The thing about this book is, the actual plot isn’t all that earth-shattering—but with McEwan holding the pen, it becomes a story that you can. not. stop. reading. until you finish the last page. This book takes place inside the womb of Trudy, who has separated from her husband, John, to live with his brother, Claude. As if that weren’t complicated enough, she’s pregnant with John’s son, who is the narrator of the story. As this unborn boy goes through the final stages of development, he participates in everything his mother does: sunbathing...eating Indian takeout...plotting the murder of her estranged husband with her lover and brother-in-law. Yikes.
What struck me most as I read the conversations the baby overheard from inside his mother—the unceasing new stories detailing the atrocities of the outside world at large, and then the scheming of his relatives plotting his own father’s demise—it struck me that mankind still refuses to enact the one lifestyle choice that could actually make this broken world better: kindness. Everyone has wicked thoughts at times, but if one chooses to push those aside and treat others with kindness, that corner of the world will be the better for it. And if everyone does this, all the corners of the world will be the better for it!
Idealistic, I know. But after reading this story of an unborn baby having to watch, powerless, as his mother and uncle plot evil, I WANT that idealistic world for that baby, and for all the other sons and daughters that will be born. If there’s anything worth being idealistic about, it’s the future of mankind’s babies.