Meh. I usually love McEwan's novels - his writing is beautiful. In fact, I think he is one of the greatest writers I have ever read. His sentences leap off the page, his paragraphs contain pearls of well-constructed widsom, and the blandest of moments become inspiring. Amsterdam, however, is lacking this greatness. Yes, the novel is probably better written than many other books, but it does not have that spark of greatness that I have come to expect from McEwan.

The plot is interesting enough - it is a tale of morality, of politics, and of the destruction of friendship. The two main characters are well-constructed, and the narrative contains many twists and turns. But, it is no Atonement - a book with characters that I cared about, and themes that resonated in my own life. I finished Amsterdam and immediately moved on to my next book. I didn't stop to ponder passages, or to reflect on the ending - something that I almost always do.

I still love McEwan - you can't give up on an author because of one mis-step, right? ( )

My least favorite book by McEwan; I didn't like the story or the ending, which seemed contrived.

Favorite quotes:

"Instead it seemed to Vernon that he was infinitely diluted; he was simply the sum of all the people who had listened to him, and when he was alone, he was nothing at all."

"In his corner of West London, and in his self-preoccupied daily round, it was easy for Clive to think of civilization as the sum of all the arts, along with design, cuisine, good wine, and the like. But now it appeared that this was what it really was - square miles of meager modern houses whose principal purpose was the support of TV aerials and dishes; factories producing worthless junk to be advertised on the televisions and, in dismal lots, lorries queueing to distribute it; and everywhere else, roads and the tyranny of traffic. ... To watch it mile after mile, who would have guessed that kindness or the imagination, that Purcell or Britten, Shakespeare or Milton, had ever existed?"

"They should have been ridiculous, these photographs, they were ridiculous, but Clive was somewhat awed. We knew so little about each other. We lay mostly submerged, like ice floes, with our visible social selves projecting only cool and white. Here was a rare sight below the waves, of a man's privacy and turmoil...." ( )

Composer Clive Linley and his journalist friend Vernon Halliday meet at the funeral of Molly Lane, a woman who had been the lover of both men. Also at the funeral is foreign secretary Julian Garmony, a man whom both Clive and Vernon detest, and, not surprisingly, a man who also was friendly with Molly. As the story unfolds, both of the main characters show their ruthless ambition, boundless egos, and moral bankruptcy. It gets a little tiring to read their endless speculations about their own personal greatness. When some compromising photos of Garmony surface, Halliday is faced with the decision whether to publish them in hopes of saving his journalism career and the flagging circulation of his newspaper or pass on them. Not surprisingly, his ambition wins the day, but the outcome is not as Halliday had hoped as a consequence of the political acuity of Garmony’s wife. Linley vehemently disagrees with Halliday’s decision to publish the photos and sees himself as taking the moral high ground. However, when he takes a hiking trip in the country to clear his mind and finish the millenial composition he has been commissioned to write, he witnesses a suspicious encounter between a man and woman but cannot be distracted from his work to go to the police and report it. McEwan’s writing, as usual, is excellent and his cynical approach to the main characters will keep you smiling. For me, however, it is hard to enjoy a novel thoroughly if I cannot find some redeeming value in at least one character, and none here qualify. Thus, ultimately I found the novel disappointing. The ending is macabre and ironic (given the nature of a pact made between the two friends earlier in the story) and it takes place in the city for which the book is named – which is quite logical for legal purposes. I don’t mean to be obtuse, but I don’t want to spoil the story for you should you choose to read it. As I said, this one is not my favorite McEwan. I much prefer “Saturday.” ( )

I was expecting the odd ending since I had read the reviews. The writing was good but I too found it contrived and just not realistic. I listened to the audio version and the reader was terrific though. Perfect for that chiseled prose. ( )

