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As always with McEwan, I put this book down with mixed feelings. For some unknown reason, maybe strictly for his original plots, I keep coming back to his books. But too often does he drown his admittedly original stories in needless prose that is so goddamn distracting.
Nutshell was so ridiculous that it worked. I genuinely laughed out loud at certain moments, due to it’s absolute absurdity, and yet it was still somehow suspenseful, rich in character, and vivid.
The prose was, however long-winded, magnificent. I highlighted half the book just to turn the language back over in my head. There’s no denying McEwan writes with the skill and practice of a master—just often too much so. And while many of the opinions of our unborn protagonist don’t match my own, I get the metaphor here. We’ll just have to agree to disagree.
Nutshell was so ridiculous that it worked. I genuinely laughed out loud at certain moments, due to it’s absolute absurdity, and yet it was still somehow suspenseful, rich in character, and vivid.
The prose was, however long-winded, magnificent. I highlighted half the book just to turn the language back over in my head. There’s no denying McEwan writes with the skill and practice of a master—just often too much so. And while many of the opinions of our unborn protagonist don’t match my own, I get the metaphor here. We’ll just have to agree to disagree.