“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>.

"...She might look like and behave like and live the life of a trainee nurse, but she was really an important writer in disguise" (264).

Part three of Briony's novel is about her own experiences working as a nurse. It is implied that she decided to become a nurse, instead of attending college, in order to follow in the footsteps of her sister - a kind of penance to atone for her crime. The work they are required to do is lowly and menial and they are under the strict supervision by the strict and unyielding Sister Drummond, "Praise was unheard of. The best one could hope for was indifference" (258). It isn't until the evacuees start to arrive from Dunkirk that the nurses are able to do any actual nursing work. They are horrified by the injuries inflicted upon the soldiers from the war, an indication of the destruction and horror that would eventually make its way to London. The reader is already desensitized to these horrific injuries from reading Robbie's passage when the injuries are being afflicted.

The strict work and orderly routines, however, seem to be very fitting to Briony's nature. She adores rules and neat, orderly, surroundings, so it seems she should be suited to the work at the hospital. Instead, however, she is appalled at losing her sense of individuality, especially in losing her name, Briony. "'...Your Christian name is of no interest to me. Now kindly sit down, Nurse Tallis'" (259). They are referred to simply by their family name, and this, for some reason, is incredibly difficult for Briony to accept. In fact, her name (which is representative of her individuality) is the final thing she feels the need to say to the dying French soldier. It could be that losing her first name and being simply referred to as "Nurse Tallis,"threatens her individuality. Her sister is also a nurse, and though she does not work in the same place as Briony, she is also indubitably called "Nurse Tallis" as well. The likening of her to her sister may be particularly threatening to her as it is the wrongs she did against her sister and Robbie that caused her to become a nurse in the first place. It could be also that Briony is upset because at home her individuality was of such importance. Even at university her unique talents as a writer would have been praised and encouraged, however, at the hospital she was simply a nurse, "At the time, the journal preserved her dignity; she might look like and behave like and live the life of a trainee nurse, but she was really an important writer in disguise" (264). She had no talents in the hospital and there was nothing special about her. Perhaps this is why the loss of her name is so significant to her and why it it the theme of much of this section of the novel. This seems rather selfish though and not really in line with the theme of atonement.

"'And now you know. I'd risk my life for yours. But that doesn't mean I love you'" (218).

"'Do you know why I wanted you to save me?"
"No."
"Isn't it obvious?"
"No, it isn't."
"Because I love you'" (218).

In watching the movie Atonement, I felt much more significance was given to the drowning incident that needed to be. I always believed Briony's reason, that she was concerned with having the world "just so" and was blinded by her childish belief that everyone is either "all good" or "all bad." Perhaps, as I mentioned before, that was only the reason covering up her real reason, jealousy. In addition, the synopsis on the back of the movie Atonement also gives much more significance to this scene:

"...When a young girl catches her sister in a passionate embrace with a childhood friend, her jealousy drives her to tell a lie that will irrevocably change the course of all their lives forever..." (Thelma Adams, US Weekly). 

In contrast, the synopsis on the back of the novel says:

"...But Briony's incomplete grasp of adult motives and her precocious imagination bring about a crime that will change all their lives, a crime whose repercussions Atonement follows through the chaos and carnage of World War II and into the close of the twentieth century" (Back Cover). 

Keeping in mind that McEwan contributed heavily to the production of the movie Atonement, as well as the fact that Briony wrote the first portion of the novel, it is very possible that this incident between Robbie and Briony has much more significance than I had originally attributed to it. This helps me to view the movie, and the novel, in a much different light. However, as this is a fictitious story, a "real" interpretation is simply impossible. The only one who could perhaps offer a concrete answer in the matter, Ian McEwan, believes instead in the plethora of meanings that his readers derive from the work, instead of one, simple, concrete explanation.

"She was one of those children possessed by the desire to have the world just so" (4).

In reading Peter Matthew's article "The Impression of a Deeper Darkness: Ian McEwan's Atonement "I found a passage that not only endorsed my earlier observations of the plot of the novel coinciding with the atrocities of WWII, but went a step further, likening Briony's obsession with order and her subsequent guilt at her crime to the rise and fall of Nazi Fascism:

In considering these economic relationships, the reader must also take into account that Briony's "debt," her "crime," as McEwan calls it throughout the novel, is framed by the context of World War II. McEwan brilliantly interweaves the family drama with the movement of history, making each set of crimes reflect on the other. In terms of sheer atrocity, the war easily dwarfs Briony's misdeed, but the reader never loses sight of her shameful action. For a novel that draws from some of the key historical events of the twentieth century, however, there is surprisingly little discussion of the Nazis or the rise of fascism. McEwan implies, instead, that the fascist mindset has pervaded modern culture at a much deeper, unconscious level...Briony's interest in writing, to provide a further example, is tied to a fascistic obsession with order. McEwan writes: "She was one of those children possessed by the desire to have the world just so" (4). The point is not that Briony simply reflects the fascist mindset, even though her childish but calculating nature would seem to fit the stereotype. Instead, the narrative of Atonement ends up being an account of Briony's lifelong struggle with her internal attraction to fascism—the "fascism in us all," as Michel Foucault calls it—with its external patterns of order and symmetry (xiii). [End Page 154] (https://muse.jhu.edu/journals/esc_english_studies_in_canada/v032/32.1mathews.html)

I found this comparison extremely interesting, yet slightly horrifying at the same time. It is difficult to compare the crime of a silly naive little girl to the Nazi atrocities committed during the war, however, Matthews does make a good point. Briony's thoughts and actions do parallel fascistic beliefs, and her actions in regards to Robbie could certainly be construed as such. Matthews even goes so far as to liken Briony's horror at Lola and the twins' portrayal of her play that was contrary to her expectations to the Nazi hatred of "impure races" and their subsequent "cleansing" of them through the final solution of mass murder. While I think this view may be a bit extreme, I suppose these parallels found by Matthews are accurate. In addition to likening the personal problems of these characters to the problems of the war, Matthews also explores the possibility of the unreliable narrator, Briony, changing the events of the story to placate her selfish interests - her need for secrets where in reality, none are to be found. I hope to return to this rather upsetting possibility at a later point.

