Status
Available
Call number
Genres
Publication
Vintage Canada (2015), 240 pages
Description
"Fiona Maye is a High Court judge in London presiding over cases in family court. She is fiercely intelligent, well respected, and deeply immersed in the nuances of her particular field of law. Often the outcome of a case seems simple from the outside, the course of action to ensure a child's welfare obvious. But the law requires more rigor than mere pragmatism, and Fiona is expert in considering the sensitivities of culture and religion when handing down her verdicts. But Fiona's professional success belies domestic strife. Her husband, Jack, asks her to consider an open marriage and, after an argument, moves out of their house. His departure leaves her adrift, wondering whether it was not love she had lost so much as a modern form of respectability; whether it was not contempt and ostracism she really fears. She decides to throw herself into her work, especially a complex case involving a seventeen-year-old boy whose parents will not permit a lifesaving blood transfusion because it conflicts with their beliefs as Jehovah's Witnesses. But Jack doesn't leave her thoughts, and the pressure to resolve the case--as well as her crumbling marriage--tests Fiona in ways that will keep readers thoroughly enthralled until the last stunning page"--… (more)
Media reviews
Ian McEwan, master of obsession, fumbles with his latest, The Children Act
McEwan, always a smart, engaging writer, here takes more than one familiar situation and creates at every turn something new and emotionally rewarding in a way he hasn’t done so well since On Chesil Beach (2007).
Although thrillingly close to the child within us, McEwan nonetheless writes for, and about, the grown-ups. In a climate that breeds juvenile cynicism, we more than ever need his adult art.
User reviews
LibraryThing member Cariola
McEwan's latest novel initially had me captivated, but something--mainly, my interest--got a little lost along the way. Fiona Maye, a British judge who decides cases involving child welfare, has just reached a number of difficult and controversial decisions. One concerned the custody of two young
For in the midst of all this, Fiona's marriage has begun to fall apart. Her husband announces that, with her permission, he would like to have an affair while he is still capable, complaining that she has no interest in sex and is just no fun anymore. He also feels that she has become closed off and is keeping things to herself that he wishes she would share. Fiona begins to contemplate the past: what she has given up for the sake of her career, including having children of her own.
In some ways, I would have been happier had the novel ended with Fiona's decision, or perhaps with Adam's letter in response to it. But, as is usual for McEwan, things take a detour that is a bit off kilter. Of course, this leads to more self-analysis on Fiona's part--another hallmark of McEwan's work. In this regard, The Children Act is somewhat reminiscent of another brief novel, On Chesil Beach.
All in all, this was an engaging read up to the rather muddled, unsatisfactory conclusion. Definitely worth reading, but not among McEwan's best. If you haven't read [Atonement] or [On Chesil Beach], pick those up first.
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girls whose parents belong to a strict Jewish sect. Unable to bear more children, the mother enrolled in open university classes and began to pursue a career, becoming more "worldly" in the process, much to the dismay of her husband. The second was the case of conjoined twins, one of whom could survive if they were separated; if not, both were doomed to die. The hospital asked the court to intervene because the parents believed that whatever happened was God's will. Now, sitting on her desk, is yet another difficult case. Adam Henry, just three months shy of his majority (18), suffers from leukemia, but he and his parents, who are Jehovah's Witnesses, reject the blood transfusions that could save his life. In making her decision, Fiona tries to keep focused strictly on the letter of the law, the sanctity of individual faith, and the welfare of the child in question. However, her ability to keep her professional life separate from her personal life quavers when she meets Adam, a sensitive, self-assured, intelligent young man.For in the midst of all this, Fiona's marriage has begun to fall apart. Her husband announces that, with her permission, he would like to have an affair while he is still capable, complaining that she has no interest in sex and is just no fun anymore. He also feels that she has become closed off and is keeping things to herself that he wishes she would share. Fiona begins to contemplate the past: what she has given up for the sake of her career, including having children of her own.
In some ways, I would have been happier had the novel ended with Fiona's decision, or perhaps with Adam's letter in response to it. But, as is usual for McEwan, things take a detour that is a bit off kilter. Of course, this leads to more self-analysis on Fiona's part--another hallmark of McEwan's work. In this regard, The Children Act is somewhat reminiscent of another brief novel, On Chesil Beach.
All in all, this was an engaging read up to the rather muddled, unsatisfactory conclusion. Definitely worth reading, but not among McEwan's best. If you haven't read [Atonement] or [On Chesil Beach], pick those up first.
