Few contemporary writers have left as profound a mark on British literature as Ian McEwan. Ahead of his visit to Bath this month to discuss his new book, What We Can Know, Melissa Blease interviews the prolific author, discussing his latest novel, advice for budding writers, how he spends his downtime, and the enduring power of storytelling. Image: Author Ian McEwan; Photography by Ula Soltys
Ian McEwan is widely acknowledged as one of the greatest British writers of all time, ranked among the top 20 most powerful people in British culture. His novels (18 to date, 12 of which have been adapted for the big screen) are regularly hailed as literary masterpieces. He’s been the recipient of multiple distinguished awards, prizes, honours and accolades, including a CBE for Services to Literature and an Order of the Companions of Honour: a special award made to individuals who have “made a significant contribution to the arts, science, medicine or government”; indeed, it could be said that the recipient in this instance has made significant contributions to all four areas.
You’d surely forgive me, then, for being a bit daunted (to say the least!) at the prospect of interviewing prominent British novelist and screenwriter Ian McEwan. But would he forgive me for starting off our chat with a blurted, bungled, and rather sycophantic opening question: what’s it like being Ian McEwan?
“I don’t think of myself as being Ian McEwan, even though that’s who I am,” he laughs. “I just think of myself as being incredibly lucky to have been able to live by writing, which I’ve done now for 55 years. It’s a wonderful mental freedom, a great luxury, and a huge privilege. Every day I thank my lucky stars.”
One of the greatest British writers of all time is, it turns out, also an ineffably charming man.
What We Can Know
McEwan is talking to me ahead of a visit to Bath on Tuesday, 16 September, when he’ll be discussing his new book, What We Can Know, with Andrew Kelly, founder director of Festival of Ideas. What can we know about the book ahead of the date?
“In some ways it’s quite difficult to describe because it’s so many things,” he says, by way of a sneak preview.
“I suppose it’s a kind of mystery, with a crime at its centre. But it’s also about the difficulties of really knowing others.
“It’s written, in the main, a century in the future, when a scholar is looking back to a famous (fictional) poet of our time. The poet reads a long beautiful poem to his wife on her birthday. He presents it to her as a scroll, the only copy. But no one knows what happened to it.
Once I’ve got a novel going, I write
until I drop, every day, seven days a week, for as long as it takes.
“Years pass, and more and more people speculate about the poem’s fate; it becomes famous, even though no one but the poet’s wife has read it. Different generations read it as an expression of their different problems, and Britain during the 21st century, certainly has its problems: it’s become an archipelago since a Russian bomb fell in the Atlantic during an exchange of nuclear weapons resulting in cities overwhelmed by multiple tsunamis. But life goes on! And so does the life of an unread poem.”
Welcome to Ian McEwan world, where the very essence of being human (love; relationships; art) are inextricably linked with science (climate change in particular), politics (ditto previous parenthesis) and the quest for an ethical, liveable global environment for all. But where did the inspiration for What We Can Know in particular come from? “I read and admired a poem, Marston Meadows by John Fuller, and borrowed its form, known as a Corona,” McEwan explains.
“I admired this poem so much that it never quite left my thoughts, and sooner or later, I found myself writing about a poem like that, that gets lost. Doing that opened up many other issues and ideas about how someone in a hundred years’ time might be writing about our times with envy, looking back on the days when we still had beautiful countryside to enjoy, when there were still footpaths linking our villages, when literature was still alive, and we still did crazy things like flying 2,000 miles for a weekend holiday. We had problems, yes- but they were problems we could have solved, but didn’t.”
Oh, that sounds sad! Or at least wistful, perhaps? “Perhaps. But I think there is a thread of optimism running through this novel. We always find a way of scraping through. If we stop doing that, it will be the end of everything.”
Early novels
Nature – and politics. McEwan proposes that his earliest novels were “potentially not political,” citing his 1987 novel The Child in Time not only as “his first decent novel” but probably his first “political” work too.
Since then, both Solar (2010) and Machines Like Me (2019) in particular could easily segue into the ‘political motif’ category, with Solar specifically exploring themes around climate change and political inaction.
“It’s difficult to write about climate change as it’s such a big subject,” McEwan says. “I chose the route of not writing directly about it this time around but writing about a scholar writing about a poem and then writing about his envy for our times, because his times – future times – are even worse.
“We live between the ghosts of the past and the ghosts of the future, and we know that one day we will be the ghosts of the past too. A big part of What We Can Know is getting the past, the future, and the present to speak to each other so that, by the time the novel ends, the reader feels that they’ve been in three places at once: past, present, and future – and they’re all equally alive.”
It comes as no surprise, given McEwan’s description of What We Can Know, that the book took three years to write.
“Once I’ve got a novel going, I write until I drop, every day, seven days a week, for as long as it takes,” he says.
Downtime
If such a routine leaves a lot of time off in lieu to make full use of when the final edits are done and dusted, how does he spend his downtime?
“I love hiking!” he says. “I play tennis as far as my knees will allow it, and yesterday I played cricket on the front lawn with my granddaughters, which was great fun. But hanging around with friends at the kitchen table drinking wine and eating supper is one of the greatest pleasures of my life; I put that ahead of going to the theatre, which I also love.”
But I can’t help wondering if, despite his protestations to the contrary in response to my opening question, does the reputation of “being Ian McEwan” ever impact on the day-to-day life of the person behind the persona?
“Well, let me tell you this,” he muses. “Just the other day, my daughter-in-law sent me a picture of one of my young granddaughters curled up in an armchair in the most inconceivably difficult, uncomfortable position. She was reading The Daydreamer, my one and only book for children. And her mother said, she hasn’t spoken to us in hours; she hasn’t moved from that chair. And I thought, that’s one of the best reviews I’ve ever had.”
Many of us have had days like McEwan’s granddaughter: locked up with one of his books, racing to the denouement but somehow wanting to delay the journey to the final full stop. Might he have any advice to offer fledgling authors who dream of being even close to creating that Ian McEwan enchantment?
“My main advice, especially for young writers is, if they’re going to become serious writers, they must spend at least two or three hours a day offline and use that time not necessarily writing but treating their minds like a garden to be investigated, and taking a stroll down through it. Take a deep breath, look around you, and be grateful that you even exist – you, a brilliant, amazing matter of efficient consciousness. It’s quite purifying to do that. Of course, you can go back to the internet; it, too, is a wonderful thing, a blessing as well as a curse. But make yourself your own island. You have to do that. We all have to do that.”
And if you need to take one book to take to that island with you, take one written by one of the greatest British writers of all time: mental freedom, luxury, and a privilege to read, on every page.
An Evening with Ian McEwan for What We Can Know: Tuesday 16 September, Bath Pavilion (courtesy of Toppings Booksellers). toppingbooks.co.uk/events/bath