Perowne makes his way to his weekly squash game through London streets filled with hundreds of thousands of anti-war protestors. A minor car accident brings him into a confrontation with Baxter, a fidgety, aggressive, young man, on the edge of violence. To Perowne's professional eye, there... show more
Perowne makes his way to his weekly squash game through London streets filled with hundreds of thousands of anti-war protestors. A minor car accident brings him into a confrontation with Baxter, a fidgety, aggressive, young man, on the edge of violence. To Perowne's professional eye, there appears to be something profoundly wrong with him.
Publish date: 2006
Pages no: 279
Edition language: English
, European Literature
, British Literature
, Book Club
, Adult Fiction
, Literary Fiction
This book! This book is about to go flying across the room, oooppps there it went!There is just to effing much wrong with this. I feel like the author has been speaking down to me the entire book!To be fair the argument of going to war with Iraq was well thought out, and executed; just to be shot to...
I noticed reading other reviews that the one that gave SATURDAY a one or two star review said for one reason or another that they "could" not or did not finish the book. I can see why they did not see the greatness of the book in that circumstance. I have never read a book like this before now. It w...
Saturday, February 15, 2003. Henry Perowne is a contented man, a successful neurosurgeon, the devoted husband of Rosalind and the proud father of two grown-up children, one a promising poet, the other a talented blues musician. Unusually, he wakes before dawn, drawn to the window of his bedroom and ...
Just saving some quotes:p. 127"It was once convenient to think biblically, to believe we're surrounded for our benefit by edible automata on land and sea. Now it turns out that even fish can feel pain. This is the growing complication of the modern condition, the expanding circle of moral sympathy."...
Ian McEwan is my favorite author I have to hate. when I was 17-19, I despised most of all "weak tea" poets and writers: people whose dealt with middle-age, old-age, their dog, their cat. since then, I have grown to understand there are gradations within this sort of work, but McEwan always feels "ri...