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>.

"It was not reasonable or just to hate Briony, but it helped" (215).

I had completely forgotten about how Robbie explained away Briony's actions against him. I recalled Briony's insignificant mentioning of the incident, her jumping into the river to see if Robbie would prove his love for her by saving her, but I had just sort of brushed it off. Briony didn't attribute any significance to the incident, however, perhaps simply by mentioning it she is revealing her real, suppressed reason for accusing Robbie: jealousy of his love for her sister. I had never before thought of the incident in this context before, but it does make sense as a possible explanation for Briony's actions. Taking into account that Briony is the author of this, perhaps the whole reason she concocts the reason for blaming him because it "made sense," is to disguise the true, petty reasons for her actions. This could explain her extreme guilt at the end of the novel, as she can never really forgive herself for allowing something as silly as jealousy to ruin the lives of her sister and Robbie. Her covering it up could also be an example of her intense need for secrets explained at the beginning of the novel. In his article "The Impresion of  Deeper Darkness: Ian McEwan's Atonement, Peter Matthews explains Briony's need for secrets:

At the centre of the book's narrative is a secret, an obscured truth, which McEwan uses to lure the reader into the story. Like Briony, the reader is pushed toward a moral judgment by this act of concealment, even though the information necessary to make an ethically informed decision is withheld. Each secret contains two possible destinies, writes Maurice Blanchot, "The stratagem of the secret is either to show itself, to make itself so visible that it isn't seen (to disappear, that is, as a secret), or to hint that the secret is only secret where there is no secret, or no appearance of any secret" (137). The crucial quality of a secret, in other words, lies in its form rather than its content, making the source of its attraction entirely negative. The paradoxical result is that the positive content at the heart of the secret, the evidence that can be gathered and analyzed, is effectively sidelined by the act of obscuration that frames it. (https://muse.jhu.edu/journals/esc_english_studies_in_canada/v032/32.1mathews.html)

While in his article Matthews argues a much different point (that there really is no secret in the novel and the story is merely Briony's attempt to expose her secret when, in reality, she has none - something that I hope to explore later on), the same argument can be used. Perhaps Briony admits to one secret, the possibility of her crime based on her innocence rather than the real reason - her jealousy.

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>.

"First his own life ruined, then everybody else's" (204).

I haven't really thought much about this story in regards to its relation to the historical backdrop of World War, however, it is impossible to escape the horrible realities of the war in Part two, Robbie's section about his eagerness to get back to Cecilia and resume their love. Robbie and the corporals travel through the countryside, avoiding the roads in fear of air raids, making their way to Dunkirk and the (hopefully) waiting ships. McEwan describes the war in horrifyingly realistic details, trying to show something that really can only be experienced through being there. He describes the air raids, the bombs that vaporized not only the soldiers, but women and children as well. He describes the bodies littering the streets that they are forced to simply walk past. He describes the lack of food and water, the unbearable fear and exhaustion and the force of Cecilia's love the only thing that Keeps Robbie walking towards the sea.

Framing the story in this way, with the historical backdrop of the war, certainly adds an extra element to the story. The first part of the novel takes place after WWI, in the time between WWII. The first portion of the novel takes place in a time of calm, however, the faraway threat of war seems looming on the horizon. Some characters in this portion of the novel express their views on the war, some believing that there will not be a war at all and others knowing that there will be one. Paul Marshall is excited about the coming war, viewing it as an opportunity to expand his wealth with his Amo chocalate bar that he plans to be issued to every soldier. The Tallis family is shielded from the realities of war by their wealth. Robbie, too, has plans to become a doctor with the help of the Tallis family and his studies, as well as position with the Tallis family would keep him from the lower and more dangerous ranks of the war. However, all of this is changed following Briony's accusation. Robbie is sent to prison and Cecilia, estranged from her family, becomes a nurse to aid those injured in the coming war. Both of the lovers are ultimately casualties of the war, Robbie - dying in Dunkirk just before he would be evacuated and returned to a waiting Cecilia, and Cecilia being killed in one of the bombings of London. The personal tragedies of the two lovers coincide with the historical problems of the war, adding another dimension of tragedy on the story. As Robbie thinks on the road to Dunkirk, with the imminent threat of air raids at any moment, "First his own life ruined, then everybody else's" (204).

"Let's forget what you know. You're saying you saw him" (169).

"'You saw him then."

"I know it was him."

"Let's forget what you know. You're saying you saw him."

"Yes, I saw him."

"Just as you see me."

"Yes."

"You saw him with your own eyes."

"Yes. I saw him. I saw him'" (169).

With these words Briony concludes her interview, thus sealing the fate of Robbie Turner. The issue of whether or not Briony actually saw anything at all that night remains in question, and there is a discrepancy in this point between the novel and the movie. In the novel, Briony's insistence on fitting the events of the world around her into the simple, orderly world of her novels, shapes her view on the incident. As Briony the novelist writes, "...she would have preferred to qualify, or complicate, her use of the word "saw." Less like seeing, more like knowing" (159). In the time leading up to the trial, "She was like a bride-to-be who begins to feel her sickening qualms as the day approaches, and dares not speak her mind because so many preparations have been made on her behalf" (159). In Briony's description of the actual incident, she at first believes Marshall and Lola to be a bush, and then sees only a dark human form hurrying away. So she saw nothing...probably. There is the distinct possibility that, as Briony is the author of this novel, she hoped to paint herself in a more flattering light, and thus shape this younger version of herself in order to offer some sort of excuse for her actions. The police even determined that there was enough moonlight and she was close enough to them to see who it had been, "Either she saw or she didn't see" (160). She could have seen something, anything at all, which had impacted her uncertainty, however, she attests that she saw nothing. If this is true, then there is also the very slim possibility that it had been Robbie. As unlikely as it may be, judging from Robbie's character, it is possible. If Briony saw absolutely nothing, then Lola is the only witness. We are led to assume that she lied about not knowing who it was in order to protect Marshall, but what if she hadn't actually lied? Their marriage at the end of the novel is enough to convince Briony that Robbie was innocent, however, this evidence certainly would not hold up in a court of law. With no evidence to directly contradict it and the only witnesses unreliable and biased, these possibilities remain.