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LibraryThing member Lori_Eshleman
Ian McEwan's new novel, The Children Act, revisits one of his favorite themes: how a messy encounter with a stranger can crack open and reshape the lives of privileged people. In this case the protagonist is a highly successful female judge who is in a long, but childless, marriage. The novel opens
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with her husband threatening an affair. McEwan's rhythmic prose captures the patterns in the judge's life, from her morning preparations and processes of walking to and from work, to the intimate rituals in a long marriage, to the details of the judge's cases in family court. McEwan enlivens the narrative with surprising references, such as "she turned right toward her broad landing onto which the doors of many High Court judges faced--like an advent calendar, she sometimes thought" (50). The cases themselves are interesting, underscoring the judge's reasoned judgements as well as the emotional scarring caused by certain cases. Her newest case concerns a precocious young man who is refusing a blood transfusion because of religious beliefs. The scenes between Fiona and the young man are poignant, intense and unscripted, in contrast to her usual life. Throughout the novel, belief and disbelief, reason and emotion, alternate. Music forms an underlying theme, whether Fiona's love of classical music and piano, her husband of jazz, or the young man who is just learning the violin. And at critical moments, the words and laments of a ballad. In the course of this very readable book, both Fiona and the reader learn that there are no choices without consequences--and redemption itself comes with a cost. Show Less
LibraryThing member TheLostEntwife
There are three types of books I enjoy reading and, as a result, there's generally three types of authors that go along with those books. Sometimes an author will cross over and write something that dabbles a little bit (or jumps completely into) one of those other two types of books, but generally
Read the rest of this review at The Lost Entwife on Sept. 8, 2014.
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speaking, they stick to what's been done before under their name. One of those types of books (and authors) I really enjoy employs beautiful language and a storytelling ability that transcends everything else. When I read this type of book I can feel my world view expanding and my thoughts and ideas and preconceptions being challenged and tested. Ian McEwan writes books that not only deliver a sucker punch to my gut, but makes me grateful for being there to get punched in the first place. THE CHILDREN ACT delivered yet another punch and, while it didn't hurt as much as ATONEMENT or SOLACE did, the after-effects are still rocking me a bit.Read the rest of this review at The Lost Entwife on Sept. 8, 2014.
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LibraryThing member TooBusyReading
What a powerful punch is packed into not very many pages.
Fiona Maye is a High Court judge, expected to make quick life-or-death decisions while her own life is falling apart, and we see the story from her point of view. She is coping, barely.
This modern novel is about moral dilemmas, about personal
I especially enjoyed the look into the British court system, but the decisions that must be made are not unique to it. The Children Act is supposed to protect the well-being of children above other considerations, even those of the parents or children not able to make the decisions themselves/. Sometimes that is just not possible, and the novel makes come to life how difficult those quandaries can be.
There is nothing drawn out about this story, and it is all the more powerful for cutting to the chase. It is not a story I will soon forget.
Fiona Maye is a High Court judge, expected to make quick life-or-death decisions while her own life is falling apart, and we see the story from her point of view. She is coping, barely.
This modern novel is about moral dilemmas, about personal
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relationships, about the right decisions for both, and as in real life, there too often are no good answers.I especially enjoyed the look into the British court system, but the decisions that must be made are not unique to it. The Children Act is supposed to protect the well-being of children above other considerations, even those of the parents or children not able to make the decisions themselves/. Sometimes that is just not possible, and the novel makes come to life how difficult those quandaries can be.
There is nothing drawn out about this story, and it is all the more powerful for cutting to the chase. It is not a story I will soon forget.
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LibraryThing member Schmerguls
This novel involves an English judge who must decide whether to order a blood transfusion for a 17-year-old Jehovah Witness. That decision is of great interest and I will not set it out as such would spoil the story to some extent; The judge is also having marital trouble of her own, and locks her
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husband out of their home. The early part of the book I found extremely riveting, and some of what the judge does shows her ability well, even though a contrary holding would have been defensible (and I admit would have been my decision). Her handling of her own marital problem is also of great interest, even though she seemed not very eager to save her marriage. The book kind of fritters away in he later parts and I found it less appealing than I had hoped it would be. But it tells its story well and the prose is admirable. Show Less
LibraryThing member SamSattler
This is one of those rare times that I’ve both read a novel and listened to it in its entirety in audio book format. And I found the experiences to be very different ones. In the case of reading the physical book, even though the main character is a female high court judge in London, I did not
Fiona Maye has done quite well for herself. She is at the top of her profession as one of London’s family court high court judges and she feels good about the role she plays in helping clean up the messes that people so readily make of their lives and, more importantly to her, the lives of their innocent children. She and Jack, her husband, a professor of ancient history, have been married for thirty years and have settled into a rather comfortable lifestyle that both seem happy enough with – with perhaps their only regret being that they never had children. But, as Fiona will learn, she has overestimated her husband’s satisfaction with their situation.
The Mayes are an aging couple now, something that Jack seems to feel more intensely than Fiona. And what Jack wants more than anything else in the world is one “big passionate” love affair before it is forever too late for him to have one. But he does not want a divorce. Rather, he makes a plea for Fiona’s understanding and tacit approval of his one-time fling – she tosses him out the door and changes the locks.
In the midst of everything that is going on at home, Fiona is assigned a case that could define her entire career, that of a 17-year-old Jehovah’s Witness who is refusing the blood transfusion that could easily save him from what is an imminent death. Adam is in many ways, a special boy: beautiful and a talented musician, he is personable and curious beyond his years despite being rather naïve about life itself. Fiona, caught off guard by her reaction to Adam is faced with a legal decision that demands her objectivity. But whether or not she can remain objective is only one of the issues she is dealing with as she comes to realize that her decision, despite her good intentions, has the power to ruin not only Adam’s life but her own.
This is where I found a difference in my reaction to the written page and the recorded version of The Children Act. While reading the book, I found it a little difficult to believe that a woman of Fiona’s stature and experience would put everything at risk over one case. The audio book, on the other hand, gave me such a distinct sense of Fiona’s current vulnerability that I found her reaction to Adam and his plight to be not only believable but likely. It was almost like “reading” two different books.
