The magus of Fitzrovia

Matthew d'Ancona

04 April 2007

‘I didn’t decide [on the title] until the end, actually, and at that point on the computer I just called it “Seaside Novella” or something bland like that. Maybe I just called it “Short Novel”, I can’t remember. But inevitably, once I did call it that, I thought back that maybe it is a sort of resumption. I don’t think the novel would have made any sense if it had been set in a little hotel in the Midlands, or inland anywhere. It had to be on the sea.’

Much of the novel’s imagery — ‘the matter lay between them, as solid as a geographical feature’ — as well as its physical context is supplied by landscape. He calls the beach ‘a stage projected into the water’ where a terrible human drama is played out.

‘Landscapes are so powerful, I think, to people in love,’ he says. ‘To be in a landscape in love — I mean, the city obviously has its attractions, too, but there is something that I remember as thrilling to be in love in a beautiful place where all those pathetic fallacies really do reign.’

All who know the novelist attest to the personal happiness and peace that he has enjoyed since marrying his second wife, the journalist and author, Annalena McAfee, ten years ago. Arnold’s poem ends on a famously pessimistic note, whereas McEwan, a humanist to the last, concludes by celebrating the healing power of ‘love and patience’ — even if it is too late for Florence and Edward.

‘If only he had spoken up — a word or a gesture — but he understands that, that’s the difference, I suppose. Anyway, his life hasn’t added up to much, but it’s not tragic, and we can assume that hers was at least a success professionally. I spent a long time thinking that, actually, I had to make her disappear from the last pages or else we wouldn’t miss her in the way he does. She has to be off-stage, she has to just be an unseen box, a collection of Schubert or Beethoven.’