“I like to think that it isn’t weakness or evasion, but a final act of kindness, a stand against oblivion and despair, to let my lovers live and to unite them at the end." (351)

What has always mystified me about the end of the novel is why, if Briony was so desperately seeking atonement, she decided not to tell the truth at the end of her novel and instead invented a fairy-tale happy ending for Robbie and Cecilia instead of the reality of their untimely deaths. If she wished to truly tell the story of their lives, expose her injustices and the injustices of others, she should have simply told the truth. A novel that ends in utter tragedy (much like the true end of Atonement) would be much more shocking than one that ends in happiness. In addition, the religious connotations of the word “atonement” seem to imply an element of confession, admittance to the truth of one’s sins and an attempt to resolve it. Is Briony perhaps doing a disservice to the tragic story of Robbie and Cecilia by not truthfully telling their story to the world?

Briony addresses the issue of her false ending in the very last passage of the novel, “I like to think that it isn’t weakness or evasion, but a final act of kindness, a stand against oblivion and despair, to let my lovers live and to unite them at the end. I gave them happiness, but I was not so self-serving as to let them forgive me” (351). In her novel, she gave Robbie and Cecilia the happy-ending they weren’t able to have in life, however, even in this fictional account, Briony would not have her characters forgive her and give her the atonement she so desperately needs.

Us, as readers of McEwan's novel, get the "true" version of the story. However, the readers of Briony's novel only get her version. I wonder how her readers will take this ending. It's not entirely satisfying, however, it's much happier than McEwan's ending. Would her readers ever find out the "true" story? In the movie Briony does a TV interview in which she states the truth, however, in the novel there is nothing like this. It is possible that her readers, if they were so inclined, could research Robbie and Cecilia, perhaps finding their letters on display in the museum. This would take a lot of effort, however, so it is possible that the readers would simply assume that the two lovers had lived, together, in happiness. In addition, would Briony's family have gone on believing that Robbie was a maniacal rapist? What about his mother? In her heart she would have known that Robbie was innocent, but is it right for Briony to let her go through her life with her son's name disgraced, even after his untimely hero's death on the beach on the final day of evacuation?

I will admit that I do agree with Briony in that this fictional, romanticized version of the story is a lot more palatable than McEwan’s realistic, though heartbreakingly tragic one. It is so much easier to pretend that Robbie lived through that very last night at Bray Dunes, boarded the ships, and made it back to a waiting Cecilia in time for the final scene of Briony’s novel - finally being able to have the time together they so yearned for and so deserved. It’s not true, but it’s much easier to accept than reality.

“It was always an impossible task, and that was precisely the point. The attempt was all” (351).

“The problem these fifty-nine years has been this: how can a novelist achieve atonement when, with her absolute power of deciding outcomes, she is also God? There is no one, no entity or higher form that she can appeal to, or be reconciled with, or that can forgive her. There is nothing outside her. In her imagination she has set the limits and the terms. No atonement for God, or novelists, even if they are atheists. It was always an impossible task, and that was precisely the point. The attempt was all” (350-351).

This passage, appearing on the last pages of the novel, has always been interesting to me. It is possibly the only direct reference to the title of the book, and appears in the few pages that are not "written" by thee author Briony. McEwan shows how Briony is driven and absolutely consumed by her guilt, so the idea of atonement, or reconciliation for her sins is definitely something of high importance to her. 


The dictionary definition of atonement is the “Reparation for a wrong or injury,” and perhaps in finally telling the truth about the series of events that a younger version of herself set into motion with a lie, she hoped to make some sort of amends. However, as both Robbie and Cecilia had passed away without ever having seen each other again, true atonement for Briony was simply not possible. As she says, “It was always an impossible task, and that was precisely the point. The attempt was all” (351).

The word "Essay" or "Essai" in french, is derived from the french verb Essayer or "to try." I have always loved turning to the etymology of this word, because it reminds me that an "essay" is simply an attempt - it is not a definitive answer, because there are no definitive answers. This is exactly what Briony does in her novel; her quest for atonement has always been impossible, and yet she still tries to make amends for the wrong she committed all those years ago. In addition, there are several possible interpretations of the novel, and yet none of them are exactly correct. The significance is in finding this proliferation of meanings.

"Hidden drawers, lockable diaries and cryptographic systems could not conceal from Briony the simple truth: she had no secrets" (5).

In Peter Matthew's article "The Impression of a Deeper Darkness: Ian McEwan's Atonement," he analyzes the doubts brought about by the knowledge of Briony's authorship:

"The novel's most famous shift of perspective is the revelation that Briony is the author of the account in its entirety. Earl G. Ingersoll writes: "McEwan's epilogue radically subverts the reader's knowledge of not merely the 'content' of the preceding narrative but its provenance as well" (248). The reality of the characters as the reader has seen them—in both a psychological and a concrete sense—is tainted by this newly gained knowledge of Briony's authorship. How are we, as readers, to believe in the validity of the innermost thoughts and motivations of these characters when, as it turns out, they are told from the perspective of someone who has a clear interest in how we judge the story?" (https://muse.jhu.edu/journals/esc_english_studies_in_canada/v032/32.1mathews.html)

I have referenced this issue of the unreliable narrator many times before, however, the issue is most prominent in regards to the letter of rejection in the final section of Briony's novel. With the inclusion of this letter, as well as the recommended changes incorporated seamlessly into the novel, one is led to question the reality of Briony's account of the narrative:

"But to the wary reader Briony's comments should remain unsatisfactory, a narrative ruse designed to project once again, perhaps, the impression of a deeper darkness. The key piece of evidence is contained in Cyril Connolly's rejection letter to Briony for, as Pilar Hidalgo points out, it takes "a careful second reading of the novel to perceive that Connolly's corrections […] have been silently incorporated into the body of Atonement" (87). Having just read the first draft of the novel that is to become Atonement, Connolly congratulates Briony for her stylistic innovations but suggests that her story needs some deeper set of implications for its characters: "If this girl has so fully misunderstood or been so wholly baffled by the strange little scene that has unfolded before her, how might it affect the lives of the two adults? Might she come between them in some disastrous fashion?" (295). Connolly's battery of suggestions forces the reader to ask some crucial questions of their own about McEwan's text: Did Briony really commit the crime on which the entire narrative hinges? Is the novel perhaps nothing more than a complex but empty secret, designed to play on the reader's compulsion to head, like one of Emily's moths, toward the impression of a deeper darkness? There is no final answer to these questions, for McEwan hints that the novel may be nothing more than an act of concealment that the modern reader, armed with the pessimism of the modern age, is destined to interpret, without further proof, as a sign of guilt."

The entire novel follows the suggested path of the rejection letter, leading one to question the reality of the entire novel, whether or not it is just simply, "...a complex but empty secret, designed to play on the reader's compulsion to head, like one of Emily's moths, toward the impression of a deeper darkness?" In the very beginning of the novel we are told (by Briony herself) that she has a passion for secrets, however, "Hidden drawers, lockable diaries and cryptographic systems could not conceal from Briony the simple truth: she had no secrets" (5). The novel, her crime, could be the secret that Briony so yearned for. However, the inclusion of the letter calls into problem the question of the accuracy of the entire novel. It is possible that perhaps the inclusion of the letter (by Briony herself) was an intentional act, in an attempt to hide from the reader the truth of the secret, by making it seem as if there is no secret -though it is incredibly likely that I could be looking too much into this matter.

Matthews, Peter. "The Impression of a Deeper Darkness: Ian McEwan's Atonement."Project Muse. 2006. Web. 1 Dec. 2011. <https://muse.jhu.edu/journals/esc_english_studies_in_canada/v032/32.1mathews.html>.

She said the pieces had simply come away in her hand, but that was hardly to be believed" (262).

It's all about the vase.

The reason why I despise the inclusion of the rejection letter in part three so much is simply the vast amount of doubt that it inspires in the reader. In that long ago AP Literature class, we had a brief discussion on the inclusion of the letter, however, I just couldn't bring myself to go back to the beginning of the novel and see for myself whether or not the suggested revisions were done. I didn't care too much about some of them - she could simply have forgotten the name of the fountain, she could have been increasing the suspense by having Cecilia go in her underwear into the fountain, and the addition of the surrounding details were simply necessary to the progression of the story.

But the vase - that is the backbone of the entire story. By changing this, all the seams of the entire story are instantly unraveled. As Robinson states in his article, "Aporetic questions will always haunt such moments. Was the “real” vase the un-lifelike Ming? Was there a vase? If not, was there a fountain?" I'm inclined to take this a few steps further, were there even a Robbie and Cecilia? Was Lola actually attacked? Did Briony actually commit her crime? Was there even a story?!

As Robinson says, "The furniture of realism can be changed or removed at a stroke." The vase is the entire basis of the story. It was "Uncle Clem's vase" that he received during the war, risked his life to save, and then ultimately found its way to become the prized possession of the Tallis household. It is the thing that causes Robbie and Cecilia to realize their love, and eventually, it is the symbol of their ultimate destruction when Betty drops it, "She said the pieces had simply come away in her hand, but that was hardly to be believed" (262). The vase is the symbol of Robbie and Cecilia's love, it is the glue that hold the entire story together. If it can simply be changed from a "Ming" to a "more lifelike" Meissen, what else has Briony changed in the novel?

"Might she come between them in some disastrous fashion?" (302).

Briony's rejection letter is easily my least favorite part of the novel. While we don't really get to see Briony's original manuscript, from the author of the letter's description, I already despise it. It is criticized for being too much like Virginia Woolf's work - another author (like Austen) that I do not care much for. Her novels are much too long with much too little happening in them. There is too much description of how things look, how people feel, it's absolutely exhausting. Briony's first manuscript, which ends with the scene by the fountain, sounds a lot like this. In addition, there is absolutely no acknowledgement on Briony's part of what she did wrong, as the letter states, "Might she come between them in some disastrous fashion? (302). There is no acknowledgement of this at all in Briony's original manuscript, leading one to wonder why exactly she didn't include it. Was she too ashamed? Or, perhaps, did it even happen?

This rejection letter, especially the subtle inclusion of the letter's advice into the body of Briony's novel, leads the reader to seriously question the "truth" of the narrative. In Richard Robinson's article "The Modernism of Ian McEwan's Atonement" he addresses this issue:

"At the same time, however, we momentarily toy with the idea that that story has no foundational reality in Briony’s life, but actually originates in Connolly’s suggestions, including the changing of the vase (from Ming to Meissen [18]) and the piazza (from Navona to Barberini [24]). Thinking at this stage that Briony made it all up is, traditionally, an unhelpful fallback—though it will be rather useful in the long term. At the least a reminder, a proleptic warning about the novel’s formal status, is triggered here; we should not surrender too readily to the enchantments of realism. Aporetic questions will always haunt such moments. Was the “real” vase the un-lifelike Ming? Was there a vase? If not, was there a fountain? The furniture of realism can be changed or removed at a stroke." (http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/modern_fiction_studies/v056/56.3.robinson.html)

These changes definitely cause the reader to question the reality of Briony's narrative, especially in light of her highly imaginative nature as well as her need for secrets.


Robinson, Richard. "The Modernism of Ian McEwan's Atonement." Project Muse. 2010. Web. 3 Dec. 2011. <http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/modern_fiction_studies/v056/56.3.robinson.html>.