I felt rather dirty reading the climatic chapter of McEwan’s upcoming book on the subway last night. This novella recounts Edward and Florence on their first night together as man and wife in 1962. You might have read the first chapterin the New Yorker’s Fiction issue. It’s an odd, intimate book. McEwan carefully dissects this couples’ relationship. He goes almost minute by minute through their awkward honeymoon dinner to the bedroom and the aftermath. Woven into this narrative are flashbacks that help illustrate the complexities of the relationship.
What’s lovely about this novel is the way in which McEwan describes all of these details, letting the reader infer how the characters feel about one another. He also lets you see the class differences between Edward and Florence without it seeming like he’s deliberately pointing them out. At Florence’s family house, Edward is assigned what the family calls the “small room”. “The ‘small room’ was larger than any of the bedrooms at the Turville Heath cottage, and possibly larger than the its sitting room.” It’s too early for the sexual liberation to have reached them. The sexual oppression reaks havoc with their relationship in ways that they can’t even communicate. We the reader understand what each is feeling but they don’t have any idea or have the capability to talk about their nervousness. Edward worries about “arriving to soon” while Florence fears the whole act of sex. She’s even repulsed by French Kissing. Both believe that their love for one another can protect them. What’s remarkable about this book is that McEwan can paint such a wonderful portrait in such a short space. This book might be 176 pages, but it’s a smaller format hardcover—4 1/2″ x 7 1/4″. It’s truly a superb work.