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consistently “hear” her voice in my reading mind as that of a woman. (Keep in mind that, while the book is written in the third person, it is very much told from Fiona’s perspective.) Listening to the audio book, however, it is impossible to forget that Fiona Maye is an upper class British woman at the tail end of a rather powerful legal career. I will explain why that difference is important toward the end of this review.Fiona Maye has done quite well for herself. She is at the top of her profession as one of London’s family court high court judges and she feels good about the role she plays in helping clean up the messes that people so readily make of their lives and, more importantly to her, the lives of their innocent children. She and Jack, her husband, a professor of ancient history, have been married for thirty years and have settled into a rather comfortable lifestyle that both seem happy enough with – with perhaps their only regret being that they never had children. But, as Fiona will learn, she has overestimated her husband’s satisfaction with their situation.
The Mayes are an aging couple now, something that Jack seems to feel more intensely than Fiona. And what Jack wants more than anything else in the world is one “big passionate” love affair before it is forever too late for him to have one. But he does not want a divorce. Rather, he makes a plea for Fiona’s understanding and tacit approval of his one-time fling – she tosses him out the door and changes the locks.
In the midst of everything that is going on at home, Fiona is assigned a case that could define her entire career, that of a 17-year-old Jehovah’s Witness who is refusing the blood transfusion that could easily save him from what is an imminent death. Adam is in many ways, a special boy: beautiful and a talented musician, he is personable and curious beyond his years despite being rather naïve about life itself. Fiona, caught off guard by her reaction to Adam is faced with a legal decision that demands her objectivity. But whether or not she can remain objective is only one of the issues she is dealing with as she comes to realize that her decision, despite her good intentions, has the power to ruin not only Adam’s life but her own.
This is where I found a difference in my reaction to the written page and the recorded version of The Children Act. While reading the book, I found it a little difficult to believe that a woman of Fiona’s stature and experience would put everything at risk over one case. The audio book, on the other hand, gave me such a distinct sense of Fiona’s current vulnerability that I found her reaction to Adam and his plight to be not only believable but likely. It was almost like “reading” two different books.
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LibraryThing member librorumamans
The Children Act is a compelling read; I swallowed it more or less in one gulp. So, three stars for technique and flawless prose.
But beyond those two achievements, there is not a lot to recommend this novel. A structure that plays a tense domestic situation against a professional one full of legal
The book is nakedly manipulative. By this I mean that the emotions McEwan stimulates are in some sense imposed on the characters and so are imposed in turn on us. There is a musical thread running throughout the book that acts as a proxy for the main character's state, particularly if one is familiar with the works mentioned. This also is cinematic in that it provides the sound track for shepherding an audience into the desired emotional state. Fiona moves from Bach's second partita early on to finishing the book with Schubert, Mahler, and Britten's haunting setting of Yeats. From her mix tape we infer her emotional progress.
McEwan also relies on the notion that a vocalist and an accompanist enter into a form of transcendent intimacy that is a truer form of communion than language alone can accomplish. Ideally this is so in a performance; in fiction it is trite and suggests a lazy author. The novel's climax thus turns mawkish as Fiona, overwhelmed, rushes from the stage having brilliantly performed Britten's music for a tenor to sing Yeats's words, but hearing instead a poem in the same form and metre written solely for her that she has just begun to understand. This is cheap stuff.
But beyond those two achievements, there is not a lot to recommend this novel. A structure that plays a tense domestic situation against a professional one full of legal
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and ethical complexity is a stock formulation. It is ideal for cinema, and I suspect McEwan of putting together a work for publication that is pretty much as camera-ready as it could be without already being a screen play. In terms of fiction writing, he risks nothing and goes nowhere others have not been before.The book is nakedly manipulative. By this I mean that the emotions McEwan stimulates are in some sense imposed on the characters and so are imposed in turn on us. There is a musical thread running throughout the book that acts as a proxy for the main character's state, particularly if one is familiar with the works mentioned. This also is cinematic in that it provides the sound track for shepherding an audience into the desired emotional state. Fiona moves from Bach's second partita early on to finishing the book with Schubert, Mahler, and Britten's haunting setting of Yeats. From her mix tape we infer her emotional progress.
McEwan also relies on the notion that a vocalist and an accompanist enter into a form of transcendent intimacy that is a truer form of communion than language alone can accomplish. Ideally this is so in a performance; in fiction it is trite and suggests a lazy author. The novel's climax thus turns mawkish as Fiona, overwhelmed, rushes from the stage having brilliantly performed Britten's music for a tenor to sing Yeats's words, but hearing instead a poem in the same form and metre written solely for her that she has just begun to understand. This is cheap stuff.
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LibraryThing member Vicki_Weisfeld
There may be a reason justice is blind, and, in this novel, a woman. Fiona Maye is a British High Court family division judge who must decide, Solomon-like, some of the more wrenching issues of our time. How to proceed when an Englishwoman fears her five-year-old daughter will be spirited away to
Everyone in reach of the news media has an opinion about these cases, but only hers counts. She must be blind to distractions, keeping uppermost The Children Act of 1989, “which declares in its opening lines for the primacy of the child’s welfare.”
