Set in London on February 15, 2003, when millions gathered to protest the Iraq war, Ian McEwan’s Saturday is entirely in the present tense. Henry Perowne, 48, springs out of bed at 4 a.m. so effortlessly that one can’t help but be filled with foreboding. Sure enough, within pages, Perowne is watching a flaming jet descend over London, particularly terrifying in… return to article
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Reader Comments (1)Page 1 of 1 pagesIsn’t anyone upset that Perowne takes his inner life and creature comforts to be as important, maybe more important, than the plight of the world? How can anyone be at peace with themselves when there’s no peace in the world? The personal is political, therefore, the individual is communal. Surely there are enough drugs in the world for everyone to annihilate their egos. One world, one mind, one party. One thing that always bothers me is that when children starve to death their stomach get so big, I think when people see these images they believe these children are really very full. They’re starving people! They’re starving!
Posted by Philibert Golightly on May 11, 2005 at 3:41 PM Page 1 of 1 pages -
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