'First Love, Last Rites': loving/hating McEwan
I recently finished reading First Love, Last Rites, a collection of short stories by Ian McEwan, and although I am about to berate him in much of this entry, I have to give credit to McEwan for leaving an ineradicable impression, whether enjoyed or not. These unsettling tales depict often disturbed and perverse narrators performing sinister acts, namely murder and rape, and have stayed with me since reading them.
Upon finishing the first story, 'Solid Geometry', I was filled with an overwhelming admiration and love for McEwan. He tells of a man who discovers a plane with no surface in to which objects can disappear, and single handedly maintained my interest in a rather scientific topic (rarely happens) by subtly weaving it with undertones of the occult (guaranteed to engage me). This short story lures the reader into a world of intrigue, fascination and enigmatic violence; I found myself in and almost dream-like state, observing the historical events alongside the narrator, which made the end all the more shocking, bizarre and confusing (in a good way) for me. I don't want to give away anything for those who have not read it but wish to, but when I turned the last page of this book I found myself utterly baffled as to how I felt: was I shocked, upset and angry? Or was I stunned, entranced and fascinated? In many ways I felt all these emotions at once, perhaps most succinctly described as a morbid fascination. I applaud McEwan for his ability to implore you to question your morals, and wonder whether you too are of dubious morality for being so drawn in to and enjoying such a story.
However, my applause abruptly ended after reading many of the other stories, 'Butterflies' and 'Homemade' are of particular note in what I am about to discuss. 'Solid Geometry' was so fascinating to me due to the bizarre, unexpected and unclear way in which it shocked. The violence is so subtle, inexplicit and ambiguous that it draws you in rather than repulsing you, something I had not really come across before. This technique is totally lost in the later stories, leaving me utterly disappointed. 'Butterflies' and 'Homemade' to me read as if McEwan has said to himself, "Now, what will readers find really, really shocking?", then answered with "Yes, murder, rape and incest, perfect". I felt frustrated that after depicting violence and perversity in such a new and interesting way, leaving the reader with a multiplicity of questions about the text itself and their own reaction to it, McEwan resulted to such blatant modes of shocking someone. To me, these two stories in particular left me repulsed and unsettled, but little else. The topics felt overused and obvious, and left me with little connection to the stories. Yes, they were disturbing and sad, but had they been presented as a news piece I would have felt the same. It seems a shame that the skill with which McEwan drew in and captured the attention and imagination of the reader, and represented violence in such an intriguing way, was not utilised throughout the collection.
However, the title does seem apt: I moved from love with 'Solid Geometry', to wishing for my last rites while reading 'Butterflies'. (Desperately searched for a good pun from the title, sadly yet to think of one).