Ian McEwan - "Saturday"

This is the first McEwan I've ever read - yes, I know, shame on me - and I thought it was very good indeed. The clever part, obviously, is his ability to create a world that draws the reader in with just enough universal reference points, while twisting it to a unique perspective - in this case, that of a neurosurgeon. Now as most of my medical knowledge has been acquired from television, I've no idea if a neurosurgeon really does see the world in this way or not. The important thing is that McEwan makes it seem plausible that he would. In the same way that he makes what is, frankly, an utterly preposterous plot seem plausible. The characters are pretty well done too, with possibly the exception of Perowne's wife - too fuzzy - and the mad poet grandfather with a chateau in France (I didn't buy him for a minute). One criticism I have is that the whole thing runs out of steam a bit towards the end. He does a marvellous job of setting the scene and building the tension but, even though the events, particularly the hostage scene, are pretty dramatic, I found myself saying "Oooh, is that it, then?". Baxter, the villain of the piece, also has a touch of caricature about him, a little too much Eastenders, if you see what I mean. That said, I thoroughly enjoyed it and raced through the thing (NO, I haven't been reading it since my last post in September 2006, arf!). Plus, thanks to the thoughtful Mr. McEwan, you can actually follow the recipe for bouillabaise-stylee fish stew that Henry makes in the book. What next, teach yourself neurosurgery? :-)