I remember the old times, when reading McEwan (to me) meant reading stories
of privileged beautiful people and how they would be able to overcome whatever
obstacle they encountered and return to their posh lives before the end of the
novel. As Bob Dylan used to sing,
however, The Times They’re a-Changin’
The Cement Garden is an absolutely great read. And weird. And
disturbing. I wouldn’t even know how to classify it: it’s not a horror novel,
or at least I don’t think so, yet it does give you goose bumps in so many ways.
Its effect on me was similar to that of Doris Lessing’s The Fifth Child or Beryl Bainbridge’s Harriet Said... And much like those books, it’s not something that
I would particularly encourage my pregnant wife to read.
And yes, my wife is pregnant. And this is also kind of a test to see how
many (if any) of my real-life friends actually read this little blog…
