Sweet, nostalgic, lovely. That’s all I really have to say. Read it, love it. There is a fun, well, I can’t even allude to it without giving it away, so I won’t. It’s a mystery, and I will leave it so. My favorite part of the whole book:
It took me by surprise, this walk across an ancient past. Four or five years — nothing at all. But no one over thirty could understand this peculiarly weighted and condensed time, from late teens to early twenties, a stretch of life that needed a name, from school leaver to salaried professional, with a university and affairs and death and choices in between. I had forgotten how recent my childhood was, how long and inescapable it once seemed. How grown-up and and unchanged I was.
Sweet Tooth, by Ian McEwan, p. 216.
So true, so beautiful, such a profound and familiar reminiscence. McEwan is the king of those. Please read, and let’s discuss.