MixedThe New York Review of BooksMcEwan recreates the atmosphere with his usual scrupulous accuracy. Comforts are few and the food is dreadful—‘slices of long-ago roasted beef in a thickened gravy, soft boiled vegetables, and potatoes of a bluish hue’—but not as dreadful as the throttling inhibition … On Chesil Beach is brief and carefully plotted, the writing is measured, the tone of voice is forgiving and nostalgic. In other words, it is a fine example of emotion recollected in tranquillity. Even so, I couldn’t help regretting the fun McEwan might have had with these sad fumbling innocents when he was younger, less mellow, and a great deal less forbearing.
