'Lovers and their happy endings have been on my mind all night long. It is only in this last version that my lovers end well, standing side by side on a South London pavement as I walk away. All the preceding drafts were pitiless. But now I can no longer think what purpose would be served if, say, I tried to persuade my reader, by direct or indirect means, that Robbie Turner died of septicaemia at Bray Dunes on 1 June 1940, or that Cecilia was killed in September of the same year by the bomb that destroyed Balham Underground station. That I never saw them in that year as I claimed I did in this last version.
How could that constitute an ending? What sense of hope or satisfaction could a reader draw from such an account? Who would want to believe that? I couldn't do it to them. When I am dead and my novel is finally published, the stories of Robbie and Cecilia will only exist as my inventions. Briony will be as much of a fantasy as much as the lovers. No one will care about events and which individuals were misrepresented to make a novel. I know there's a certain kind of reader who will ask "But what really happened?" The answer is simple- the lovers survive and flourish. As long as there is a single copy of my final draft, then my sister and her prince survive to love. But this is the problem: How can I, as the novelist, achieve atonement, with my absolute power of deciding outcomes, I am also God? There is no one, no entity or higher form that I can appeal to, or be reconciled with, or that can forgive me. In my imagination, I have set my limits and the terms.'
-Atonement by Ian McEwan
Many authors use this device till it has become quite commonplace but I loved how Ian McEwan utilized it. The device being the author writing about an author writing about a story, to put it bluntly (in a linguistically crude manner). It wouldn't have changed the process of enjoying the read if you did not realize that the book was from written from Briony's perspective (even Robbie Turner and Cecelia Tallis' perspectives were 'written' by her).
Struggle for Meaning was a brilliant topic. It makes you really think about MEANING which is so vague but impacts your making sense of the world around you. Authorial presence is quite alive in Atonement. You can tell that Briony's perspectives on writing actually bring in McEwan's voice. The above passage questions authorial integrity here though. Fiction allows the the author space to manoeuvre his/her imagination in all possible directions (I shun sci-fi though, oops) and rely on the lazy excuse that 'The events and characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental....', and the mindset that fiction is harmless. Do we take fiction as simply fiction? I think not. I think lies that may be portrayed logically will unconsciously impact our worldview. (*cough* Dan Brown *cough*)
Hmm... maybe I should read McEwan's other books. But I find that when one reads the most critically acclaimed book, the others don't quite match up and you're left with a less sweet aftertaste of the experience with your first love. (I'm still referring to the book here). Like your admiration for the author is somewhat diluted.
This does not apply to Milan Kundera. His books are consistent and never fail to make me view life in a different manner. He draws on what I am cognizant of (the everyday), and articulates what I cannot, or have yet to,express. But sometimes the storyline tends to drag on between the short bursts of genius. Still, they provide a circumstance in which the articulation of ideas are at their most lucid.
Library later?
On an absolutely random note:
'The Persistence of Memory' by Salvador Dali (1904-1989, surrealist painter)
Matt Groening naturally.
I couldn't resist. Post modernism (:
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