In the film, however, it is directly implied that Briony saw Marshall that day. Unlike the novel, Briony has a flashlight (or "torch" as the English say), and for a split second, it illuminates someone. In her surprise, Briony drops the flashlight, yet we are given the slightest hint of red hair, a mustache - very different characteristics from Robbie. It is thus heavily implied that Briony lied. It was not so much that she hadn't seen anything and instead allowed her beliefs to guide her eyes, it was that she explicitly lied. The film relies heavily on the drowning scene, asserting (falsely, I believe) that it was jealousy of Robbie's love for her sister that led her to accuse him. This incident is described in the book as well, however, it is not really given much importance. I suppose, however, that the very mentioning of it by Briony the author could be construed as significant - perhaps a freudian inclusion on Briony's part about the real reason for accusing Robbie. Regardless, the entire novel hinges on this incident, and the various interpretations of the "true" events can change one's entire view of the novel. Unfortunately, as this is ultimately a fictional work by McEwan, the "real" story will never be known - we can merely argue our various interpretations, never being able to reach a definite conclusion.

"I couldn't say for sure" (157).

In my previous post, I decided to explore the issue of Lola's consent in the events that transpired on that fateful summer day that the novel centers around. In my rereading of the novel I have found that there are many possible interpretations of every scene. As Briony is the narrator, her account is inevitably biased. In addition, she is writing about 60 years after the fact, and includes omniscient narration of scenes and person thoughts - things that she cannot possibly know. In addition, her inclusion of the imagined scene at the end, as well as her knowledge of the outcome of the story (and her frequent vague allusions to this fact), one cannot help but question the accuracy of her account of the story. In spite of the inevitable plethora of interpretations that one can derive from this novel, due to the lack of information I found on this subject, I decided it would be worthwhile to explore it a bit more.

The first allusion to Lola's probable consent is apparent in the nursery scene. At the beginning of the novel, we witness an example of Lola's character in her insistence that she play the part of Arabella in Briony's play. Briony is outraged, but ultimately yields to the older girl's bossy and commanding nature. In addition, the description of Lola's clothes (the reason why she won't sit on the floor during the rehearsal because they might get wrinkled) and her preoccupation with her hair and her appearance is reminiscent of a girl desperately yearning for maturity. This is hardly the characterization of an innocent, blameless victim. In the beginning of the nursery scene with Marshall, we are privy to yet another example of Lola's bossy and forceful character in her commanding use of the adult phrase, "'Then I'll thank you not to talk about them in front of the children"' when Marshall mentions having read of their parents divorce in the papers. After this exchange, Marshall blushes and apologizes profusely, showing Lola's apparent command over him. He then resumes his small-talk with the children, concentrating specifically on Lola. Lola is flattered by this adult attention and constantly tries to make herself seem more mature. When he compliments her trousers: 

"She was pleased rather than embarassed and her fingers lightly brushed the fabric where it ballooned out across her narrow hips. "We got them in Liberty's when my mother brought me to London to see a show."

"And what did you see?"

"Hamlet" They had in fact seen a matinee pantomime at the London Palladium during which Lola had spilled a strawberry drink down her frock, and Liberty's was right across the street" (57).

 Marshall is certainly expressing an inappropriate interest in the girl, however, Lola (in her yearning to grow up) does not discourage it. Following this is the scene absolutely oozing of sexual tension, " he crossed and uncrossed his legs. Then he took a deep breath. "Bite it," he said softly. "You've got to bite it"' (59). While Lola may not completely understand this underlying implications of this exchange, she simply laughs and dismisses the twins, leaving herself alone with Marshall.

The fact that the twins are not in the nursery with Lola and Marshall at the time that they supposedly inflicted the scratches and bruises on her directly contradicts Lola's assertion and Marshall's defense of it. In addition, her embarrassment and crying when the incident is mentioned alludes to the fact that something other than a sibling quarrel had taken place. It is possible that Marshall threatened Lola into not telling, however, it seems more likely that this commanding girl who is in such a hurry to grow up, was  finally faced with something that she did not understand and that frightened her. That, combined with the guilt of losing her chastity and her utter confusion and the discrepancy of her and Marshall's ages, contributed to her lie. I am amazed that the only adult that commented on the possibility of two little boys inflicting these injuries on Lola, was Emily, whose comment was quickly swept aside by the note from the twins that they had run away. The doctor, at least, should have commented on these injuries in examining Lola, but perhaps he simply assumed that they had been inflicted upon her by her attacker in the last incident.