The Lord Chief Justice describes her as a woman with “Godly distance, devilish understanding, and still beautiful.” But that's insufficient on the home front. Fiona's husband has announced his desire to have an affair with a much-younger woman and doesn’t see why that should disrupt their marriage. Fiona’s legendary dispassionate judgment counts for nothing in this situation and is replaced by pure emotion. She throws him out and changes the locks—even though she knows the law wouldn’t back her up in this.
Into her roiling personal situation comes a new case, a 17-year-old son of Jehovah’s Witnesses has contracted a severe leukemia that will kill him unless he has a blood transfusion, which his religion disallows. His parents refuse. He refuses, too, though he’s not quite yet at the age of majority, so within Fiona’s purview. The hospital says it can save him. To establish whether the teenager’s views are what has been purported or whether he has been unduly influenced by his parents and church elders, she visits him in his sick-bed, and from there the pavers from Good Intentions Roadworks take over.
The Children Act is relatively short for a novel today, about two-thirds the typical length—“a svelte novel as crisp and spotless as a priest’s collar” says Washington Post reviewer Ron Charles. He also seems to believe it’s about Jehovah’s Witnesses, but it’s larger than that. Its subject is intractable dilemmas, hierarchies of belief, and unintended consequences. It is the unnavigable intersection between law and blind faith. So there we have it: faith and justice, each blind to the other, fighting primacy, blood everywhere on the ground.
McEwan is a beautiful writer, with a compelling yet accessible style, even for the weighty issues explored here. This is a portion of his simple, vivid description of Adam Henry, the boy needing the transfusion: “It was a long thin face, ghoulishly pale, but beautiful, with crescents of bruised purple fading delicately to white under the eyes, and full lips that appeared purplish too in the intense light. The eyes themselves looked violet and were huge.”
McEwan gives us realistic characters grappling with significant problems that require them to probe every inch of their humanity and interrogate every motivation. Something to both think about and feel. And when I reached the end, I had to wonder whether he meant the last word of the book’s title as a noun, or in Adam Henry’s case, is it a verb?
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Morocco by her strict Muslim father, then is? What to do when a pair of conjoined twins must be separated or both will die, but if they are separated, one will surely die? The hospital urgently wants to separate them, but the devoutly Catholic parents refuse to sanction murder. Everyone in reach of the news media has an opinion about these cases, but only hers counts. She must be blind to distractions, keeping uppermost The Children Act of 1989, “which declares in its opening lines for the primacy of the child’s welfare.”
The Lord Chief Justice describes her as a woman with “Godly distance, devilish understanding, and still beautiful.” But that's insufficient on the home front. Fiona's husband has announced his desire to have an affair with a much-younger woman and doesn’t see why that should disrupt their marriage. Fiona’s legendary dispassionate judgment counts for nothing in this situation and is replaced by pure emotion. She throws him out and changes the locks—even though she knows the law wouldn’t back her up in this.
Into her roiling personal situation comes a new case, a 17-year-old son of Jehovah’s Witnesses has contracted a severe leukemia that will kill him unless he has a blood transfusion, which his religion disallows. His parents refuse. He refuses, too, though he’s not quite yet at the age of majority, so within Fiona’s purview. The hospital says it can save him. To establish whether the teenager’s views are what has been purported or whether he has been unduly influenced by his parents and church elders, she visits him in his sick-bed, and from there the pavers from Good Intentions Roadworks take over.
The Children Act is relatively short for a novel today, about two-thirds the typical length—“a svelte novel as crisp and spotless as a priest’s collar” says Washington Post reviewer Ron Charles. He also seems to believe it’s about Jehovah’s Witnesses, but it’s larger than that. Its subject is intractable dilemmas, hierarchies of belief, and unintended consequences. It is the unnavigable intersection between law and blind faith. So there we have it: faith and justice, each blind to the other, fighting primacy, blood everywhere on the ground.
McEwan is a beautiful writer, with a compelling yet accessible style, even for the weighty issues explored here. This is a portion of his simple, vivid description of Adam Henry, the boy needing the transfusion: “It was a long thin face, ghoulishly pale, but beautiful, with crescents of bruised purple fading delicately to white under the eyes, and full lips that appeared purplish too in the intense light. The eyes themselves looked violet and were huge.”
McEwan gives us realistic characters grappling with significant problems that require them to probe every inch of their humanity and interrogate every motivation. Something to both think about and feel. And when I reached the end, I had to wonder whether he meant the last word of the book’s title as a noun, or in Adam Henry’s case, is it a verb?
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LibraryThing member bfister
A judge has to decide a difficult case about a boy just months from the age of consent who might die without a blood transfusion - something his religious beliefs as a Jehovah's Witness forbids. She makes her decision, he undergoes a kind of conversion to secularism and ... stuff happens.
