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The Comfort of Strangers, by Ian McEwan
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As their holiday unfolds, Colin and Maria are locked in to their own intimacy. They groom themselves meticulously, as though there waits someone who cares deeply about how they appear. Then they meet a man with a disturbing story to tell and become drawn into a fantasy of violence and obsession.
- Sales Rank: #179404 in Audible
- Published on: 2015-01-26
- Format: Unabridged
- Original language: English
- Running time: 229 minutes
Most helpful customer reviews
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
A FOREIGN CITY WHERE LOST SOULS SHOULD FEAR TO WANDER: 'ARE YOU TOURISTS?', ASKED THE STRANGER
By Pippin O' Rohan
'The Comfort of Strangers' (1981), by the British author Ian McEwan is a fascinating psychological and short crime novel about a contemporary young English couple on a brief holiday to Italy, causing one to wonder about the plausibility of their encounter and strange bonding with an older married couple from Canada who live there and the dark ending to this narration. It is one of the author's earliest efforts, frowned on by quite a few readers of the above, including some admirers today of this acclaimed writer's ongoing and brilliant work. But over the last decades having taken it up again on one or two occasions, and interpreting it slightly differently with the passage of time, it has offered this reader some insight as to how this vacation could have taken such an improbable and sinister turn. It has a warped realistic twist to it, reminiscent of some gothic writings by Daphne du Maurier, and blended with a fatalistic brew of original notes crafted exquisitely by McEwan.
Mary and Colin, an attractive-looking couple most likely in their late twenties, or early thirties, have now reached a lull and desultory stage in their long-term affair. To this reader, they are standing at a pivotal turning-point in their relationship where they are either going to marry, or go their different ways. A holiday is suggested, a change from their daily routine, more time together just the two of them, while leaving Mary's children from a previous marriage at home in England. They choose a warm place for their retreat, some sun to enjoy and a languorous city in Italy (which the author leaves 'nameless', perhaps not to distract readers who have visited Venice with the city's similarities). Once there, Mary and Colin plan to rest for a few days, without any real motivation to explore their new surroundings, or go on some daily sight-seeing. From the beginning of the narration and their exchanges, they appear to be vaguely depressed and emotionally vulnerable. Shortly after their arrival, and away from their safe, if now stale living environment, a fog of mental disorientation descends upon them at their holiday destination.
Their unconscious purpose for the above short journey, as one among other interpretations, might be to renew their knowledge of each other in a place unfamiliar to either of them, and on neutral territory where they will not run into any friendly faces from home, or circle of acquaintances. At their hotel, they immediately fall into a routine of sleeping most of the day with the comfort of physical love at times, while after the ritual of dressing for the evening, they interpret their dreams to each other, sitting out on their balcony before going out to dinner. The element of time is also placed on hold during this vacation, and when finally venturing out too late one night, they soon lose their sense of direction and bearings. The maps they acquire from sullen vendors only lead them further astray into small narrow dark cobbled streets where tension rises as they are unable to find a place to eat, and hunger eventually has them walking in slow motion, feeling light-headed and tired. They are lost, and perhaps in more ways than one.
The reader here might wonder how one would react if in this desultory scenario, all of a sudden the figure of a flashy dubious-looking man emerged from the dark shadows into the street light, and blocked one's way while extending a hand in friendship, speaking fluently one's language. Colin and Mary, both instinctively with polite dislike and mistrust, attempt to swerve from this stranger's strong clasping embrace and keep going, while the older man introducing himself as 'Robert', pulls them back boisterously into a seedy smoke-filled basement bar with a loud jukebox down the street, and rough sullen and silent younger men sitting around, dressed like himself. He produces some strong native wine which goes right to their heads, and before long they are feeling somewhat more relaxed and at ease, a pair of tourists enjoying some local flavor, asking questions of their whereabouts, and finally listening to this animated stranger tell them of his early childhood, which becomes increasingly grotesque and revolting in the relaying. By the time he mentions the name of his wife Caroline, a Canadian woman, and their house nearby, the couple are in an exhausted drunken stupor and have started nodding off (some readers, however, may be wide awake at this point, feeling repulsion, incredulous and debating whether to continue this story of theirs, or to set it aside). When the bar finally closes, Mary and Colin wander off staggering into the quiet night, sit down for a moment on some stone steps and fall into a deep sleep leaning against each other. To their minds, nothing really matters after all, because they are on a floating agenda and the sentence, 'Remember We're on Holiday', is a recurring one they often exchange, offering them solace at the beginning of this nightmare which sets the tone for their journey into a darkening web of mystery, danger and intrigue.
When they awake in the small street in the early morning with blood-shot eyes and plans to return to the hotel, first going in search for water to soothe their parched thirst, they end up instead in a large city square, sitting impatiently at one of the tables for a waiter from the outdoor café to serve them. After a few minutes, they see the infamous Robert, distinctive in his white suit, standing at a distance with his camera and a cigarette, and while they attempt to shield their faces in the midst of the many other patrons, he starts walking briskly up to them, arms wide open and calling out 'My Friends!, and here the plot really begins.
What happens next might be the graphic description of how a lost traveling couple find themselves easy prey to this older married couple, Robert and Caroline, who have a distinct violent and bizarre plan of their own, unknown to their victims and the readers of 'Comfort', while Mary is taken a psychological hostage under the crippled wing of the abused perverse Caroline, and her dangerous husband proceeds literally to knock out any fighting spirit left in the weakened Colin, reducing him into traumatic submission. The young couple are now effectively 'separated' by the other one, and the lines of tacit communication between them are down. By the time the author offers his characters some escape routes, Mary and Colin are addressing each other on their visit pleasantly as lovers and friends, where a note of formality has crept in between them, keeping them closer and yet further apart.
While this short novel of a pair of tourists navigating far beyond the realm of realities, and its theme of depravity unbearable to digest for some, it may bring to mind a passage in one's youth when some of us were apt to take more chances, the world was friendlier and the atmosphere felt safer when venturing out under the sheltering sun. It is one of those rare books that one might wish to address again at a later age, and is definitely not for the antelope-souls among our midst. For this reader, it falls within the category of exquisitely sinister and psychological classics of its kind, and is an elegant feat on the author's part. 'The Comfort of Strangers' came to mind here once again when a friend who just arrived in Italy was describing the other day first impressions of the outskirts of a well-known city, and although one can become unwillingly mesmerized in the reading of this novel, it is not one easily recommended to others, but rather one that might prefer to keep to oneself with personal reflections and memories of youthful times past.
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
What an inane piece of garbage!
By Cino
I can't believe I spent nearly nine bucks to read such garbage! I hadn't read anything by McEwan yet and now I really wonder how is it possible that the guy sells his writing. Rarely I have encountered such lack of direction such absence of definition of the characters and their actions such inane plot such boring descriptions of meaningless details such absurd behaviors such unbelievable progress of time and such astronomical nonsense as Orion in the summer sky.
I would save however a brief paragraph with the description of an infant in a pram in St. Mark's square which truly is a masterpiece. But I would have spared myself all else in this book and would not have spent that money for one paragraph.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
TERMINALLY VAPID & BORING
By Elizabeth A. McBurney
It was one of the worst books I've read in years. I didn't even read the whole thing. Finally skipped to the last pages, found out how it ended - just as I thought it would. The characters were vapid, unlikable and terminally boring. The circumstances of their lives were meaningless and it was no surprise that they attracted the most unattractive of couples on the most boring (they slept alot) of vacations. I wouldn't even give this one star if I could get away with it. This book is simply awful
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