Finally, after Briony frightens away Lola's attacker, she does not wait for Lola to say who it really was. Instead Briony asks, "'It was him, wasn't it?"' to which Lola nods slowly and hesitantly, yes (155). Then Briony asks her to say his name, and before Lola has time to answer, Briony bursts out Robbie's name - the culprit that most made sense to her. It is only then that Lola sees a way to protect Marshall and becomes uncertain, finally retracting her first "yes it was him" in favor of, "I couldn't say for sure" (157). Their marriage at the end of the novel ultimately shows their feelings for one another. They wait a long time before marrying, keeping their relationship a secret until Lola was of age. I view this incident as an admittance of their feelings for one another, rather than Lola being guilted into making this commitment as a result of her rape. A relationship at Lola's young age was certainly illegal and fearing that Marshall would go to prison, Lola protected him by allowing the younger girl to go forth with her accusation of Robbie:

"Briony offered her a chance and she seized it instinctively; less than that - she simply let it settle over her. She had little more to do than remain silent behind her cousin's zeal. Lola did not need to lie, to look her supposed attacker in the eye and summon the courage to accuse him, because all that work was done for her, innocently, and without guile by the younger girl. Lola was only required to remain silent about the truth, banish it and forget it entirely, and persuade herself not of some contrary tale, but simply of her own uncertainty" (158).

This statement reinforces that Lola did lie, that she knew who her attacker was and out of feelings for Marshall, allowed Briony to accuse him. These events could perhaps be interpreted as the guilt that rapists often feel, however, Lola's marriage to Marshall seems to imply some level of feelings towards him before the alleged attack. Furthermore, the continued allusions to her maturity and eagerness to "grow up" could have led her to consent to sexual acts with Marshall, realizing only after how woefully unprepared she was for the implications of this sort of relationship. Regardless their actions - Lola's lie and Marshall's violation of an underage girl as well as their silence as Robbie was accused - are simply inexcusable and unforgivable.

"'Nothing good will come of it' was the phrase she often used, to which Jack would respond smugly that plenty of good had come already" (142).

In reading several reviews of the book and novel, I have repeatedly seen written that Robbie was falsely accused and wrongfully imprisoned mainly due to his lowly socio-economic position. I always cringe when reading something like this - something that reduces the entire plot of this complex novel to mere economic discrimination. I guess, however, that for some of the characters (namely Emily Tallis and perhaps Leon and their father as well) this was exactly the reason. As Peter Matthews writes in his article, "The Impression of a Deeper Darkness: Ian McEwan's Atonement," the relationship between the Tallis and Turner families is strongly rooted in monetary exchange. While this relationship has grown into something somewhat more over time, the fact remains that Robbie's mother is still an employee in the Tallis home:

 "The history of the Turners' relationship with the Tallis family, for example, is strongly overcoded by monetary exchange. Robbie's parents start out as servants in the household, but with the departure of his father, Ernest, this arrangement takes on a different and more complicated aspect. Grace Turner's usefulness to the family transcends her role as a servant, a fact that the family acknowledges through various gifts—Jack Tallis presents her with the deeds to the bungalow, Grace is kept on in a new capacity, and Robbie's education is paid for. In this initial setup, atonement loses its usual negative tinge. The Turner and Tallis families are united, made "at one" through this mutually beneficial relationship. Robbie is elevated from being the son of a servant to the social equal of the Tallis children, a move that lays the ground for his future romance with Cecilia. But the economic tensions underlying this move quickly become visible after Briony's accusation. Mrs Tallis, the reader discovers, initially opposed her husband's decision to fund Robbie's education. McEwan writes: "'Nothing good will come of [End Page 153] it' was the phrase she often used, to which Jack would respond smugly that plenty of good had come already" (142). However benevolent Jack's actions may be, it is impossible for him to overcome fully the fact that his liberality places Robbie in a position of obligation. While according to the letter of the law Robbie's education is paid for freely, in good will, Jack's reframing of his protégé as a "good investment" unconsciously implies that the return on his money—Robbie's first at Cambridge, his ambition to go to medical school—has paid off well. Thus the benevolence of the Tallis family evaporates once Robbie has been accused, and Emily Tallis, who doubted the value of their "investment" in the first place, is the most forceful and relentless in the prosecution of Robbie."

Reading this portion of the article has definitely changed my thinking a little bit. I had primarily focused on Briony's reasons for accusing Robbie but her reasons, without the additional aspect of his being in a lower class than the Tallis family, may not have been so fully acknowledged by all the members of the family. Briony was only a child, and a fairly imaginative child as her family knew, thus her testimony as a witness had to be taken with a grain of salt. With Cecilia's explanation of the note and the scene in the library, the case hinged more and more on Briony's accusation. Her accusation was simply a door which allowed the biases of the various family members and officials to flow forth. Emily, who had openly opposed her husband's "investment" in Robbie, was more than willing to prove her husband wrong. Leon, however enlightened and open-minded he appeared to be, succumbed to his biases by believing that Robbie was the more likely suspect instead of his friend, Paul Marshall. Their father, who is notably absent from the novel, had originally believed believed in Robbie, however, he refused to come to his aid when he needed it most. It is implied that Jack's absence is not unusual, and the fact that he is staying overnight in the city on so many occasions implies that he is perhaps having an affair. It is possible that he is simply working hard preparing for the coming war, however, it seems very likely (based on Emily's chilly attitude towards him) that he is being unfaithful. With this interpretation, it seems very possible that Jack also believed Robbie to be capable of this act (regardless of his previous faith in him), based primarily on his social class, as if he had truly believed in Robbie he would not have made an effort to be there to defend him (http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/modern_fiction_studies/v056/56.3.robinson.html).

Another instance of this bias is the fact that no one stopped to consider that Leon's friend Marshall could perhaps be to blame. Briony's accusation of Robbie, especially her age and her qualifying, "her use of the word "saw." Less like seeing, more like knowing," lead her to be a somewhat unreliable witness (159). It should have crossed the minds of someone, especially Cecilia, that there was another man who had been out searching alone when the violation had taken place. Even in Briony's imagined scene at the end, Cecilia and Robbie still believed that it was one of the servants had committed the crime, indicating that they had most likely believed this all along. Even Robbie, fully knowing that he had not committed the crime, was influenced by the bias of the time and thought that Lola must have been molested by a servant. I cannot believe that I hadn't really thought much about this before, with all my readings and rereadings of the novel.

