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![Saturday by Ian McEwan 4th (fourth) Edition [Paperback(2006)] by Ian McEwan](https://assets.thestorygraph.com/assets/placeholder-cover-a3ae92250eb3301e32dc3eabf8d50576c2f047dda89f6ee7cfa9a859cb1fd746.jpg)
3.48 AVERAGE
3.48 AVERAGE
Saturday was a wonderful read, enrapturing. Los Angeles Times book review says to read the last 100 pages in one sitting; what they don't say is that you'll read them in one sitting because you can't put the book down. Marvelous read.
Ian McEwan has recently garnered more fame due to a popular (and drippy) movie based on one of his novels. This unfortunate Hollywood connection should not put you off to his writing, however. Sure, some of his books are duds, but this one is rather entertaining. And a bit horrific.
Extremely well-written. One day that reveals an entire life. Powerful.
Definitely a book that comes full circle. I definitely liked it, but found myself skipping over some of Perowne's thoughts toward the end. Really interesting, just a bit repetitive.
The occasion of the release of Sire McEwan's newest tome, "Nuts? Hell!" seems to me to be as good a time as any to belatedly deliver this Official Proclamation to my admiring hordes of Goodreads follow'rs:
Saturday is the worst fucking novel I have ever read.
Thank you for your time and be well.
Saturday is the worst fucking novel I have ever read.
Thank you for your time and be well.
emotional
reflective
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual content
I'm really torn between giving it 3 or 4 stars. This is definitely a book that deserves 3.5 but nothing more and also nothing less. Since it's not a book I like like I like other 4 stars I'll grade it 3 stars.
The beginning of the book is very tedious and descriptive (Dickens is nothing compared to this) and I didn't like it. I would've given up on the book if I didn't have to read it for class.
Since there is so much description I decided to stop close reading and just skip over parts (which is very doable) and that had the result of me enjoying the book and the story much more.
The beginning of the book is very tedious and descriptive (Dickens is nothing compared to this) and I didn't like it. I would've given up on the book if I didn't have to read it for class.
Since there is so much description I decided to stop close reading and just skip over parts (which is very doable) and that had the result of me enjoying the book and the story much more.
It's a little uncanny to read how McEwan, most famous for the historical novel "Atonement," paints the *contemporary era.
*Set 15 years ago, and already our world is unrecognizable! But the novel was, at least, written in the time frame the author lived in.
This was set in 2003 and published in 2005, very much in the shadow of 9/11 and the "War on Terror." I knew I was in for a book that was light on plot and this is all vibes, baby! Every object is sacred and gorgeous, every moment and minor interaction poignant. Our beautiful rich white daddy protagonist gets up before the sun rises to observe the world from his very expensive glass condo, and though his life is luscious and luxurious, he feels a creeping sense of dread. A comet is a bad omen, etc. Then he scrubs up and goes to work doing [I kid you not] brain surgery with his beautiful, beautiful white hands.
That's the plot, man. He just drifts through the Bush years in ... London? Toronto? Somewhere where 9/11 felt ever-present but British Standard English makes us spell out "colour."
It feels indulgent and slow because that's what the world before smart phones and YouTube and social media felt like. I've been taught in soooooo many classes that this pacing, slow as molasses, and lack of cause&effect narrative, makes this Bad Writing. But why is it so gorgeous, then?! This was written by a person who had not yet scrolled through feeds on a touch screen for hundreds of lost hours. Before the impulse to look at a phone was ingrained. This was written by a somnambulist writer who daydreams through life. Writing classes be damned, this is refreshing!
Of course there are stark moments of prescience: Characters are burned out from too much news, but they choose to TURN ON A TV to get this news, and know they can look away. They read the morning paper (bless!), and choose when to fold it up and stop. While cooking, surgeon daddy Henry thinks about getting a CD to listen to from upstairs, but decides against it -- no single CD, no music played. Can you remember when your life was like that, when you didn't have a smart watch or phone or other device on your body at all times? When you had to walk into a different room or even building to pick up one single album, and if you didn't you simply did not listen to music?!?! We were already overwhelmed 15 years ago and all of us, all of us are shattered and overwhelmed and exhausted now, all the time, without ceasing.
This floored me, Henry observing a protest against the invasion of Iraq: "Not In My Name goes past a dozen times. Its cloying self-regard suggests a bright new world of protest, with the fussy consumers of shampoo or soft drinks demanding to feel good, or nice." Wow oh wow does that ever predict performative social media posts and ALSO using social media to call out brands for both corporate monstrosity as well as demanding more immediate or satisfying customer service. (I have been guilty of all of the above + more in the past decade-and-a-half.)
