I often find myself surprised by how prolific a writer is Ian McEwan. And the more I read of his recent works, the more I am attracted to his more macabre past.
The Comfort of Strangers is bold, as it is ultimately a short novel about a death in Venice, but I believe Thomas Mann might have previously written something along those lines.
Yet this Venice somehow appears even more plagued and insalubrious than Mann's, and despite knowing from the start that it's going to end badly, the reader is left caring for the main characters hoping that they make it out of their twisted predicament (though, as per the spoiler in the previous sentence, that doesn't quite happen).
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