by Ian McEwan
Warning: Contains spoilers if you have not read the book.
Initially, I found the climax a bit of what we call here 'like a Hindi film' - meaning implausible and artificial, even if cleverly constructed. However, when I thought more about it, I found the construction very touching. Throughout the book, Henry Perowne struggles with the 'for or against the war in Iraq' question: he can not side with the pacifists picnicking, obstructing normal life and creating mounds of litter in London, which he thinks is an affront to people who have suffered from Saddam's regime, like his Sumerian professor patient. On the other hand, the argument for war by his American anaesthetist drives him to argue against it, like the pacifists. When he sees the burning plane, his first instinct is that it's an attack on his civilization, but he knows he was being paranoid when he realizes, after it becomes clear that the pilots were not terrorists, that instead of feeling relieved, he almost feels cheated, since he subconsciously wanted them to be revealed as aggressors, thus justifying the war against Islam. However, another question keeps haunting Perowne like a sub-theme - whether he was right in saving himself from the situation with Baxter by hitting him on his weak point - the disease that killed his father, and which would kill him, and the knowledge of which makes Baxter insecure. This is a personal version of the same dilemma - whether aggression makes Islamic fundamentalism stronger or weaker, and whether it would liberate the insecure inhabitants of the Islamic world, made insecure by seeing in decline what they have inherited as their tradition, or whether it would make them more aggressive by making them more insecure. By hitting Baxter at the end when he is under the spell of poetry, Perowne has done it once again, but it is his daughter this time, with a hint from her poet grandfather, (whom he dislikes and finds nothing in common with, no empathy even) who shows him the correct way, which is to try to save Baxter with all honesty and compassion. It's the only way to deal with aggression. In that sense, the assault on his family is like a 9/11 for the Perownes, and the melodrama is necessary for Perowne to come to terms with his own dilemma and reach a decision that, after all, liberates him from his fears. The whole device (for it is a literary device) of having the daughter naked, pregnant and reciting poetry works as a metaphor for whatever is worthwhile in human civilization, which, although it appears faint-hearted and weak, is the only 'valid' way to counter Baxter, Saddam and fanaticism in general. That is exactly what Gandhi meant when he rejected violence as the means of the struggle for independence - defeat the enemy with what you are, which can only make you stronger and freer.
A link quoting the Mathew Arnold poem that Daisy reads to Baxter:
http://liternet.bg/publish/denny/dov_bea.html
Initially, I found the climax a bit of what we call here 'like a Hindi film' - meaning implausible and artificial, even if cleverly constructed. However, when I thought more about it, I found the construction very touching. Throughout the book, Henry Perowne struggles with the 'for or against the war in Iraq' question: he can not side with the pacifists picnicking, obstructing normal life and creating mounds of litter in London, which he thinks is an affront to people who have suffered from Saddam's regime, like his Sumerian professor patient. On the other hand, the argument for war by his American anaesthetist drives him to argue against it, like the pacifists. When he sees the burning plane, his first instinct is that it's an attack on his civilization, but he knows he was being paranoid when he realizes, after it becomes clear that the pilots were not terrorists, that instead of feeling relieved, he almost feels cheated, since he subconsciously wanted them to be revealed as aggressors, thus justifying the war against Islam. However, another question keeps haunting Perowne like a sub-theme - whether he was right in saving himself from the situation with Baxter by hitting him on his weak point - the disease that killed his father, and which would kill him, and the knowledge of which makes Baxter insecure. This is a personal version of the same dilemma - whether aggression makes Islamic fundamentalism stronger or weaker, and whether it would liberate the insecure inhabitants of the Islamic world, made insecure by seeing in decline what they have inherited as their tradition, or whether it would make them more aggressive by making them more insecure. By hitting Baxter at the end when he is under the spell of poetry, Perowne has done it once again, but it is his daughter this time, with a hint from her poet grandfather, (whom he dislikes and finds nothing in common with, no empathy even) who shows him the correct way, which is to try to save Baxter with all honesty and compassion. It's the only way to deal with aggression. In that sense, the assault on his family is like a 9/11 for the Perownes, and the melodrama is necessary for Perowne to come to terms with his own dilemma and reach a decision that, after all, liberates him from his fears. The whole device (for it is a literary device) of having the daughter naked, pregnant and reciting poetry works as a metaphor for whatever is worthwhile in human civilization, which, although it appears faint-hearted and weak, is the only 'valid' way to counter Baxter, Saddam and fanaticism in general. That is exactly what Gandhi meant when he rejected violence as the means of the struggle for independence - defeat the enemy with what you are, which can only make you stronger and freer.
A link quoting the Mathew Arnold poem that Daisy reads to Baxter:
http://liternet.bg/publish/denny/dov_bea.html
