Saturday

I enjoy most of McEwan's books. They read like those Dutch Master still-lifes: beautiful, but corrupt. Saturday though was a real disappointment. In a departure from his exploration of attractive, but ultimately rotten characters, McEwan tries to define a hero for our times, a model of a man. But every detail is banal and indulgent. The pathetic pleasure Perowne takes in the hum of a Mercedes says it all. I advise McEwan to stick to the portraits he renders so exquisitely: the self-absorbed individual, haplessly complicit in his own demise. True heroism and redemption seem within reach for Briony in Atonement, but not for our man with the smart townhouse and squash club in London. In the end he - and the novel - are simply complacent.

At first I was a bit disappointed that a number of the reviews here and on Amazon rated Saturday so poorly. I thought it was magnificent.

After a little thought, I think I know why this book has polarised opinion so much. It is written by, about, and for the middle-aged male. I am one of those. (It might appeal to women as well, but I can only speak for myself.)

If you have ever felt jealous of (but at the same time admiring) the achievements of your children and their generation, while at the same time resenting (but taking pride in) the careers of your parents or parents-in-law and their generation, you will find something in Ian McEwan's book that speaks to you. If you feel youthful whilst fearing the onset of senility, if you have a show more Saturday routine that has come to define your week, if you are between 42 and 52, you will understand Henry Perowne.

Even if you are not part of the obvious audience for this book, put aside your concerns about the obviously contrived elements (all the action taking place on one day or the power of Dover Beach to turn the tide of an armed burglary) and enjoy the beautifully constructed prose and characterisation. (And, if you are younger than 42, anticipate your future.) show less

McEwan's key strategy is to pit reason against chaos and art against arbitrariness as he orchestrates thorny moral dilemmas and menacing situations. This is the structure underlying his Booker Prize-winning Amsterdam (1998), his best-selling Atonement 2002), and this tightly focused, high-performance, stream-of-consciousness drama about one day in the life of a sanguine London neurosurgeon. Henry Perowne is a good man. He loves to perform delicate operations while listening to classical music, and he adores his smart lawyer wife, adventurous poet daughter, and gentle musician son. For him this particular Saturday in February 2003 is a day full of promise, even though he's had a strange night and London is gearing up for an immense show more protest march against the impending war in Iraq, and even though he gets into a frightening altercation with a twitchy thug named Baxter, a confrontation he escapes by diagnosing his attacker's degenerative condition. It's been said that what makes literature so enthralling is its devotion to detail and its digressions. McEwan is a master of both, and consequently the reader reads this embroiling tale with two minds: one luxuriating in Henry's piquant ruminations on everything from the dysfunctions of the brain to evolution, Iraq, and society's retreat from "big ideas"; the other cued to suspense: how will Baxter exact his revenge? McEwan is as provocative, transporting, and brilliant as ever as he considers both our vulnerability and our strength, particularly our ability to create sanctuary in a violent world. show less

Precision. The meticulous writing perfectly accompanies the main character. Perowne is a surgeon by profession and takes the same cool, calculating analytical frame of mind into the rest of his life. New to Ian McEwan, I am stunned by the author’s meticulous attention to language. The vocabulary is impressive and leads the reader to examine new thoughts and understand exactly where the character of Perowne lives. His self reflective style allows access to the internal character and the levels of thought throughout a single Saturday and to the decisions that present. Anyone getting close to fifty can relate; the issues of newly grownup children, taking care of an elderly parent, the state of the world post 9-11, the minute occurances show more and the life altering turns that occur during the course of one day. What happens to one industrious, cautious, perfectionistic man when confronted with the uncontrollable? The conclusion is heroic, partly disappointing when Perowne is dismissive of consequences beyond himself, but an honest male perspective. Word choice alone is enough to recommend this book. show less

This is the story of one day, Saturday, in the life of Henry Perowne, neurosurgeon, a well-drawn, convincing character. The story would not have worked on any other day of the week, because Saturday is the day filled with plans that can't be fitted into the working week: a squash game, a protest march, a visit to mother. The author does a fine job of letting the reader inside Perowne's head to see how he considers life in close-up. A description of his squash game might have been dull but instead it was interesting to see how the game developed and compared with the events of the day.

