Lessons by Ian McEwan: A review

Lessons, both learned and missed, are the foundations of life and history. In his latest book, Ian McEwan explores those foundations through the life story of his protagonist, Roland Baines. The story takes place during the mid-to-late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries in England. It is a long book, close to 500 pages and it is deserving of a thoughtful read.

We meet Roland as a child. His father is in the army, stationed in Libya. Roland is sent 2,000 miles away from his family to an English boarding school. There he has "lessons" with piano teacher Miss Miriam Cornell, but the lessons aren't only about the piano. Not to put too fine a point on it, Miss Miriam seduces her vulnerable young student. The affair, if we can dare call it that, scarred Roland for life.

Fast forward to April 1986 and we find the grown-up Roland married to Alissa. They have a seven-month-old son named Lawrence. As the novel begins, Alissa has just left Roland and her son. There was no warning or explanation and just like that Roland finds himself to be the sole carer for Lawrence.

Roland's and Lawrence's story is essentially the story of European history from the mid-twentieth century to the present. We get the aftermath of World War II and the Cold War, the Cuban missile crisis, the Berlin Wall's rise and fall, Chernobyl, 9/11, Brexit, and on and on right up to our current pandemic.

McEwan shows us the societal norms and culture of each period in that entire era. His great talent as a writer is the ability to depict the utter humanity of his characters, both their strengths and weaknesses, as they attempt to make sense of things and to live their lives in the best way they can. We can see how each action, each decision they make along the way leads inevitably to the next event.

Reading this book really brought home to me what a rich and colorful period of history Roland and I have lived through. Roland was haunted by the missed opportunities of his life, as many of us probably are. We seek to console ourselves in various ways but the ultimate question is, can we actually control the course of our lives? Or are we, in fact, simply riders of the storm, tossed whichever way the wind blows us? And in the end, does it really matter? Can we, in fact, learn from the "lessons" of our lives?

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

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