It started off a bit slow, but once the dramas began to unfold, they really drew me in and about mid-way through I started to find it harder and harder to put this book down. Definitely recommended reading.

This book was too slow and uneventful for me. The series of events that does happen is supposed to have all sorts of drama and meaning and a deep impact on the people’s lives, but it just wasn’t enough for me. Although the events would certainly be upsetting and life changing, the effects were pretty expected and self-explanatory so the long ramblings on the subject weren’t of that much interest to me.

I don’t know why I’ve put off reading any of his books for so long… I know I was very tempted to pick up Amsterdam and even this one, Saturday a number of times… but never did.

Like I was afraid I was going to be allergic to it. Or maybe it was that Booker thing… Or maybe his picture had always frightened me (true, sort of… I hadn’t really thought of it until I wrote that just now—I suppose his jacket picture does scare me a bit… go figure).

But I’ve done it. And my face hasn’t swollen like a potato. Nor have my breathing passages been cut off. No hives. Nothing.

And damn, what a great writer. Saturday was an excellent read… stuck in this neurosurgeon’s head you feel slightly claustrophobic, and I couldn’t help but feel the urge to look forward with a sense of dread… just from reading the jacket you knew something bad was going to happen, and it seemed to loom just around the corner, and you were stuck in his head, wanting to scream out, “Hey! Man! Look out! Don’t… umm… listen, just go pick up your wife at the office and go out for dinner or something!” But you can’t, because it’s a book, and you’re not actually in anyone’s head, nor are you capable of warning them.

And Mr. McEwan keeps up the pace throughout the book, navigates through the tricky uneven cobblestones of the narrative he’s come up with without missing a beat… it’s a great, engaging read.

The typical McEwan writing that is meant to get under your skin; added this time is a sense of trying to capture the totality of a man’s thoughts and observation over the course of a day. The set-pieces are thrilling to be sure but it’s the interstices that aren’t convincing. I preferred Atonement and Amsterdam, the inevitable sense of dread was more visceral. Maybe it’s a question of empathy (or lack thereof in the novel)... also the war/terrorism motifs and the personal terror that is faced somehow don’t grip… A good novel but not his best.