When a novel is as thick as a brick, procrastination comes naturally. When the author is lan McEwan, however, you are bound to plough through it. Daunting as it is, his latest novel, Lessons, is worth the long and tedious ride that the author takes his readers on.
The 500-page tome has something for everyone–– a good love story, a family that’s broken at the hip, a woman’s singular interest in the field of literature, wars that have shaped the 20th century and more.
Lessons deal with aching memories for the most part, but it is also about the little joys. The title refers to the piano lessons that Roland, the protagonist, takes as a child as it does to the life lessons that he picks up along the way. Had Roland been written by a comedian, he would’ve been a self-deprecating character revisiting the “happiness eludes me” sentiment one too many times.
But it is McEwan who wields the pen here, and evidently, his aim is to not make you chuckle. The greatest gift that Roland possesses, though, is that of not allowing the arms of anxiety to catch him. Even when he’s down, he’s not out.
There are more than two sides to every act, and every decision and the supporting characters in Lessons know that quite well. Secrets are kept selfishly, and McEwan unspools them slowly until he hits the ground with the truth to reveal that Roland’s mother keeps an important detail regarding her personal history to herself till her last breath, and his wife, Alissa, abandons him and their son to become an author.
For men, the lines separating work and family have always been clear and they’re even praised for neglecting the latter for the sake of a successful career. Women, on the other hand, have never had a clear demarcation. It is inspiring to see how Alissa doesn’t mind becoming a villain in the eyes of her son to pursue her ambitions. She wants to be great and is ready to pay the price. Meanwhile, as she jumps from one success to another, Roland’s life stays the same, despite falling in love with another woman.
McEwan sticks Lessons to the wall of several unfortunate accidents and political upheavals and builds his character arcs around them, but the novel truly shines when the narratives are pushed to the margins. In Lucy by the Sea, Elizabeth Strout charts the chaos surrounding the coronavirus pandemic, the vacuum created by lockdowns, and the killing of George Floyd with the deftness of a memoirist. McEwan tackles similar material, but with the apathy of a historian. He seems to be carrying a crocheted knife to a gunfight.
Roland’s relationship with his son and step-children is the soul of Lessons, along with his ability to forgive those who have wronged him. He doesn’t bear a grudge against Alissa and, if truth be told, he keeps
a tab on her rising stardom. He even urges his grown-up son to meet Alissa one day, but his wish gets turned down. There seems to always be room for love in his heart.
Roland’s (second) marriage to Daphne, too, deserves long chapters. But he loses her to disease soon and it’s treated as just another accident that is part of the journey that is life. These moments––small and large––are what make the narrative brim with sincerity, and the many existential ponderings, which involve swapping lives, are excellent.
We imagine exchanging places with others all the time; we crave their riches (or minds). Envy is a cousin to aspiration, after all, and McEwan gets to the crux of this matter perfectly.