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Beautifully written but a bit irritatingly self-absorbed in the end. Show Less
LibraryThing member varwenea
“When a court determines any question with respect to the upbringing of a child… the child’s welfare shall be the court’s paramount consideration.” – Section I(A), The Children Act, 1989
Fiona Maye is a leading High Court judge presiding in the family court. She faces the most complex
This book has powerful and controversial subjects – religion, the law and its interpretations, working women and childlessness, infidelity, parental influences, suicide, and children sufferings. This book read simpler and less lyrical than some of the other McEwan books though not to say it doesn’t have its zingers. With the heavy themes, I appreciated the controlled tone. With religion (a tightly controlled sec) being a major theme, McEwan used words that evoked 1984 (Orwell). I sort of smiled and thought, “Oh, he went there!”
The ding on this book is its predictable conclusion. But then again, it was also the most logical conclusion; it ended as it should have, not sugar coated, not excessively dramatic either. Along the way, I thought of veterans returning from war and prisoners leaving jail. Read the book and let me know if these thoughts make sense. :)
Some Quotes:
On possessions – I want to chuck everything out sometimes too:
“… a tiny Renoir lithograph of a bather, bought by her thirty years ago for fifty pounds… Below it, centered on a round walnut table, a blue vase. No memory of how she came by it. Nor when she last put flowers in it... A Bokhara rug spread on wide polished floorboards. Looming at the edge of vision, a baby grand piano bearing silver-framed family photos on its deep black shine. On the floor by the chaise longue, within her reach, the draft of a judgment. And Fiona was on her back, wishing all this stuff at the bottom of the sea.”
On long marriages:
“… Didn’t you once tell me that couples in long marriages aspire to the condition of siblings? We’ve arrived, Fiona. I’ve become your brother. It’s cozy and sweet and I love you, but before I drop dead, I want one big passionate affair.”
On childlessness:
“Yes, her childlessness was a fugue in itself, a flight – this was the habitual theme she was trying now to resist – a flight from her proper destiny. Her failure to become a woman, as her mother understood the term. How she arrived at her state was a slow-patterned counterpoint played out with Jack over two decades, dissonances appearing, then retreating, always reintroduced by her in moments of alarm, even horror, as the fertile years slipped by until they were gone, and she was almost too busy to notice.”
On hospitals – this is classic McEwan:
“…The long straight run of an escalator brought them to a mezzanine, where a bookshop, florist, newsagent, gift shop and business center were ranged around a fountain. New Age music, airy and unmodulating, merged with the sound of tinkling water. The model was, of course, the modern airport. With altered destinations.”
“Down by the Salley Gardens” – Yeats:
“In a field by the river my love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;
But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.”
On religion:
“Why replace one tooth fairy with another?”
Fiona Maye is a leading High Court judge presiding in the family court. She faces the most complex
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life altering cases – giving judgements that may redefine the course of a child forever, or in some cases life or death where medical jurisdiction is involved. By the third page of the story, I concluded she has one of the most soul-sucking jobs on earth, and sure enough, she doesn’t always sleep well due to the ghosts of these cases. The book’s primary case centers on Adam Henry, who at 3 months away from the legal adult age of 18 has declined blood transfusion due to his faith, and it was up to Fiona to decide for his (and parents’) wishes or the doctor’s. This book has powerful and controversial subjects – religion, the law and its interpretations, working women and childlessness, infidelity, parental influences, suicide, and children sufferings. This book read simpler and less lyrical than some of the other McEwan books though not to say it doesn’t have its zingers. With the heavy themes, I appreciated the controlled tone. With religion (a tightly controlled sec) being a major theme, McEwan used words that evoked 1984 (Orwell). I sort of smiled and thought, “Oh, he went there!”
The ding on this book is its predictable conclusion. But then again, it was also the most logical conclusion; it ended as it should have, not sugar coated, not excessively dramatic either. Along the way, I thought of veterans returning from war and prisoners leaving jail. Read the book and let me know if these thoughts make sense. :)
Some Quotes:
On possessions – I want to chuck everything out sometimes too:
“… a tiny Renoir lithograph of a bather, bought by her thirty years ago for fifty pounds… Below it, centered on a round walnut table, a blue vase. No memory of how she came by it. Nor when she last put flowers in it... A Bokhara rug spread on wide polished floorboards. Looming at the edge of vision, a baby grand piano bearing silver-framed family photos on its deep black shine. On the floor by the chaise longue, within her reach, the draft of a judgment. And Fiona was on her back, wishing all this stuff at the bottom of the sea.”
On long marriages:
“… Didn’t you once tell me that couples in long marriages aspire to the condition of siblings? We’ve arrived, Fiona. I’ve become your brother. It’s cozy and sweet and I love you, but before I drop dead, I want one big passionate affair.”
On childlessness:
“Yes, her childlessness was a fugue in itself, a flight – this was the habitual theme she was trying now to resist – a flight from her proper destiny. Her failure to become a woman, as her mother understood the term. How she arrived at her state was a slow-patterned counterpoint played out with Jack over two decades, dissonances appearing, then retreating, always reintroduced by her in moments of alarm, even horror, as the fertile years slipped by until they were gone, and she was almost too busy to notice.”
On hospitals – this is classic McEwan:
“…The long straight run of an escalator brought them to a mezzanine, where a bookshop, florist, newsagent, gift shop and business center were ranged around a fountain. New Age music, airy and unmodulating, merged with the sound of tinkling water. The model was, of course, the modern airport. With altered destinations.”
“Down by the Salley Gardens” – Yeats:
“In a field by the river my love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;
But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.”