When the electrifying Molly Lane dies of a swift and terrible illness, two of her former lovers, Clive Linley and Vernon Halliday, meet at her funeral. Both men fear for the uncertainty of the future and their mortality, which leads them to make a pact with each other that will have vast and far-reaching consequences. Meanwhile, Clive, a modern genius of a composer, is charged with writing the score of the millennial concert, while Vernon is the editor-in-chief of a floundering newspaper that would do anything to increase its circulation. When Vernon receives stunning information about another of Molly's lovers, the foreign secretary Juilian Garmony, he believes that his newspaper can be saved from its torpor with news of this sensational story, but Clive strongly disagrees. In his opinion, Vernon is being traitorous to Molly's memory and more than a little unkind to Garmony. This argument seriously undermines the friends' relationship and pits each against the other. As Vernon rushes to get his story to print and Clive puts the finishing touches on his symphony, both men find that life has other plans for them. Both Clive and Vernon, driven by their desire for success and renown, will make a terrible choice that will lead them towards the paths of their destruction, and toward the agreement that binds them together.

Frankly, I would read a telephone book if it was penned my McEwan. His perfect eye for prose and the significant weight of his dialogue has impressed me on many occasions. He has a way of capturing the visceral traits in human behavior that people so desperately try to hide. I believe very few authors can compare to McEwan's brilliance. That said, this book was disappointing. I felt that the characters had too much egotism and callousness to make them sympathetic. Vernon and Clive, although cut from different cloths, were much like two sides of the same coin. Clive was entirely too self-absorbed and shallow. He always seemed to be only half-aware of his social actions and their repercussions and he held firm to outdated beliefs and mindsets. Vernon was unlikeable as well. He was also self-absorbed, and there was a cruelty in him that made him slightly repugnant. I found myself growing very tired of his fits of righteous indignation and his issues of entitlement. I was ill at ease with both of these men and their behavior, and it made it very hard to connect and sympathize with their plights. I didn't feel sorry for either of them when things began to turn sour; in fact it seemed as though they were getting what they deserved. I felt rather impersonally towards these characters because neither of the men seemed to have any redeeming or humanizing qualities, nothing to give them the spark of life I was looking for. They seemed almost too stereotypical. I also didn't like the way in which their supposedly great friendship devolved into petty and inconsequential cat fighting. They carried their grudges like heavy weights across their backs, obsessing constantly over perceived slights. This got tiresome very quickly and made the story seem uninteresting and flat.

The conclusion of the story had an ironic twist, but it was so absurdly concocted that it almost became comical. It was at once both overblown and operatic, and although I saw it coming, I couldn't believe it would actually play out in the way that it did. It seemed something so oddly out of character for this writer to conceive of a finale like this, and it ultimately strained the credulity of the book to the breaking point for me. Yes, this book was intended to be satirical, but I think it overreached and instead became ludicrous.

After all the issues I had with this book, there were some very redeeming qualities about it. McEwan's writing was both clever and beautiful, elegant and cultured in a way that entrances. In certain parts of the book he writes so fluidly about the composition of music, I had to wonder if he ever studied classical music. The pages describing Clive at work on his symphony were lush, inviting and thrilling. In my opinion, they were the best scenes in the book. In addition, McEwan has a style of writing that is both acerbic and astute. He has great wit on the page and seems to have a way of unlocking a multi-layered strata of meaning in his narratives. My final impression was that though the language was both satisfying and rich, I felt that this book was reaching and could not find purchase, as there was too little to savor and far too much discordance in the story.

For those who are McEwan fans, this book certainly deserves a perusal but I wouldn't recommend it to for a first time read of this author. If you are the type of person who is in love with language and appreciates the turn of a phrase above all, then this book will not disappoint, but if you are looking for something with a satirical bent there are better books out there. The fact that this book won the Booker Award is somewhat surprising to me. I think McEwan is a fabulous writer but this is not his finest work, and at times it felt like he was not giving it his all. If you really want to get a taste of McEwan's brilliance, I recommend Atonement. ( )