Robinson, Richard. "The Modernism of Ian McEwan's Atonement." Project Muse. MF Studies, 2010. Web. 23 Nov. 2011. <http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/modern_fiction_studies/v056/56.3.robinson.html>.

"'Bite it," he said softly. "You've got to bite it" (59).

In my very first reading of the novel, I was appalled by sexual tension the nursery scene, furious when Lola  "confided" to Briony that it was the twins who hurt Lola, livid when no one at the dinner table further questioned how two little boys could have inflicted such injuries on Lola, and absolutely outraged when Lola said she "didn't see" who had molested her. It was so clear to me that Paul Marshall was to blame (which could perhaps could be alluded to by Briony's narration), and I was astonished when we discussed it in my AP English class later that week, that no one else felt similarly. I found Lola to be a detestable character, one who contributed to and did not discourage the (probable) first violation in the nursery, lied about it and blamed it on her brothers, and finally lied and confessed that she "didn't see" who it was, went along with the lie so far as to wrongfully convict someone, and eventually married her rapist.

In light of this dicussion, I began to question my interpretation of various scene: the nursery scene, Lola's deep blushing and tears at the mention of her injuries, her hesitation to condemn Robbie, and her eventual marriage to Marshall. My classmates did not give any significance to Lola's injuries supposedly inflicted by the twins, and they interpreted her tears and refusal to admit who had raped her as well as her eventual marriage to him as evidence of Rape Shame. According to the Rape Treatment Center, shame is a typical reaction to rape:

"Feelings of guilt and shame are common reactions following a sexual assault. Because of misconceptions about rape, some victims blame themselves, doubt their own judgment, or wonder if they were in some way responsible for the assault." (Link: http://www.911rape.org/impact-of-rape/self-blame-and-shame)

Unlike my classmates, however, I just couldn't explain away Lola's crime in this way. I tried to search for an article that could help to argue my viewpoint, however, I could find nothing. I did feel Lola was responsible, in some way, for Marshall's advances. The mutual sexual tension is evident in the nursery scene, her injuries are obviously a result of (on some level consensual) sexual act in the nursery, Lola's tears are a result of the shame she feels at losing her chastity and the awkwardness of their situation because of her age, and her eventual marriage is evidence of the feelings she has (and always has had) for Marshall. Legally speaking, yes, this sexual act would be considered statutory rape as a result of Lola's age (15), and so to protect Marshall, she allows Robbie to be blamed. The difficulty, however, in arguing this point is that there is the ever-present threat that this view could be interpreted as an attempt to put blame on the innocent victim of rape. As the Rape Treatment Center goes on to say, "Feelings of guilt and self-blame may be reinforced by the reactions of others, who, because of prevalent myths about rape, may blame the victim or criticize his or her behavior." I do believe there was some element of consent in Lola's rape, despite the possible criticisms of this view, and I hope to further explore this point.




"Self-Blame and Shame | Rape Treatment Center." 911rape.org | Rape Treatment Center. Web. 23 Nov. 2011. <http://www.911rape.org/impact-of-rape/self-blame-and-shame>.

"...If he had ever thought about her at all he might have said she was a bit horsey in appearance" (74).

After dwelling on my previous thoughts regarding the nature of the Atonement film and its relation to the novel, I decided to dig out my DVD copy of the film and see if there were any director commentary on this subject. To my happy surprise, I found a segment entitled "Atonement - Novel to the Screen," featuring commentary not just the director, but Ian McEwan, the producer, the screenwriter, as well as a notable actress from the film:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cz3uoahh9qs

In this interview, McEwan keeps with his aforementioned views of the limitations of films as opposed to novels, stating, "In a movie you only have what people say and do...and you must find some way of getting those interior feelings across." In addition, Keira Knightly, the actress who plays Cecilia Tallis, also admits to this difficulty, however she admits that this difficulty is also helpful to her acting,"It's always great, when you've got something based on a book, that has that much internal dialogue, to go back and go, "Okay, that is what my character is thinking at that point," and to be able to go back see that it's very clear where these characters are coming from." Having read the novel as many times as I have, as I watch the movie I almost unconsciously match the scenes with McEwan's elegantly descriptive prose about the event. I was never sure, however, if the actors were given the same stage directions that appear in the novel, or I simply perceived the acting to align with my expectations. It was extremely refreshing, then, to hear Knightly's commentary on the novel and its transition into film, acknowledging that not only has she read the novel, but she uses it as a basis for her acting. 

The film Atonement, in its transition from novel to screen, was given many opportunities to culminate in utter failure. Had the other screenwriter mentioned in the interview been picked, or if different actors and actresses had been chose, if McEwan had not worked closely on the project - the novel certainly could have ended in failure, much like The Trials of Arabella. I found the choices made in regards to the film were spectacularly made. The acting was terrific (In fact, ever since reading Robbie's description of Cecilia, "That long, narrow face, the small mouth - if he had ever thought about her at all he might have said she was a little horsey in appearance. Now he saw it was a strange beauty" (74) I could only envision Knightly as playing Cecilia as in different lights Knightly can be either radiating of beauty or, as Robbie says, "a bit horsey in appearance."), the screenplay was "stupendous," and the creation of the scenery was heartbreakingly beautiful.

"It seemed so obvious now that it was too late: a story was a form of telepathy" (35).

In returning once again to Briony's failed play and the reasons for its failure - the incompetence of the twins, Lola's stealing of the role of Arabella, and the inadequacy of the props and available materials - one can conclude that the ultimate reason for the failure of the story was that Briony simply used the wrong form. As Briony states in arriving at this realization:

"In a story you only had to wish, you only had to write it down and you could have the world; in a play you had to make do with what was available: no horses, no village streets, no seaside. No curtain. It seemed so obvious now that it was too late: a story was a form of telepathy. By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to the reader's" (35). 