On religion:
“Why replace one tooth fairy with another?”
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LibraryThing member BonnieP
They say that Ian McEwan is the finest writer of English novels today and I would have to agree. This is my fourth of his that I have read and I have loved them all. There is something raw about them that resonantes with me to make me "feel" what he is saying. His books make you think and identify
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with what you might do ( or may have done) if faced with a similar scenario in your life. What he writes about certainly could happen to you I think as was so eloquently laid out in The Children Act. A marriage in trouble, a highly successful wife who was pouring all her energies into her demanding, urgent profession of lawyer/judge and had no time, energy or immediate inclination to face her home life problems, client cases that were so depleting when she knew that her decisions affected people's lives and in particular the story of her case of judging the Jehovah Witness family's fate; all so beautifully laid out for one to savour. I loved it! Maybe it was a bit melancholic and a bit sad, but to me, overall a real feel good read. Beautiful prose written by a great author. Show Less
LibraryThing member justacatandabook
I'm not exactly sure how I feel about "The Children Act." I didn't particularly like it or dislike it. In the beginning, the novel seems to be the story of Fiona, a high up respected family court judge in London, and her husband, Jack, who comes to her, asking for an open marriage.
However, the
By the end of the novel, without revealing the ending, I felt a bit deflated, and left wondering why I'd read the story to begin with. It was certainly well written, but it seemed a bit pointless at times, and I didn't find Fiona or her husband that likable, and didn't get to learn enough about Adam or anyone in her other cases.
However, the
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story quickly drifts away from that thread and is pulled abruptly toward Fiona and her cases, particularly a 17-year-old boy, Adam, a Jehovah's Witness, who has leukemia. He needs a blood transfusion, which goes against his religion (and that of his parents). It's an interesting case, and Adam makes for an intriguing character (via the snippets we learn of him), but we never really get to understand quite why Adam grows to have such power over Fiona. By the end of the novel, without revealing the ending, I felt a bit deflated, and left wondering why I'd read the story to begin with. It was certainly well written, but it seemed a bit pointless at times, and I didn't find Fiona or her husband that likable, and didn't get to learn enough about Adam or anyone in her other cases.
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LibraryThing member rmckeown
Booker Prize-winning author, Ian McEwan’s sixteenth novel, The Children Act, again delves deeply into the human psyche. He spares no feelings, leaves no secrets unrevealed, in an attempt to demonstrate the difficult decisions we must make throughout our lives.
Fiona Maye holds a seat on the
Meanwhile, the childless Fiona navigates the tangled difficulties of the case while her own marriage disintegrates. Her husband, Jack, has decided the passion has gone out of their marriage, and wants a fling to experience what he and Fiona had in their early days together. She has an amazing ability to separate her personal and professional lives. While she thinks of Jack when she is off the bench, no thought of him intrudes while she hears cases and deliberates.
McEwan’s prose, in this short novel, will not let the reader’s mind stray. He writes, “Among fellow judges, Fiona Maye was praised, even in her absence, for crisp prose, almost ironic, almost warm, and for the compact terms in which she laid out a dispute. The Lord Chief Justice himself was heard to observe of her in a murmured aside at lunch, ‘Godly distance, devilish understanding, and still beautiful.’ Her own view was that with each passing year she inclined a little more to an exactitude some might have called pedantry, to the unassailable definition that might pass one day into frequent citation’” [in law journals] (15).
As do many members of the judiciary, she must walk a razor thin line in the case. Fiona does so with aplomb, confidence, and clarity. Her musings on the case explore the situation from all angles. McEwan writes, “On the other side of the city a teenager confronted with death for his own parents’ beliefs. It was not her business or mission to save him, but to decide what was reasonable and lawful. She would have liked to see this boy for herself, remove herself from a domestic morass, as well from the courtroom, for an hour or two, take a journey, immerse herself in the intricacies, fashion a judgment formed by her own observations” (36). She does visit him, and the two share a tender moment. She returns to the courtroom and renders a decision.
Ian McEwan has a marvelous talent for spinning a story, and The Children Act is an impressive addition to his works, and surely will add to the staggering list of literary awards he has already received. I believe a double meaning lurks in the title. 5 stars
--Jim, 9/21/14
Fiona Maye holds a seat on the
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English Court dealing with domestic issues of marriage, divorce, alimony, child support, and the welfare of children. The Children Act of the title refers to a set of laws first passed in England in 1989 and updated in 2004. The paramount consideration is the welfare and best interests of the child. Before her sit the parents of Adam, who suffers from a rare, but treatable form of leukemia. The boy is 3 months shy of his 18th birthday, and thus considered by the act of not being capable of refusing treatment. His parents and Adam belong to Jehovah’s Witnesses, whose beliefs include the refusal of blood transfusions. The drugs for Adam’s disease cannot work without the transfusion.Meanwhile, the childless Fiona navigates the tangled difficulties of the case while her own marriage disintegrates. Her husband, Jack, has decided the passion has gone out of their marriage, and wants a fling to experience what he and Fiona had in their early days together. She has an amazing ability to separate her personal and professional lives. While she thinks of Jack when she is off the bench, no thought of him intrudes while she hears cases and deliberates.
