Book Review: What We Can Know by Ian McEwan
I’ll admit, the title What We Can Know intrigued me from the moment I first heard about it. Ian McEwan’s ability to weave complex themes and human emotions has always drawn me in. So when the chance to read an early copy from NetGalley and Vintage Publishing came my way, I jumped at it, eager to explore what insights he would offer about our precarious future.
From the outset, McEwan sets the stage with themes that feel both timely and timeless. He poses profound questions about the reliability of biographies and historical accounts, which resonate deeply in a world where narratives often clash. The other heavy anchor of the narrative—warnings about future climate and nuclear disasters—grounds the story in a stark reality that feels eerily plausible, especially given the current state of global affairs. The dystopian backdrop captures my imagination, but I found myself wishing for a more seamless delivery of the world-building.
Part One of the novel, narrated by Tom Metcalfe, felt a tad slow for my taste. While I appreciated McEwan’s smooth prose, it became apparent that the intricate details of this future were presented primarily via long lists—climate events, political upheavals, and societal shifts. Admittedly, much of this information comes from Tom’s perspective as an isolated historian, which made perfect sense within the narrative. Still, I found myself yearning for a more organic way to absorb this world, one that would allow me to draw insights along with Tom rather than simply being told about them.
Tom’s character brought his own set of complexities. Through his obsession with the past, I, too, was drawn to the future—pondering all that could be lost and all that could be saved. However, there remained a distance from Tom, which prevented me from fully engaging with his emotional journey and that of Rose, his colleague and lover. I didn’t quite feel that spark of connection, though I appreciated the richness of the themes exploring memory and perspective.
As I reached Part Two—around the 60% mark—I found the narrative picking up momentum, drawing me in deeply. Vivien, whose arc contrasts sharply with Tom’s, became a vivid character who engaged me in ways Tom did not. Her story captivated me, especially with the tension surrounding her relationship with Percy. The revelation of Percy’s death felt both shocking and satisfying, not simply because of the event itself, but because of the way McEwan masterfully wove clues into the early chapters. McEwan’s skill in creating tension and intrigue shone through, especially in Vivien’s emotionally charged scenes, like her poignant recollection of Diana’s death or her riveting encounter at the station.
In What We Can Know, McEwan invites readers not just to reflect on the characters’ lives but to confront our modern perspectives. The narrative attunes us to the fragility of memory and the ways information—and, by extension, history—can be manipulated or omitted. This resonates personally with me, as I often grapple with the overwhelming weight of memory and the stories we choose to tell.
Overall, this book will undoubtedly leave a mark, challenging readers to confront their fears and hopes for the future. Fans of thought-provoking dystopian fiction, especially those attuned to themes of climate change and human connection, will find much to engage with here. In the end, What We Can Know isn’t just a tale about a future we may face but a reflection on the stories we create, shaping our understanding of ourselves and the world. It’s a compelling read that I know I’ll be mulling over for quite some time!