The Comfort of Strangers

At 6:15pm I sat down at a cafe table with a pot of tea and opened to the first words of The Comfort of Strangers. At five after nine, I closed the book and looked up, feeling euphoric and dazed. Finis. This little French coup de grace was the perfect ending to a sharp and elegant work of disturbingly precise prose. I was forced to stop several times during the reading of the book to jot down some notes that continued to plague me as I wondered at McEwan's perspective that he offers up to his reader. It is disconcerting that other reviewers have not reacted more viscerally to the way we are dropped deep into the hidden intimacies of a seven year relationship, with all its secret codes and silent communications. This is hard stuff to write! McEwan is unforgiving with his authorial gaze, looking with owl's eyes at the poetic complexities of the space between his pair of protagonists. McEwan's writing ultimately cultivates an awareness of the subtle modulations of relationships that often eludes the grasp of the best writers, and this may be one of the greatest merits of the book. How does he get close enough to these situations to be able to know them, to write them? There are perfect gems of psychological observation nestled in numerous niches in this plentiful slow prose - approaching poetry in its lingering on the value of moments and momentary situations. Again, McEwan's time is often real time, dwelling in a wickedly conspicuous manner on the long silences and awkward movements of his lovers at one moment, and the frenetic sexual energies of their reawakening to each other at another moment. In this world, every second is precious and rich, ennobled by the careful attention of the author. The writing itself is an antidote to the narcotic daze with which his characters seem to be passing through their lives, at least until they are shaken out of the lethargy by the abrupt interruptions of the unfolding plot. McEwan's novels often contain this sort of interruption, deus ex machina style for the modern stage, and there is something to the writing itself that seems to interact similarly with the reader. It is a great interruption with the disturbing reality of detailed description of the things that don't usually get talked about. The true impact of McEwan's writing will not truly be understood until time has allowed the more complete transmission of his insight into the wider culture. And his writing has the ability to reach a very wide audience. As I purchased Atonement from my local bookstore this evening, the guy behind the counter remarked "McEwan's been flyin' off the shelves lately..." All the better for readers everywhere.

Many of the trademarks we have come to expect in McEwan novels are already here in this early novel published in the U. S. in 1981, the ironic title, the complexity, the psychological tension, the ambiguities, the questions left unanswered. I was handicapped in reading this novel in that I had already seen the movie so it was impossible not to see Rupert Everett and Natasha Richardson getting lost in those maze-like alleys in Venice. (Nowhere in this slim novel, however, does McEwan name the city where the sinister action takes place.} On the other hand, since I knew the outcome, I could look for and admire the clues the author gives as to what will happen. McEwan does an excellent job of setting the tone for what ultimately occurs early in the novel. As early as page 17: "Colin and Mary had never left the hotel so late, and Mary was to attribute much of what followed to this fact." There are lots of references to the sexual tension between men and women in addition to many homoerotic allusions throughout the book that prepare you, at least in part, for the shattering climax of this horrific little novel.McEwan always gives the reader a story that appeals both to the intellect and the emotions. As usual, he doesn't disappoint us. One of the joys of living in these times is awaiting a new McEwan novel.

.............Wow, what a wild ride this was. It's about Mary and Colin, a dating couple in a stale 7 year relationship. While on vacation in an un-named location, which you are never told where they are but you know they are amongst lots of other tourists, open air cafe's by the ocean, narrow cobble stone streets, ruins and assorted attractions. One night the couple set out to have a late dinner and become lost. A strange but friendly man named Robert comes to their rescue or so it seems......Robert takes them to a bar which has no food and gets them drunk as he tells them stories about his childhood and his wife Caroline. Later they run into Robert again and he invites them to his home so he can make up for the other night promising to feed them and introduce them to his wife. That's when ........it all begins........! I will not give any more away, but Mary and Colin end up recapturing their love only to find themselves involved in something like the "Twilight Zone". I could not put this book down. The ending will amaze you!

I just finished this book over the weekend. This was the first time I was reading Ian McEwan and loved it, only because of the simple reason: He writes real well. The story centers around two so-called-lovers , Colin and Mary are vacationing in Venice ( We assume that the place is Venice as it is never once mentioned in the book, but the descriptions are good enough to reach that conclusion: Wonder why McEwan did not add the name of the place?)and suddenly bump into a couple - a rather strange couple - Robert and Caroline who seem to be quite odd and it is maybe this weirdness that attracts them to the couple. After this, I won't give away more..All I can say is that this 134 page book was an amazing read for me!! Truly enigmatic!!

This book is, I think, the best piece of prose I've ever read. The end is shocking, but on reflection only adds to the beauty of the book. The heat of venice steams from the pages, every word seems hot and sticky. I went to Venice once, when I was very young, and my memories combine perfectly with McEwan's description. It seems as if he's taken a regular length novel and boiled it down into this incredibly intense piece. Not to be missed.