McEwan's story dips into many topics: politics, literature, music, war, surgery, family relationships, aging, and morality. It was a thought-provoking show more story that I enjoyed, especially the ending, where the topic of morality played a part. However, it is McEwan's beautiful prose that is the real draw for me: his words pour onto the paper like honey. But why do I always think he writes with the Booker prize in mind? show less

This is an absolute tour de force of writing....*5...and yet, I didnt love it - even as I was thinking "how can anyone write that brilliantly"
Neorosurgeon Henry Perowne, is an absolute success. Top of the tree professionall; a lovely lawyer wife and an AMAZING marriage; a poet father in law; and two wonderful children- a musician who's going places and a published poetess daughter.
Now...you're going to struggle to keep the reader rooting for such flawless individuals.
Covering a 24-hour period in his life: London-based Henry ruminates on the uncertain world he inhabits - war with Iraq imminent, civil unrest, the aging process..
A minor car crash brings him into contact with violent thug Baxter.....not merely a crim, but (as Henry's show more analytical eye soon deduces) in the first stages of a a neurological disorder.
While we dont LIKE Baxter, we (well, I) found him marginally more sympathetic than the well-heeled family..
McEwan writes minutely: the detailed descriptions of operations were more gripping than the blow by blow account of a squash game.
Look, the author's meditations on life strike to the heart. But the Perowne clan left me cold... show less

Cringeworthy I. Any description of surgery makes me cringe. I feel invaded and have almost no ability to disassociate things medical. I even scream or act out in some physical way when I recall stepping on a nail which happened sixty years ago. The central character of this book is a neurosurgeon and McEwan describes his life saving surgeries in details which I had difficulty getting through. Caveat emptor.

Cringeworthy II. The neurosurgeon's mother is in a nursing home and Saturday is his day to visit her. But she's barely there. Instead the whole time he describes to us the toll that aging takes on what was once an athletic body. His mother had been a competitive swimmer and was often running. No more. She has been reduced to the show more barest existence needing assistance with almost all daily activities. She's also been reduced to a small room of her own. He even describes how they held on to the home he grew up in and her things until believing she would return there was no longer feasible. Too close to home for me.

Cringeworthy III. There's more that made me uncomfortable. There's an extensive description of a home invasion involving a physical attack, a threat by the intruder to murder his wife and demanding his daughter disrobe under threat of slitting her mother's throat. Hard to take. Difficult to turn away from.

Now that I've warned you I need to let you know this may be McEwan's best book. I've read a dozen so far, even Amsterdam. Like Amsterdam this also raises some moral questions but at least this one has characters you will like. There are winners here. At first I thought a good subtitle for this book might be a day in the life of a neurosurgeon. Everything was taking place in a single day. Eventually I wondered whether this was McEwan's attempt to do a James Joyce. Fortunately this book is much shorter than Joyce's Ulysses. Like Ulysses, it moves slowly. The narrator is the central character, the neurosurgeon. He shares his thoughts and feelings and is constantly questioning his reality. The book will never become a movie. There is some dialog but the bulk of the story is the narrator talking to himself. We see his moods change as he responds to what is around him and how he interprets that.

Like most fiction this book requires some suspension of disbelief. Too many things wind up happening to him where even one of them would be somewhat difficult to believe. He has a minor car accident which he handles poorly but notices the person who he's interacting with likely has a genetic neurological condition which is both uncurable and will only get worse until death. Then that same person winds up invading the family gathering at the doctor's palatial home. And finally the doctor is called upon to operate on the same person who has severe brain damage having been thrown down steps by the doctor's son. He decides not to share with the people at the hospital that he has a relation with the patient which would normally mean he could not be the surgeon operating on the patient. His wife is concerned he might do something stupid. He performs the operation flawlessly. McEwan is clearly sending the message that these doctors are acting with godlike powers.

I recommend this book highly, but be forewarned, it may be a difficult read. show less