I’m always slightly anxious about sharing my views on books, but this is my blog, so I can say what I please.

After a very sporadic read-through, and one late-night movie adventure with Grace, I can finally write about something bookish and current.

I had never read Ian McEwan before reading Atonement and, I must admit, I never knew about him before Amazon sent me the trailer back in July (one of those, “If you like Pride and Prejudice, you’ll love enter name of amazing Amazonian recommendation here“). But, after so many young adult books, children’s novels, and Victorian lit, I owed it to myself to finally read something contemporary and intended for my age group.

With the movie out, and the movie tie-ins piled up in every bookstore (never read tie-ins), most readers have some idea what this story is about. At its most basic, the plot could almost be confused for a Miss Marple:

English manor house in 1935. Dinner party in the works. Hot summer day. Guests arrive. Everyone has an agenda, even the children. A crime occurs, and the only witness is a thirteen year old girl who likes to make up stories.

What really makes this story so enthralling are the shifts from one perspective to another and the manner in which the story is divided. Told in four parts by a third person narrator, the first part gives you all the details that you need to get into Briony’s head and understand why she makes her confession(s). Everything that happens during that first part, 175 pages describing one day, is essential to the rest of the story… down to the mole on Cecilia’s back.

Because of the shifting focalization, I had my doubts about the movie adaptation. You usually expect movies based on books to fall short, and when an author chooses to write from different points of view, purists like myself tend to cringe at the thought of adaptation. That’s why I started bouncing in my seat when the story shifted back upon itself. When Briony closed that window and it shifted to Cecilia, I knew this was going to be one of those rare instances where the movie is almost as good as the book. There were changes, of course, but they didn’t take away from the story. In the novel, the confession(s) ends differently — the movie simplifies the ending, but something had to be lost when adapting a book that relies so heavily on the reader’s ability to pick up on seemingly insignificant character traits.