Keeping this in mind, one cannot help but wonder how Atonement, a novel that is so much about the complexities of the perceptions of individual human minds, has been adapted into a rather successful major motion picture as a film is really nothing more than a large-scale version of a play. There are the same limitations as in Briony's play: the competence of the actors and actresses and also monetary budget restrictions that impact the quality of props, supporting characters, and scene settings. Throughout this process, there are many, many opportunities for failure. Just as in The Trials of Arabella, any number of factors could "ruin" the film for either the director or Ian McEwan, as he took a large role in the production of the film. The looming threat of failure is ever-present in the making of a film and there are so many factors that contribute to the overall project that one person doesn't really have any control over it whatsoever. This is indubitably threatening to Briony's overwhelming need for order and control, thus why she finds novels more suiting. It has been said that  through the character of Briony, McEwan reveals his own views on the nature of writing. In a 2002 interview with the San Francisco Chronicle McEwan mentioned that his views on novel writing vs. play (screenplay) writing to be very similar to those held by Briony:

Q. How do you compare the artistic satisfaction of writing a screenplay to writing a novel?

A. It's hard to take screenplay writing as seriously as novel writing. You're not God, you're not even a demigod, you're not even a cherub (3). 

(Article Link: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2002/03/10/RV51718.DTL) 

In this interview McEwan addresses something that is often referenced by Briony's character - her role in writing novel, as God. This is essential to Briony and it seems, by this quote, to be of some importance to McEwan as well. So the question remains, how does a novel that outright condemns all forms of plays go on to become a successful major motion picture? I suppose the grand Hollywood budget, nor the appearance of two big-name actors, Keira Knightly and James McAvoy, certainly didn't hurt the success of the film. Indeed, Atonement, had much more resources at its disposal than did Briony's little play. However, the film Atonement is not without its small failures - its inability, due to the very nature of plays, to convey the accurate emotions of the characters as well as its trimming and changing of certain elements in order to satisfy time constraints and overall aesthetics of the film. Despite these small and inevitable failures, however, the film Atonement is one of the more successful (in my opinion) adaptions from novel to film.



Wiegand, David. "Q&A with Ian McEwan: Getting Rid of the Ghosts." Editorial. San Francisco Chronicle 10 Mar. 2002: 1-3. SFGate. Web. 22 Nov. 2011. <(Article Link: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2002/03/10/RV51718.DTL)>.

"Two Figures by a Fountain"

In witnessing the rather bizarre interaction at the fountain between her sister and Robbie, Briony attempts to carry out her aforementioned realization, that others are just as alive as she is, by seeking to write a story about the incident from three different viewpoints:

"She could write the scene three times over, from three points of view; her excitement was in the prospect of freedom, of being delivered from the cumbrous struggle between good and bad, heroes and villians. None of these three was bad, nor were they particularly good. She need not judge. There did not have to be a moral. She need only show separate minds, as alive as her own, struggling with the idea that other minds were equally alive" (38).

This passage seems to assert that Briony's realization is complete and that instead of disregarding her earlier contemplations, she wholeheartedly embraced them. This assertion, however, is a direct contradiction of her earlier statement in regards to the existence of other minds as alive as her own, "She knew this, but only in a rather arid way; she didn't really feel it"(34). In fact, just after the former quote about the incident by the fountain, the author Briony goes on to call the reliability of her total realization that day into question:

"...it was not the long-ago morning she was recalling so much as her subsequent accounts of it. It was possible that the contemplation of a crooked finger, the unbearable idea of other minds and the superiority of stories over plays were thoughts she had had on other days...However she could not betray herself completely; there could be no doubt that some kind of revelation had occurred When the young girl went back to the window and looked down, the damp patch on the gravel had evaporated. Now there was nothing left of the dumb show by the fountain beyond what survived in memory, in three separate and overlapping memories" (39).

This acknowledgement by the adult Briony calls into question the accuracy of her above statement. If she had followed her realization, that other minds are as equally alive and significant as her own, all the way through then she would have contemplated the letter and the scene in the library further. She would have taken into account Robbie and Cecilia's viewpoints, instead of jumping to the wrong conclusions which led to Robbie's wrongful incarceration. As Briony was still very much a child, it is possible that she simply did not understand these incidents. However, in keeping with her revelation and her aforementioned decision of withholding judgement, Briony should not have condemned Robbie. Rather, as with the scene by the fountain, she should have viewed these incidents cautiously and with the full knowledge that perhaps there were things at work here that were beyond her comprehension. The acknowledgement that perhaps she hadn't fully come to this conclusion on this fateful day by the author Briony makes sense in the unfolding of events in the rest of the novel. It seems much more likely that perhaps the thought may have crossed her mind but, as she stated earlier, "She knew this, but only in a rather arid way; she didn't really feel it"(34). It was there, yet unacknowledged. Her realization in watching the scene by the fountain seems out of place in regards to her later actions in the novel. Indeed, it is right after this incident that Briony goes out to the island to thrash nettles out of anger for her ruined play - hardly the actions of an enlightened novelist. Also, I think that it is much easier for the reader to forgive Briony for her crime in believing that she committed it unintentionally, out of innocence and her inability to grasp the concept of other points of view. Alternatively, it is much easier to condemn her in believing that she did grasp the full extent of her realization and instead disregarded it, in favor of her childish views of good vs. evil.

"One could drown in irrelevance" (34).

An important passage in Atonement, where Briony contemplates just what it means to be Briony and if other people are just as alive as she is, is a realization that, if she had followed it out, probably would have prevented her from committing her crime. The scene begins with an unhappy Briony alone in the nursery, "She raised one hand and flexed its fingers and wondered, as she has sometimes before, how this thing, this machine for gripping, this fleshy spider on the end of her arm, came to be hers, entirely at her command. Or did it have some little life of its own? She bent her finger and straightened it" (33).