McEwan’s prose, in this short novel, will not let the reader’s mind stray. He writes, “Among fellow judges, Fiona Maye was praised, even in her absence, for crisp prose, almost ironic, almost warm, and for the compact terms in which she laid out a dispute. The Lord Chief Justice himself was heard to observe of her in a murmured aside at lunch, ‘Godly distance, devilish understanding, and still beautiful.’ Her own view was that with each passing year she inclined a little more to an exactitude some might have called pedantry, to the unassailable definition that might pass one day into frequent citation’” [in law journals] (15).
As do many members of the judiciary, she must walk a razor thin line in the case. Fiona does so with aplomb, confidence, and clarity. Her musings on the case explore the situation from all angles. McEwan writes, “On the other side of the city a teenager confronted with death for his own parents’ beliefs. It was not her business or mission to save him, but to decide what was reasonable and lawful. She would have liked to see this boy for herself, remove herself from a domestic morass, as well from the courtroom, for an hour or two, take a journey, immerse herself in the intricacies, fashion a judgment formed by her own observations” (36). She does visit him, and the two share a tender moment. She returns to the courtroom and renders a decision.
Ian McEwan has a marvelous talent for spinning a story, and The Children Act is an impressive addition to his works, and surely will add to the staggering list of literary awards he has already received. I believe a double meaning lurks in the title. 5 stars
--Jim, 9/21/14
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LibraryThing member dablackwood
While I know this book isn't perfect, I thought Ian McEwan did a wonderful job of following Fiona's private life and contrasting it with her difficult job as a family-court judge. All of the musical references also worked for me. I wanted to stop reading and listen to the music as it accompanied
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the prose. I think McEwen's ability to write a nuanced gem might be getting better and better. His choice of words is excellent and the story grabbed me from the first page. Oh, and Adam Henry is a heartbreaking character. Show Less
LibraryThing member gayla.bassham
This reminded me of On Chesil Beach, in that it is well-written but very slight, a short story blown up into a short novel. There's nothing really wrong here but nothing terribly memorable either.
LibraryThing member gbill
The case in front of High Court judge Fiona Maye is not easy – a boy a few months short of his 18th birthday is refusing a necessary blood transfusion because of the faith of his family; they are Jehovah’s Witnesses. The Hospital argues that based on The Children Act of 1989, wherein the
However, her own life is also complicated - her husband feels neglected, possibly going through a midlife crisis, and is considering (maybe already having) an affair. We see that it’s easier for her to be the third party and judge from a distance, and that even the most intelligent, rational, and sensitive people go through what seem like clichéd acts in plays or stories (and of course life itself). We also see that Maye has to live with the consequences of her decision in the Jehovah’s Witness case – it doesn’t just ‘go away’, and life is messy. I also found it interesting to think about her reaction to the boy falling in love with her, vs. what a man’s would be, what her husband’s would be, if he was the judge and it was a young woman falling for him.
I’ve read eight books by McEwan now, and find that he’s at his best in describing relationships. In this one, the feelings and emotions of the middle-aged couple in their long-term marriage ring true. As always, his prose is clean and direct, and he’s smart and cultured without being pompous or overbearing. Well worth reading.
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child’s welfare is of paramount consideration, they should be allowed to override his (and his parent’s) wishes and save him. Maye is intelligent, sensitive, and well-rounded. She can dissect cases in front of her and draw fact-based conclusions, even when those leave her troubled. It’s interesting to see her navigate this and other cases.However, her own life is also complicated - her husband feels neglected, possibly going through a midlife crisis, and is considering (maybe already having) an affair. We see that it’s easier for her to be the third party and judge from a distance, and that even the most intelligent, rational, and sensitive people go through what seem like clichéd acts in plays or stories (and of course life itself). We also see that Maye has to live with the consequences of her decision in the Jehovah’s Witness case – it doesn’t just ‘go away’, and life is messy. I also found it interesting to think about her reaction to the boy falling in love with her, vs. what a man’s would be, what her husband’s would be, if he was the judge and it was a young woman falling for him.
I’ve read eight books by McEwan now, and find that he’s at his best in describing relationships. In this one, the feelings and emotions of the middle-aged couple in their long-term marriage ring true. As always, his prose is clean and direct, and he’s smart and cultured without being pompous or overbearing. Well worth reading.
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LibraryThing member nyiper
Ohhhhh.....good one! I find his books absorbing----I listened to the audio and McEwan handled his two themes, as usual, in such a clever way---they twisted around each other. Great story!
LibraryThing member emmsbookshelf
I am a hug fan of McEwans and his taut prose. In sparse descriptive words, he outlines an environment that feels completely realistic and plausible. The dilemmas of the protagonists are laid out from the vantage point of the main character, a woman judge, who must make a tough calling on a health
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issue that means life-or-death to a teenage boy. Her personal life froms a further complication in her own frame of mind. This book kept me fascinated to the end. Show Less
LibraryThing member techeditor
THE CHILDREN ACT deserves a high rating because it has beautiful sentences and paragraphs, as do all Ian McEwan books. Here, he puts them together for a short look at a high-profile judge. While some of her interesting court cases are described, the reader also learns she is almost 60, childless,
One of her high-profile court cases involves a 17-year-old leukemia patient who needs a blood transfusion, which is forbidden by his and his parents' religion, Jehovah's Witness. The judge's decision is a life or death one.