I have LOTS to say, much of it dripping with contempt, about Henry's slender, pretty, and stylish Elite Poetess Daughter, who got a profitable book deal for POETRY even in the year 2003. (Nope.) He knows she's just well-connected because her grandfather is a Famous Living Poet, and all of them talk about Dead White Guys together. This thin white woman has read the cannon and doesn't care that there isn't a blessed POC or not-cis-man represented at all! YIKES YIKES YIKES but also, potentially, a scathing critique of The Cannon and boy oh boy did the Year 2020 finally offer some new perspective on the Dead White Guy Lit Syllabus. I wonder if Daisy (of course the Legacy Poetess With Edgy Haircut is named Daisy!) has an academic job or tenure or a book deal in 2023. I imagine she signed or even drafted a bunch of Open Letters saying everyone is too uptight and male profs should be able to sexually harass female undergrads for ACADEMIC FREEDOM circa 2018 or whatever. I think Daisy performed very, very poorly on Twitter.
Honestly, even the twerpy Rich Legacy Artist kids do a good job of foreshadowing what was to come in the years following 2005. It's been worthwhile reading this, for all its narrator's faults and blind spots.
*Set 15 years ago, and already our world is unrecognizable! But the novel was, at least, written in the time frame the author lived in.
This was set in 2003 and published in 2005, very much in the shadow of 9/11 and the "War on Terror." I knew I was in for a book that was light on plot and this is all vibes, baby! Every object is sacred and gorgeous, every moment and minor interaction poignant. Our beautiful rich white daddy protagonist gets up before the sun rises to observe the world from his very expensive glass condo, and though his life is luscious and luxurious, he feels a creeping sense of dread. A comet is a bad omen, etc. Then he scrubs up and goes to work doing [I kid you not] brain surgery with his beautiful, beautiful white hands.
That's the plot, man. He just drifts through the Bush years in ... London? Toronto? Somewhere where 9/11 felt ever-present but British Standard English makes us spell out "colour."
It feels indulgent and slow because that's what the world before smart phones and YouTube and social media felt like. I've been taught in soooooo many classes that this pacing, slow as molasses, and lack of cause&effect narrative, makes this Bad Writing. But why is it so gorgeous, then?! This was written by a person who had not yet scrolled through feeds on a touch screen for hundreds of lost hours. Before the impulse to look at a phone was ingrained. This was written by a somnambulist writer who daydreams through life. Writing classes be damned, this is refreshing!
Of course there are stark moments of prescience: Characters are burned out from too much news, but they choose to TURN ON A TV to get this news, and know they can look away. They read the morning paper (bless!), and choose when to fold it up and stop. While cooking, surgeon daddy Henry thinks about getting a CD to listen to from upstairs, but decides against it -- no single CD, no music played. Can you remember when your life was like that, when you didn't have a smart watch or phone or other device on your body at all times? When you had to walk into a different room or even building to pick up one single album, and if you didn't you simply did not listen to music?!?! We were already overwhelmed 15 years ago and all of us, all of us are shattered and overwhelmed and exhausted now, all the time, without ceasing.
This floored me, Henry observing a protest against the invasion of Iraq: "Not In My Name goes past a dozen times. Its cloying self-regard suggests a bright new world of protest, with the fussy consumers of shampoo or soft drinks demanding to feel good, or nice." Wow oh wow does that ever predict performative social media posts and ALSO using social media to call out brands for both corporate monstrosity as well as demanding more immediate or satisfying customer service. (I have been guilty of all of the above + more in the past decade-and-a-half.)
I have LOTS to say, much of it dripping with contempt, about Henry's slender, pretty, and stylish Elite Poetess Daughter, who got a profitable book deal for POETRY even in the year 2003. (Nope.) He knows she's just well-connected because her grandfather is a Famous Living Poet, and all of them talk about Dead White Guys together. This thin white woman has read the cannon and doesn't care that there isn't a blessed POC or not-cis-man represented at all! YIKES YIKES YIKES but also, potentially, a scathing critique of The Cannon and boy oh boy did the Year 2020 finally offer some new perspective on the Dead White Guy Lit Syllabus. I wonder if Daisy (of course the Legacy Poetess With Edgy Haircut is named Daisy!) has an academic job or tenure or a book deal in 2023. I imagine she signed or even drafted a bunch of Open Letters saying everyone is too uptight and male profs should be able to sexually harass female undergrads for ACADEMIC FREEDOM circa 2018 or whatever. I think Daisy performed very, very poorly on Twitter.
Honestly, even the twerpy Rich Legacy Artist kids do a good job of foreshadowing what was to come in the years following 2005. It's been worthwhile reading this, for all its narrator's faults and blind spots.
Coming back to give my hater review of this book. 2nd worst book I read all year which is wild since Atonement by the same author was a huge favorite of mine when I read it in hs. Absolute snore fest of immediately post-9/11 fear mongering malarkey; if this book has no haters I am dead
“When anything can happen, nothing much matters.”
This is the first time I’ve read a story that entirely takes place over the course of just one day. McEwan details his protagonist’s Saturday, from the intriguing to the banal, with a loving attention to detail that mimics our own internal monologues brilliantly.
Poignant, heart-warming, and sometimes suspenseful, Saturday was a delight.
This is the first time I’ve read a story that entirely takes place over the course of just one day. McEwan details his protagonist’s Saturday, from the intriguing to the banal, with a loving attention to detail that mimics our own internal monologues brilliantly.
Poignant, heart-warming, and sometimes suspenseful, Saturday was a delight.