You really got a hold on me.

THE CEMENT GARDEN
IAN MCEWAN

McEwan's first. A tale of incest, death, adolescence, family, and Britishness, told in an oddly dream-like fashion by fifteen year-old Jack.

Just like its protagonist, the story has no great connection to time or place, instead, it's defined solely by its child characters -- four children who conceal the fact of their mother's death in order to keep from being split up and taken into foster care.

It's as thoroughly absorbing as a nightmare, full of twisted, morbid imagery. But it's written with all the control/ self-awareness of his later work. It's also a fairly short piece of fiction, almost like an expansive short story.

Enjoyed it much, given my fascination with first novels. After all, McEwan's widely considered to be one of the most perfect writers of our time.

Zadie Smith says this best:
I have often thought Ian McEwan a writer as unlike me as it is possible to be. His prose is controlled, careful, and powerfully concise; he is eloquent on the subjects of sex and sexuality; he has a strong head for the narrative possibilities of science; his novels are no longer than is necessary; he would never write a sentence featuring this many semicolons. When I read him I am struck by metaphors I would never think to use, plots that don’t occur to me, ideas I have never had. I love to read him for these reasons and also because, like his millions of readers, I feel myself to be in safe hands. Picking up a book by McEwan is to know, at the very least, that what you read therein will be beautifully written, well-crafted, and not an embarrassment, either for you or for him. This is a really big deal. Bad books happen less frequently to McEwan than they do to the rest of us.