Amsterdam Review

There are some elements of McEwan’s Amsterdam which could be considered appealing and absorbing. Telling the story of Clive, Britain’s most successful modern composer, and Vernon, the editor of The Judge, as they each make a dangerously immoral decision that pushes their friendship to its breaking point, it is clear that characterisation is where this Booker Prize winning novel excels. The two protagonists are portrayed as heartless and indifferent, yet it could be argued that McEwan allows us to feel empathy for their motivations. Some may also find enjoyment from the novel’s ending because it satisfies a long running subplot in a clever manner. However, for most readers, these admirable aspects to Amsterdam are small glimmers of quality in what is otherwise a poorly structured novel with a ludicrous plot.

Some readers may argue that the ending of the novel is an entertaining conclusion with an unexpected and shocking plot twist. Earlier in the novel, Clive requests Vernon to “help me to die” if he were to suffer a terminal illness, thus averting the “helplessness” of Molly’s death. Vernon agrees on the condition that Clive does the same. This pact between them becomes subverted by McEwan in a cleverly ironic manner. By the end of the novel, each protagonist causes the death of the other as promised, except they are fuelled by a murderous desire for revenge, rather than a compassion to euthanise their ill friend. The deaths are a satisfyingly just way for these morally corrupt characters to die. After Clive defies his “moral duty” and allows an attempted rape to take place, and Vernon’s “spiteful” decision to publish pictures of the foreign secretary, Garmony, in drag, we as readers feel nothing but contempt and disgust for these characters. Thus, we as readers are pleased that both protagonists are punishments for their morally repulsive behaviour. However, to a much greater extent, the ending proves to be too contrived and ridiculous to satisfy any reader. The “fury that drove” Clive to murder is the fact Vernon distracted him from completing his symphony. Vernon’s motivations prove to be just as shallow: after being humiliated for sharing the photos of the foreign secretary, he is angry that Clive escapes retribution for his “outrageous” behaviour. It is impossible to sympathise with both protagonists because their motives are so laughably superficial. Many readers are not left shocked by this plot twist because the motives behind each murder are not relatable at all. Both protagonists are so frivolous in their drive to kill that the entire ending becomes absurd. McEwan thus sacrifices logic and the novel’s integrity for the sake of a plot twist.

Nevertheless, the characterisation of Vernon and Clive could be considered complex, making it interesting and enticing for the reader. Despite their morally abhorrent behaviour, it is clear these characters display very human characteristics following Molly’s death. They both appear greatly distressed to hear about “poor Molly!”. The language both characters use to describe her is always positive and elevated- “beautiful”, “gorgeous wit”, “a lovely girl”. This language of extolment and approval suggests they both thought very highly of her; they believe she is “worthy” of all the praise they bestow upon her. The fact both attend her funeral and dream of their “darling” before their death also evidences, to a greater extent, their passionate love for her. Thus, McEwan does add the very human emotion of love, and grief for a lost loved one, to these otherwise heartless characters. It adds an extra dimension and complexity to their presentation, making them more interesting for the reader. However, a much greater reading suggests that none of these characters are redeemable at all; there is nothing about these characters that we can approve of. Despite demonstrating their love for Molly, these utterly detestable characters are heartless and indifferent throughout the novel. After choosing “revenge” over friendship, it becomes clear for the reader that these characters are disloyal and untrustworthy as they distort their original pact to euthanise each other. Vernon is presented as even more treacherous when he “crapped on Molly’s grave” by using her photos of Garmony in his newspaper. McEwan does not emphasise their loving qualities enough throughout the novel to create substantial empathy for Vernon or Clive. When you consider the fact that all of the other characters are one dimensional plot devices with no depth, and that the principal characters are so loathsome, it becomes clear that this is a novel with no characters for the reader to root for. Without admirable characters, there is little reason for any reader to engage with this novel.

The most substantial flaw of this novel is its awful structuring, which isolates the reader from the plot profoundly. Dissimilarly to McEwan’s fantastic novels Enduring Love and Atonement, there is no dramatic event to grab hold of our attention at the opening. Rather than a balloon accident, we are first introduced to two dislikeable characters as they discuss how “terrible” their circumstances are. Furthermore, McEwan structures the rest of the narrative in a very jolted manner that lacks the rhythm and flow of his other works. McEwan chooses to follow Clive, for a few chapters, as he creates his “masterpiece”. Before we can truly connect with him and admire his ambitions, McEwan will swiftly change the focus of the narration so that we are following Vernon’s story instead. The structure of the novel thus becomes very erratic and uneven. Whilst it could be argued that this is a clever use of structuring, as it disconnects us from the two protagonists and prevents us feeling sympathy, this is not the case. It is a structuring technique that is so overused by McEwan that we are not just withdrawn from the characters; we are prevented from engaging with the entire plot itself. After finishing Amsterdam, many readers may be left questioning which is the most illogical: McEwan’s use of structuring in the novel, or Vernon’s ludicrous decision to withhold the compromising pictures of Garmony from publication.

There are many positive aspects to McEwan’s Booker Prize winning novel. The characterisation of both protagonists can often be complex and intricate, enticing the reader in. For some, the novel’s ending may satisfy, entertain and shock as it concludes a key subplot in an unpredictable way. However, these aspects are completely overshadowed by disastrous structuring, a ludicrous plot and a lack of pleasant characters we can engage with as the novel progresses. Compared to his other works, Amsterdam is an extremely flawed novel lacking in the quality that would justify a second read. If you have never read an Ian McEwan novel before, do not read this one first. It will give you little motivation to read his marvellous novels Atonement and Enduring Love. Do not let the fact this novel won the Booker Prize fool you. Amsterdam was awarded it undeservedly.