Virgins on a Honeymoon: A Review of Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach
“They were young, educated, and both virgins on this, their wedding night, and they lived in a time when a conversation about sexual difficulties was plainly impossible. But it is never easy.”
The time is July, 1962 along the Dorset coast of England, the honeymoon night of Edward, a recent graduate of history from the University College of London, and Florence, a violinist of an up and coming classical music quartet. And, yes, they are both virgins.
With the popularity of such films as “The 40-Year Old Virgin” and the recent “Superbad,” virgins seem to be penetrating into our mainstream consciousness more and more.
The beauty of McEwan’s novel is the psychological depth he brings to these virginal characters. The entire novel is about the anticipated attempt at consummation, but at every glance, slight movement, or brief thought, we are transported back to Edward and Florence’s family histories, childhood memories, burgeoning passions, early courtship, along with minute dissection of the emotions they are feeling at every moment, cascading to a climax that is as suspenseful as any horror novel. But this is a horror story of a different kind.
Florence is in love with Edward but filled with a monstrous dread for the unavoidable deed – “Her problem, she thought, was greater, deeper, than straightforward physical disgust; her whole being was in revolt against the prospect of entanglement and flesh . . . Sex with Edward could not be the summation of her joy, but was the price she must pay for it.” Edward on the other hand is bursting at the seams as any young man would be.
Sex itself is a well worn subject in fiction, from Sex in the City-like adventures to Lolita-esque ambiguities; sex has been explored in too many varieties to name here. The eauty of McEwan’s novel is to serve the imagination of the under sexed – the place and border between two people who in our day and age would definitely find themselves far out on the margins. Because of their marginal place in the world, the story demands the imagination of a novelist who dares to explore the depths of a mind where sex is still a anxious mystery filled with anticipation and no experience – and good literature should be about taking us somewhere we haven’t been to in a while or to a place we never would have imagined.
But this novel is clearly more than just about sex. History may even play a bigger part. Fun really begins when they intersect, so to speak. The ease in which sentences flow from disparate subjects, such as masturbation and a long forgotten battle, are comical, yet brilliant in execution – “How extraordinary it was, that a self-made spoonful, leaping clear of his body, should instantly free his mind to confront afresh Nelson’s decisiveness at Aboukir Bay.” Sentences like these are what make this book fresh from beginning to end.
The beach on which their honeymoon takes place is an interesting setting choice –a border between land and sea, creating its own landscape of sand, shingles, and dirt, formed over millennia – the land and sea, two very different creatures in constant contact with another orming a relationship that creates a beautiful place where people like Edward and Florence go for holiday. But, as Edward attempts to reach his sexual shore , his fluids fall short, spilling over the landscape of Florence’s body.
The irony is if only Edward and Florence could recognize Chesil Beach and see that a comfortable place between personal borders is not made in one night, maybe their doomed elationship might weather such first time mishaps.
On Chesil Beach is a book you could actually finish at the beach in an afternoon – clocking in about 200 pages this compact feast is one savory story that will stick around in your mind for a while to come.
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