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    The Cement Garden (Vintage Books) (Paperback) By (author) Ian McEwan

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    DescriptionIn the relentless summer heat, four abruptly orphaned children retreat into a shadowy, isolated world, and find their own strange and unsettling ways of fending for themselves...


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  • Full bibliographic data for The Cement Garden

    Title
    The Cement Garden
    Authors and contributors
    By (author) Ian McEwan
    Physical properties
    Format: Paperback
    Number of pages: 144
    Width: 130 mm
    Height: 196 mm
    Thickness: 12 mm
    Weight: 120 g
    Language
    English
    ISBN
    ISBN 13: 9780099755111
    ISBN 10: 0099755114
    Classifications

    BIC E4L: GEN
    Nielsen BookScan Product Class 3: F1.1
    LC subject heading:
    DC22: 823.914
    BIC subject category V2: FA
    Libri: ENGL3010, ENGM1010
    LC subject heading:
    Warengruppen-Systematik des deutschen Buchhandels: 21110
    LC subject heading:
    BISAC V2.8: FIC000000
    Thema V1.0: FBA
    BIC E4L: GNR
    Publisher
    VINTAGE
    Imprint name
    VINTAGE
    Publication date
    13 June 2000
    Publication City/Country
    London
    Author Information
    Ian McEwan is the author of two collections of stories and twelve previous novels, including Enduring Love, Amsterdam, for which he won the Booker Prize in 1998, Atonement and, most recently, Solar.
    Review quote
    "A macabre but unforgettable tale" -- John Boyne Guardian "Darkly impressive" The Times "Marvellously creates the atmosphere of youngsters given that instant adulthood they all crave, where the ordinary takes on a mysterious glow and the extraordinary seems rather commonplace. It is difficult to fault the writing or the construction of this eerie fable" Sunday Times "An extremely assured, technically adept and compelling piece of work" Observer "A shocking book, morbid, full of repellant imagery - and irresistibly readable...The effect achieved by McEwan's quiet, precise and sensuous touch is that of magic realism - a transfiguration of the ordinary that has far stronger retinal and visceral impact than the flabby surrealism of so many experimental novels" New York Review of Books
    Review text
    There can be nothing but praise for how Ian McEwan writes: in his short stories (First Love, Last Rites, 1975) and in this new novella, he glories in the secret of how uninflected, almost unbearably lean, plain prose can grip, can scream without a single exclamation point. What McEwan writes is perhaps less cause for dancing in the streets. Here he returns to some of the adolescent preoccupations that peeked through the stories - masturbation, sibling sex - and, though all this is handled with impeccable taste and invested with authentic bitter-sweetness, one longs for adult material to match the fully matured style. Still, except for one aggressively Oedipal coincidence and an incestuous finale, The Cement Garden's adolescent sensibility works, on its own terms, quietly and stunningly. The Oedipal coincidence: acne-infested, broody narrator Jack, second oldest of four children, has his first ejaculation just as his frail father drops dead outside - father has been surrounding their English urban house with an even plane of concrete to cover the dirt and grass. With father gone and mother taking to her bed, the children - Jack, older Julie, younger Sue, little Tom - tussle for power, for each other's affection, and for attention from their mother, who has tired of doctors and one day quietly dies in bed. As in so many similar stories, the children fear being separated and so bury mother in the cellar, surrounding her with wet cement left over from father's weird concrete project. Now parentless, the house fills with debris and the children deteroriate: Julie attracts a pool-shark beau; Sue drifts off into reveries about mother; Tom wants to be a girl (his sisters approve and dress him up); Jack becomes obsessed with a science-fiction novel, a gutted nearby hi-rise, and masturbation. Only Jack and Julie's ultimate sexual coming-together - which, seen by the furious boyfriend, brings on the end of the children's closed-off world - seems staged for effect. And, most impressive of all, this grim little tale is somehow suffused with light and warmth. Having worked such wonders with such intrinsically stunted material, McEwan calls attention to his undeniable talent. If he and his characters can stretch to measure up to that prose, we may be watching a major novelist in the making. (Kirkus Reviews)