Chesil Beach- Ian McEwan

Edward Mayhew and Florence Ponting have only been married for eight hours but unlike those who usually consummate their marriage with plenty of intimacy acts, they struggle to subdue their private fears of the wedding night to come. Ian McEwan sharpens a first-rate subtlety and force to unfold an event packed with intense psychological struggle and heaviness of silence. What is not spoken, implied in between the lines, what dread and impatience, what cluttered thoughts these are all signs of the couple’s faltering journey to a point of no return.

Why these lovers of modern age are so timid and innocent is a mystery, but that they were raised in a way to not feel the broth of emotions might ring the truth about their fears. Florence’s mother never shows her any affection, let alone an embrace, a hug or precious time together. Edward grows up in a protected state of innocence by the absence of the term that identifies his mother’s condition she is brain-damaged. The label dissolves intimacy and measures his mother with a public standard. With so much burden on their back, Florence and Edward are somewhat emotionally impaired to cope with the marriage.

Despite some graphic nature in a page or two, the novella is not about sex. Nor is it about sexual tension. Sex is only the medium with which McEwan plays out the extreme and awful consequence of two people’s intrinsic difference in the scope of love. How often are we wrapped up in our ego and fear that have we been more open and patient we can save a relationship? How often do we take understanding for granted out of wishful thinking? How often do we miss the opportunity to change by doing nothing? The book cognizantly exposes how, in relationship, one is often fettered by his being inexperienced of the other’s thoughts and needs.