In contemplating this, Briony also begins to think about yet another mystery, "Was everyone else really as alive as she was? For example, did her sister really matter to herself, was she just as valuable to herself as Briony was? Was being Cecilia just as vivid an affair as being Briony? ...If the answer was yes, then the world, the social world, was unbearably complicated, with two billion voices, and everyone's thoughts striving in equal importance and everyone's claim on life as intense, and everyone thinking they were unique, when no one was. One could drown in irrelevance" (34).

This passage is an example of a typical childhood experience - one that is essential to growing-up: the realization that one is not the center of the universe, rather there are others with thoughts and feelings and dreams and experiences that are completely different from one's own. Most everyone has had some sort of experience like the scene in this novel. It is a realization that is essential in growing up, one that finally shatters our innocence and causes us to think of others and to be aware of their (just as important) thoughts and aspirations. It is also the striking realization that one is not as important to others in the grand scheme of things, as one is to one's self. This realization, though necessary, is incredibly disheartening. As Briony says, "One could drown in irrelevance" (34).

While Briony does contemplate these mysteries prior to her crime of misunderstanding, she does so in a rather offhanded way - acknowledging that perhaps this is possible, but not entirely ready to admit that it is certainly so. As she goes on to say, "For, though it offended her sense of order, she knew it was overwhelmingly probable that everyone else had thoughts like hers. She knew this, but only in a rather arid way; she didn't really feel it" (34). If she had fully acknowledged this realization, it is very likely that she would have viewed all the incidents of the day in a very different mindset, possibly leading to a very different outcome.

"In the aisles of country churches and grand city cathedrals, her heroines and heroes reached their innocent climaxes and needed to go no further" (9).

The aborted play, The Trials of Arabella, that appears at the beginning of the novel is something that I have never really given much thought to. The play is a characteristic fairy-tale-esque romance - complete with two lovers, a terrible villain, and finally, the reward of marriage. I vaguely recall hearing, however, through the veil of my drowsy senioritis-afflicted mind, my AP Literature teacher saying that this play serves to reveal Briony's naive knowledge about relationships which directly impacts her actions later in the novel. This vague memory, together with my re-reading of the novel, prompted me to further investigate this subject.

Briony is a precocious child in many ways - her extraordinary writing ability, vocabulary, and passion for learning - however, it is important to keep in mind that she is still very much a child in many ways. The characters of her play go through their various trials and then they are married. "A love of order also shaped the principles of justice, with death and marriage the main engines of housekeeping, the former being set aside exclusively for the morally dubious, the latter a reward witheld until the final page" (7). As a rather sheltered girl of 13, combined with her need for order and her driving need to make sense out of the universe, Briony is unable (or unwilling) to look past the act of marriage to what happens next. Sexual relations, procreation, and child-rearing, are notably absent from Briony's works - they are too messy, too passionate, too unorganized - to have a place in Briony's carefully planned out universe. This mindset, combined with the innocence of her age as well as her virtual isolation from other children by the secluded location of the Tallis household, combined together to shape her views of the world. "A good wedding was an unacknowledged representation of the as yet unthinkable-sexual bliss. In the aisles of country churches and grand city cathedrals, her heroines and heroes reached their innocent climaxes and needed to go no further" (8-9). These words, written by a much older Briony reveals that indeed she did not consciously acknowledge the inherent sexuality of her characters. This revelation could also be used to explain her actions in regards to the scenes witnessed between her sister and Robbie. As her organized, innocent world had no place for love expressed through sexual relations, Briony interpreted these interactions as violent. Thus, when Briony "saw" Lola being molested, her logical conclusion - based on her witnessing of the scene by the fountain, her reading of Robbie's note, and her interruption of the scene in the library combined together in her mind to reach the conclusion that made sense  - that Robbie was to blame. She could not believe that her sister and Robbie were in love, as this emotion (in her universe) would be expressed by a proposal of marriage followed by a beautiful and elaborate wedding. Sexuality as an expression of love was impossible for Briony to understand. Adult sexuality is too passionate, too unpredictable and inexplainable to fit neatly into Briony's little universe and it would only be through the experience of growing up that Briony would learn to accept it.

It is important to keep in mind, however, that this passage was written by Briony and it remains a distinct possibility that Briony (whether intentionally or unintentionally) could have included this information as a sort of excuse for her actions. It is human nature to attempt to maintain our self esteem by unconsciously censoring oneself in an attempt to paint ourselves in a more flattering light. As this novel is written by Briony concerning her own life experiences, the reliability of her narration is always in question. As this is the only text of this fictional story, however,  the real "truth" remains unknown and irrelevant. We simply have to accept Briony's words as truth and that the motivation of her extreme guilt and need for atonement drove her to tell this story as truthfully as possible.

"My Jane Austen Novel"

After writing the previous blog on the epigraph from Northanger Abbey, I realized (a little late) that I probably should have done a brief search to see if other authors (who had actually read the novel) could offer more substantial insight into the epigraph's relation to the text. Almost immediately I came across an extremely intriguing article by a university english professor, Juliette Wells, who incidentally wrote a very similar (though somewhat more informed) article about  the work of Jane Austen and its relation to Atonement. (Article Link: http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/printed/number30/wells.pdf) Wells took this observation further, however, arguining that the character of Briony was potentially modeled after Austen herself. I found this portion of the article to be extremely interesting as my aforementioned abhorrence of the work left me completely ignorant in regards to the life of its author. Incidentally, Austen too was a precocious youth who, much like Briony, indulged in writing and producing novellas and plays at a very young age. Briony's realization during the production of her play that she wanted to be a novelist, as that has a much more direct connection with the reader, is also reminiscent of Austen. Even the "happily ever after" that Briony gives to both the play, and the novel, is very reminiscent of Austen's style. In Briony's version, Robbie and Cecilia are reunited and still very much in love. Their relationship holds the promise of many possibilities, the foremost of which is marriage - which is exactly the way in which every single Jane Austen novel ends.

