Atonement: A Book Review        
Katherine Dunn

On the hottest day of the summer in 1935, Briony Tallis, thirteen year old daughter of the well established Tallis family, sees a scene from an upper story window which she cannot possibly understand. Tightly wound Cecilia, who has returned for the summer from Cambridge has, out of a sense of family duty and unresolved emotions, stripped off her clothes and plunged into the family fountain, in pursuit of a shard of an expensive vase. Watching her is Robbie Turner, childhood friend, fellow graduate, and son of the cleaning lady. 

This event forms the starting point of Ian McEwan’s acclaimed novel Atonement. The book provided a basis for the film of the same name, starring Keira Knightley, which received a nomination for best picture at this year’s Academy Awards.

The tension that unfolds between Cecilia and Robbie sets the novel’s most compelling scenes in motion, but the real drama evolves from a sin committed by Briony. Under her precocious (and meddling) gaze, the novel turns from lover’s fable to an exploration of class, love, blame, and – of course – atonement.

While the novel evolves to evoke rich historical accounts of war - the strict London hospitals where Briony treats the wounds of traumatized soldiers; the desperate, corpse-lined road to Dunkirk along which Robbie stumbles – the scene by the fountain resonates until the last pages.

Briony is a compelling and unnerving character who grasps her own power with naivety, but is painfully unaware of its consequences. She is revealed as a young girl who lines up her toy animals in militant rows, has a passion for secrets, and is quick to interfere with the lives of adults in order to satisfy her own imagination.

McEwan excels at presenting small moments of clarity, scenes that present the familiar alongside a distant historical backdrop. In one instance, Briony carefully considers an outstretched finger, examining her control over its movement, contemplating the childhood mysteries that greet us like old friends in moments of quiet reflection; “The mystery was in the instant before it moved, the dividing moment between moving and not moving, when her intention took effect. It was like a wave breaking.” 

As she contemplates this, the unimaginable complexity of a world in which everyone has an inner self engulfs her and readers are confronted with a young girl who desperately wants to impose her childish sense of order upon a world beyond her control. McEwan carries this realization of Briony throughout the novel, allowing her confusion to create an underlying sense of ambiguity, an outcome open for interpretation, a verdict not cut and dry.