Before going any further, how about this quote to make you sit up and reflect.
‘How easy it was to drift through an unchosen life, in a succession of reactions to events.‘
So, did it make you sit up and reflect? If not, then perhaps Ian McEwan’s latest novel, Lessons, will not be your cup of tea. It most definitely was my cup of tea, I’m happy to say, not least because I myself used to be a piano teacher – though not one with a penchant for adolescent boys!
But seriously, have you never wondered how it is that you’ve ended up here, at this point in your existence, exactly where you are now? From a young age did you aspire towards the life you are currently leading? Or were you somehow pulled along, no matter how hard you may have tried at times to swim against the current, catching your breath every now and then, before once again being sucked into that inexorable whirlpool of time and circumstance?
Okay, so maybe all of that is a bit hyperbolic, but do you get my gist? I certainly got Roland’s gist – the protagonist of McEwan’s fascinating novel. Roland Baines – an insecure child just starting boarding school in the opening chapters; an ageing man with vast experience and a richly extended family by the end. Someone who self-admittedly was foolish ‘in the management of his life’; someone who hadn’t learned a great deal from all its wonderful and terrifying lessons, but at the same time, someone who was ultimately accepting of them, not disgruntled, moany and miserable. And, above all, someone who still has a lot to be thankful for. This is one of the main gems – or lessons, you might say – that I took away from Roland’s remarkable story: looking with objectivity at the long trajectory of one’s life.
Roland’s sexual experiences with his piano teacher when he was just fourteen (with hints of what was to come already in his first year at boarding school) certainly shaped his life. But were they responsible for the meandering orbit into which it subsequently pirouetted? Were they responsible for all the trials, ordeals, adventures, affairs, exploits and career choices – or rather, lack of career choices? In terms of ordeals, his young wife abandoning both him and their eight-month-old baby in order to free herself to great literary heights, surely must have numbered amongst the worst. But, as I’m sure the elderly Roland at the end of the book would agree, it was still a life worth living, however unplanned, however uncoordinated, however downright unwanted at times.
Wrapped in with Roland’s life story is a socio-political record of world events that marked so many other lives at the time, ranging from the second world war experienced by Roland’s parents and German in-laws, through the Cuban missile crisis, the fall of the Berlin Wall, Thatcherite Britain, the EU, Brexit, and the pandemic, to name but a few. Roland and Ian McEwan’s reflections (ah, where does the author end and the protagonist begin, that is the question!) are thought-provoking and entertaining to read, whatever your personal viewpoint. This skilful side-stepping to an almost journalistic analysis of the times is yet another fascinating aspect of the novel. On a more personal level, so are the reflections on how one’s upbringing and the flaws in one’s parents might shape an individual for better or worse. But no judgement.
At the end of the day, I suppose the crux of the book is in the title. Did Roland’s sensual, enigmatic, scarily controlling piano teacher have a life-long effect on him? More to the point, did he learn from it? Or from his parents? Or his absent wife’s parents? Or his friends and lovers and his beloved son? No doubt he did – at least partially. But that’s another reason why I so adore this latest book of McEwan’s. He doesn’t try to preach or teach. He merely records – with great skill, humour, pathos and fun – the life of one man who has lived through a series of events, as we all do, which are largely, but not entirely, out of our control.
‘The world divides at every conceivable moment into an infinitude of invisible possibilities.‘
How true, Mr McEwan, how true!
Wendy Skorupski 