On Chesil Beach is a short story about one young couple’s disastrous wedding night. It is the 1960s in England, and Edward and Florence have just tied the knot. In their honeymoon hotel room they’re both nervous, but for very different reasons.
I didn’t find the story entirely believable, especially for the time period. I couldn’t imagine a young couple not talking about any of these things, or even recognizing that there might be a problem! They also didn’t seem to really know each other as intimately as a couple in such a situation should. I had a hard time sympathizing as I was kind of irritated with the absurd level of non-communication.

Second McEwan.
Once again, prose is genius
But his endings suck.