I may need to reread this book and then rereview it. It's ending was trying to tell me something that I didn't get. I hate to admit that.
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and going through a minor (or major, depending on how you look at it) crisis with her husband. One of her high-profile court cases involves a 17-year-old leukemia patient who needs a blood transfusion, which is forbidden by his and his parents' religion, Jehovah's Witness. The judge's decision is a life or death one.
I may need to reread this book and then rereview it. It's ending was trying to tell me something that I didn't get. I hate to admit that.
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LibraryThing member Opinionated
The Children Act is a small but perfectly formed novel. No word is wasted, each sentence is perfect. And the subject matter is compelling; a High Court Judge in the family division, faced with the unravelling of her personal life by her husband's desire to start an affair with a younger colleague,
McEwan's unwrapping of the layers of the court and the law are fascinating; and he's gone to the trouble of learning about Jehovah's Witness beliefs and presents the Witnesses in a sympathetic light. As characters, the judge, her husband and indeed all the adults, are well drawn and entirely plausible.
Unfortunately, the young 17year old Adam is not; can any British teenager, however protected his upbringing, really be so far removed from popular and contemporary culture? To have a death wish is one thing (and the comparisons to anorexia and self harming are well drawn, and references to other religions which could be made, are not) but to be seemingly totally removed from 21st century modes of behaviour is another.
And because Adam is not believable as a character, to me anyway, a lot of what happens in the second half of the book is both predictable and incredible.
Not that that reduces the enjoyability of the book but does reduce my rating of it a little. Perfectly formed then, but not perfect
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is faced with a difficult case. An intelligent young man, just shy of his 18th birthday, is refusing a potentially life saving blood transfusion. His parents support his decision. But her job is to uphold the child's welfare - a duty that in this case might seem obvious, but as the novel reveals, is not as straight forward as it might seemMcEwan's unwrapping of the layers of the court and the law are fascinating; and he's gone to the trouble of learning about Jehovah's Witness beliefs and presents the Witnesses in a sympathetic light. As characters, the judge, her husband and indeed all the adults, are well drawn and entirely plausible.
Unfortunately, the young 17year old Adam is not; can any British teenager, however protected his upbringing, really be so far removed from popular and contemporary culture? To have a death wish is one thing (and the comparisons to anorexia and self harming are well drawn, and references to other religions which could be made, are not) but to be seemingly totally removed from 21st century modes of behaviour is another.
And because Adam is not believable as a character, to me anyway, a lot of what happens in the second half of the book is both predictable and incredible.
Not that that reduces the enjoyability of the book but does reduce my rating of it a little. Perfectly formed then, but not perfect
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LibraryThing member Clara53
It might be not correct to say that this book blew me away, or maybe it did - but in a quiet, thoughtful way. Each sentence by each intuitive sentence. So many contradictions - which is life itself. A childless accomplished woman judge solves the fates of many children from broken homes or
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otherwise in despair, while finding her own personal life on shaky ground at the same time. And, of course, this one sum up sentence doesn't even begin to give credit to the poignant, emotional story. Very accomplished writing. Show Less
LibraryThing member Amsa1959
I have not liked the latest novels by Ian McEwan as much as I thought I should. This one, I loved! It is interesting, fascinating and gripping. It´s about love and faith, about being middle-aged and about being young. The novel did interest me in a professional way since I am a judge and deal
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quite a lot with family - cases. This novel is about suddenly getting a crack in your professional armor and a blow to your marriage - at the same time. And it´s about being struck by life and love in a way you never expected. A wonderful novel. Show Less
LibraryThing member JFMC
Rarely is there a female character like this - older,established and successful without celebrity, but thoughtful and vulnerable. It is not a long laborious read - its more direct and has in intensity about it I found refreshing. It makes you think long after its done. Highly recommended.
LibraryThing member Bookmarque
Upon completion of this book my first thought was ‘that’s it?’. Yes, there was a lot of emotional turmoil and big ideas about religion and how it corrupts a person’s freedom of action, especially in children, but there wasn’t a lot of upshot. Fiona has to deal with these dilemmas as a
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family judge and from what I read she did it competently and without emotional attachment. Until Adam that is and it wasn’t a big shock considering the distance in her marriage and her husband’s desire for a fling with her permission. Eh, I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention, but I hoped more more import from the proceedings. Show Less
LibraryThing member MargaritaMorris
Thoroughly researched and exquisitely crafted but it's so earnest, it's just a tad dull.
Awards
Dublin Literary Award (Longlist — 2016)
Independent Booksellers' Book Prize (Shortlist — Adult — 2015)
Andrew Carnegie Medals for Excellence in Fiction and Nonfiction (Longlist — Fiction — 2015)
Europese Literatuurprijs (Longlist — 2015)
NPR: Books We Love (2014)
The Observer Book of the Year (Fiction — 2014)
Notable Books List (2015)
Los Angeles Public Library Best of the Year (Fiction — 2014)
Language
Original publication date
2014
Physical description
240 p.; 5.37 inches
ISBN
0345809637 / 9780345809636
Other editions
The Children Act by Ian McEwan (Hardcover)