel like real novels, not veiled essays. ![]() They have seemed like occasional writings, responses to current affairs and its “themes”: humanitarian intervention, blood transfusions for the children of Jehovah’s Witnesses, the CIA and the Cold War, climate change. ![]() The books have been getting thinner, and not just physically. Ian McEwan’s literary production since his last really excellent book – Atonement, from 2001 – has shown a tendency to progressive emaciation. ![]()
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