His wife, Alissa, whom he met in 1977 after enrolling in her German language class, abandons him and their 7-month-old son because, as she puts it (with shades of Doris Lessing), motherhood “would’ve sunk me” and kept her from becoming “the greatest novelist of her generation.” Young Roland’s relationship with his teacher progresses in unsettling ways, but an equally disfiguring scar appears later. “This was insomniac memory, not a dream,” Roland says of his adult recollections of those days, among them the time she pinched his bare thigh after he made a mistake while performing a piece from Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier, leaving a “secret oval mark.” His parents, a tough-love father who was an infantryman in Scotland and a mother who betrayed her first husband, have sent him 2,000 miles away from their home in North Africa to attend boarding school in England.Īmong Roland’s formative experiences are the overtures, musical as well as physical, of a piano teacher in her 20s. At the start of the novel, it’s the late 1950s, when Roland is n 11. The life at the center of this exceptional work is that of Roland Baines. This is just the sort of material that Ian McEwan-that eloquent virtuoso at mining life’s barbarities-likes to exploit for narrative effect, and he does so yet again in Lessons, a scathing novel about the ways brutality, intentional or otherwise, can shape a life.
One doesn’t have to look hard to find repeated patterns that can cause lingering trauma, from interpersonal cruelties to larger events such as wars and other human-made disasters.
Some people never learn, or so history would suggest.
0 kommentar(er)