This realization, along with Wells' assertion that McEwan continuously refers to Atonement as "my Jane Austen novel" (102) was a complete and utter shock to me. I have never, ever, liked any of Austen's works: they're long, for the most part rather boring, nothing happens except silly little parties, and everything always end in happiness and marriage. Life doesn't always have the "happily ever after" that Austen novels portray, and I have always liked how in Atonement that happy ending was given - and then brutally yanked away only pages later. It left you shocked, betrayed, angered, sad, and most of all, it left you thinking. Perhaps some of McEwan's novel was based on themes from Jane Austen's work, however, the shockingly real themes of rape, war, anger, guilt, injury, and death are very, very different from anything one would find in an Austen novel. Regardless, I am glad I stumbled across this article. It is very interesting to see where McEwan got his inspiration for the plot, as well as the character of Briony. While I don't believe the book to truly be a "Jane Austen novel," I do believe that perhaps there are, as the title of Wells' article suggests, "Shades of Austen in...Atonement" (101).

Wells, Juliette. "Shades of Austen in Ian McEwan's Atonement." Jasna.org. Web. 2 Dec. 2011. <http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/printed/number30/wells.pdf>.

ep·i·graph: A short quotation or saying at the beginning of a book or chapter to suggest its theme.

"'Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from? Remember the country and the age in which we live. Remember that we are English: that we are Christians. Consult your own understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing around you. Does our education prepare us for such atrocities? Do our laws connive at them? Could they be perpetrated without being known in a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such a footing, where every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers lay everything open? Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?'

They had reached the end of the gallery; and with tears of shame, she ran off to her own room." 

-Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

(epigraph to Atonement)

I can't believe that in all my readings and re-readings of this novel, I have never noticed this introductory quote. This text, without context, seemingly has no real connection to the rest of the novel. I'm reasonably sure that McEwan would not simply tack on an irrelevant quote on to the beginning of his book, so although I adamantly despise Jane Austen's work (excluding the infinitely more exciting zombie versions), I decided to investigate this novel.

After reading several book reviews and plot summaries I found, to my complete surprise, that this novel had very much in common with Atonement. I was even more surprised to find that it actually seemed like a novel that I would possibly, maybe, even enjoy, despite my intense loathing of most Austen novels. The protagonist of Northanger Abbey is intensely interested in Gothic novels and much like Briony, applies these fictitious novels to real life. She is invited to stay at Northanger Abbey by her suitor's family and wrongfully expects the visit to resemble something out of her novels. When she is forbidden from entering a series of rooms belonging to the late madam of the house, she immediately concludes that there is something sinister going on. She decides to inspect the rooms, entertaining the fantastic prospects of murder or imprisonment. Not only does she find her suspicions to be false but she is caught and punished for her inability to distinguish fiction from reality and is sent home in disgrace and heartbreak. The intrigue of the novel erodes, however, as in typical Austen fashion she is forgiven and everyone gets married in the end.

In class we read another novel by Jane Austen, Emma, which also features a protagonist who commits grave errors in judgement because of her narrow-mindedness and seeing only what she wants to. The errors in this novel, like those in Northanger Abbey, are much less serious than the one in Atonement, as the novel ends, once again, in forgiveness and marriage.

Atonement, in my opinion, seems to be a similar, yet more intense (and as a result, more interesting and heartbreaking) version of this story. Briony, much like the protagonist of Northanger Abbey, is unable to distinguish fiction from reality and because of this she commits a terrible and unforgivable crime. In her mind, she puts together the scenes she had witnessed and misunderstood throughout the day and decides that it only makes sense for Robbie to be the rapist. When she is later questioned by the police as to what she saw, Briony continuously flips between "I know it was him" and "I saw him" - statements that she believes to be interchangeable. Unlike in Northanger Abbey,  Briony's lie has dire consequences, launching into motion a series of events that prevents the two lovers, Robbie and Cecilia, from ever being able to fulfill their love. Instead of studying to become a doctor, Robbie is sent to prison and then the war, where he eventually perishes. Cecilia, estranged from her family, abandons her studies and becomes a nurse, eventually perishing when that area is bombed. In a way, Northanger Abbey is a foil to Atonement, or more accurately, McEwan's version of the novel. Briony's version disregards the deaths of Robbie and Cecilia, and allows them the "happily ever after" ending they were deprived of in life, not unlike Austen's novel Northanger Abbey. However in McEwan's novel, forgiveness for Briony's inability to distinguish fiction from reality is absolutely impossible.

"epigraph." Merriam-Webster.com. Merriam-Webster, 2011.Web. 17 November 2011  http://mw1.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/epigraph

The Beginning.

I have always been mystified as to why Ian McEwan's novel, Atonement, is so incredibly fascinating to me. The book has held a highly coveted spot atop the list of my all-time favorite novels ever since I first read it in one tear-filled Sunday afternoon in high school, and I have always been mystified as to why. It's not that I completely understand it -- I don't, not at all. And it isn't that it makes me happier about my own life, as tragically sad novels are supposed to do. All that reading this novel succeeds in doing is raising a bunch of questions that neither I, nor anyone, has the answers to.

Perhaps that is exactly the reason I like it so much.

Anyways, I am extremely excited to be reading this wonderful novel once again. I definitely look forward to reading and analyzing the complexities of this book in an attempt to try and understand it, as impossible a task as that may be. As Briony writes early on in her novel, "There did not have to be a moral. She need only show seperate minds, as alive as her own, struggling with the idea that other minds were equally alive...And only in a story could you enter these different minds and show how they had an equal value. That was the only moral a story need have" (38).