"Ever since I lost mine in a road accident when I was eight, I have had my eye on other people's parents..." Jeremy, first person narrator in Ian McEwan's BLACK DOGS, finds what he is searching for in the parents of his wife Jenny, June and Bernard Tremaine. Placing the exploration of his in-laws' complicated relationship over five decades at the story's core around which the philosophical, spiritual and moral themes are continually gyrating, McEwan masterfully dissects the private sphere within and against the context of political developments in post-war Europe.Jeremy, having agreed to assist the now ailing June to write her memoir, attempts to reach beyond her version of memories, by talking, in parallel to Bernard. For a better understanding of his own relationships, he needs to lead the couple back to the root-cause for their estrangement that has torn them apart, despite the strong emotional ties that have kept them, at times painfully, connected. McEwan's narration moves fluidly back and forth between the present discussions between June and Jeremy and the various pertinent timelines, going back to 1946 and the couple's honeymoon in a remote region of southern France. The black dogs of the title, introduced early on in the "Preface", reappear persistently throughout whether in June's dreams or in her recalling their appearance that so frightened her back then. While the actual circumstances are only revealed at the end of the book, in June's mind the dogs have evolved into something much more fundamental for her: a symbol of Menace and Evil that she has to counteract spiritually as best as she can.There is much in this brief novel to capture the attention and imagination of the reader. The evocation of June's sense of happiness and fearful foreboding set against the beautiful, yet menacing barren landscape, is exquisite. McEwan convincingly contrasts June's and Bernard's opposing characters that the deep ties cannot mediate. "...a silly occultist and [...]a fish-eyed commissar.." is June's apt definition. Jeremy is a sensitively depicted, pleasant enough character who "is found by love" in his late thirties. However, several aspects of the book jarred for me and reduced the full engagement with the story and the characters. For example, the Preface reveals much important context beyond Jeremy, his relation to his wife and family and the events that led June and Bernard to move their lives into different directions: it already touches upon the core issues of the novel that might have had more impact on me were they to unfold slowly over the course of the narration. Furthermore, the novel's structure into four distinct Parts, deliberately disrupts the main narrative flows. While these on the one hand allowing for a deeper exploration of specific time periods and political events, for example, the Fall of the Berlin Wall, they seem, on the other, to skew the balance of importance that these events might have for the essence of the novel. Within the selection of these expansive semi-autonomous sub-stories we find some less than probable and/or extreme circumstances that are in danger of reducing the authenticity of other aspects of the novel and, for this reader, affect the overall enjoyment of the book. Without revealing any story details, nothing more can be said about these here. However, the issue of balance between primary story and semi-autonomous sub-story becomes more prominent in later McEwan novels, for example Atonement: A Novel.
A beautifully written novella but hollow in the centre, and leaving me dissatisfied at the end. It essentially revolves around a biography that the “author” Jeremy wants to write about his in-laws, June and Bernard. (To understand why they are so important to Jeremy, you need to read the introduction which is actually part of the novella itself and not, as I first thought, an autobiographical note on the real author’s life. Nice one, Ian).June and Bernard get married just after WW2 but on their honeymoon in France, June has a traumatic experience with two black dogs. This event becomes a defining moment in their lives that marks a gradual separation, with June regarding it in mystical and religious terms, while Bernard remained a rationalist. June retreated to France a few years after the attack, to write and paint and live a hermit’s life, while Bernard remained in London and became something of a media personality.In an effort to understand what happened, Jeremy followed both of their lives closely, and returns to the black dog scene four times: in conversations with June and with Bernard, again on his own and in a final chapter where more details of the event are revealed.What I found unsatisfactory was this: why would the attack be such a defining moment and lead to a separation for over 40 years, even though June and Bernard remained in love? It isn’t explored, and we learn little about the rest of their lives, except for two current episodes: Jeremy visits June in her nursing home shortly before her death, and Jeremy accompanies Bernard to Europe at the time the Berlin Wall is coming down. That’s about it. If it had been a real autobiography then you could understand the gap, and such is the power of McEwan’s writing that I tended to forget that it wasn’t. But the attack is so obviously an allegory about good and evil that when the details are finally revealed, it is – well not quite an anticlimax, because it is horrible – but, there’s nothing to follow:“June told me that throughout her life she sometimes used to see them ... running down the path into the Gorge of the Vis, the bigger one trailing blood on the white stones ... fading as they move into the foothills of the mountains from where they will return to haunt us, somewhere in Europe, in another time.”
What do You think about Black Dogs (1998)?
Not one of my favorites from Ian McEwan, although as I love a few of them, that is likely a compliment... I only found this to only be alright. I felt I only partially knew the characters; their stories were only partially told. The title refers to what the main character's mother-in-law saw as a symbol of all that was bad & wrong in the world; in the end, it was what changed her life forever. She became a different person, becoming religious, etcetera. Supposedly they were once used by foreign authorities to intimidate the locals, even once (yes) used to rape a young woman. Ian McEwan writes, as always, with a simplicity that is somehow also graceful. His words can be picturesque, often describing emotional situations with such insight I have no idea how he does it. As always, he addresses dark topics, rape, Communism, The Cold War, Nazis, The Berlin Wall, etcetera, with mastery. This one, however, was more of a novella that did not seem substantial by the end at all. His others of this size, most notable Amsterdam, The Comfort of Strangers, I found much better.
—Vonia
I quite liked this -- like it much more, in fact, than the reviews of my GR friends led me to expect I would. It is richly packed with ideas and character into what is almost only a novella in length, and I found the ending to be particularly strong and well prepared by what had gone before. The book is not flawless, there are technical weaknesses early on -- that is, the craftsmanship sometimes shows -- and there are passages where the 'debate' becomes a bit ham-handed..., but the fundamental insight into the nature of evil and its implications is haunting and effecively conveyed. This is a very good book, and while it is easy to dismiss McEwan as Lit-lite (and there may be some truth in that), the few hours it takes to read this story were not wasted.
—AC
While Ian McEwan continues to be one of my favorite authors, his book 'Black Dogs' was not my favorite book of his.The title apparently comes from the name that Winston Churchill bestowed on his depressions. As used in this book it actually seemed to signify something more evil and irrational, "civilization's worst moods." McEwan applied this metaphor into a meditation on Europe's past and future. McEwan used a fictional family (Bernard and June Tremaine) to demonstrate the impact time past has over time present.Several times I was actually confused about some events not really knowing whether they were real, fantasy or a metaphor for something else.At the end I was left somewhat unsatisfied but with no regrets for having read it.I recommend it to anyone who really likes Ian McEwan’s writing and is patient.
—Dina
