I recently encountered Ian McEwan for the first time, in the form of an audiobook of The Children Act lent to me by my mother and very sternly read by a woman called Lindsay Duncan, CBE.
It’s relentlessly depressing so far. But some light relief came from an unexpected quarter: McEwan’s descriptions of people. Continue reading “The strange concurrence of small feet in some of my favourite novels and one I don’t like”
