On Chesil Beach - Ian McEwan
It's difficult to say that this, a novella, really, of just over 160 pages, is better than Atonement, a masterful, moving, passionate, intellectual, beautiful novel of 400 odd pages. And yet, my initial reaction is to say just that. This really is, potentially McEwan's masterpiece. It seems that every word has weight and depth, which is appropriate in a story that is, as the synopsis suggests, about the power of words not said, gestures not made.
People talk of Revolutionary Road being devastating to them, and whilst I don't agree, I understand, and this had exactly that affect on me. I can feel my heart beating, and I'm sort of half shaking with adrenaline or something similar. The way McEwan writes gives this novel so much a sense of melancholy, a sense of people failing to meet at the middle, when it could be so easy. It's a brilliant, introspective look at British social structures in the early '60s, at the dawn of a new era, and just like he does with Saturday and post 9/11 - pre-Iraq London, he captures the time, the place, and the conventions so perfectly.
It's pretty easily the best book I've read so far this year (although there've only been around 5, so I suppose that's not a huge achievement, but still). It's just amazing.