Blogging at 7 am because, well, why not when you have a wife in pain in bed and a daughter not in pain and very, very much out of bed.
I thought I was done with McEwan, but then the Shaw Library presented me with Black Dogs (my mom's favourite McEwan as far as I can recall) and I just grabbed it. And it simply reconfirmed my thoughts about the author: I've simply read way too many of his books.
Black Dogs is flawlessly written, like all of McEwan's books, but I cared so little about the post-war love story between its two main characters that for me it overshadowed the unusual setting of the novel (unusual in the historical era depicted, not that the French countryside is an unusual literary setting).
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