Black Dogs

“Shutting it all out was how I found peace. If I’m bitter, it’s because I haven’t forgiven myself.” June, Black Dogs

Black Dogs is my first encounter with Ian McEwan's writing – and a disturbing one. First, a brief synopsis of the book. Black Dogs is a story about crumbling marriage as told by their son in law, Jeremy. Like other McEwan’s novels, the plot involves one life changing incident (in this case, it’s June’s) that transform their union into downward sprial. The novel is broken up into two major parts: June and Bernard’s.

So that’s that. Here’s my opinion: I like the novel as a whole. I really like June’s version of their union and estrangement. And I think McEwan writes some of the most beautiful and thoughtful prose, especially about how June perceived their love for each other.

“The truth is we love each other…And we failed to do a thing with it. We couldn’t make a life. We couldn’t give up the love, but we wouldn’t bend to its power.”

And of course, once you get to Bernard’s version, everything that is romantic and sentimental is shattered by his rationality. “…how people like June bend the facts to fit their ideas instead of the other way round.” And I have to confess that I didn’t particularly enjoy this section as much as earlier section. What is life if it is just about cold hard facts with no embellishment? Which leads to my first disturbance:

Which version do I believe? Obviously, being a romantic meself, I lean towards June’s. Sure, it may not be the true version, but who the heck cares? Much like the doctor in Big Fish who said “If you ask me, I would’ve preferred the fantasized version rather than the truth.”

Second disturbance: Black dogs. Do they really exist? I mean, I know June says she encountered them, but really? If we take Bernard’s words that she likes to fantasize things, can this be another event that she twisted the truth?

It’s been almost two weeks now that I’ve finished reading and still, I find myself thinking about the ending and about June’s character. Throughout the novel you are reminded of how she found God after she had met evil. But, did she? She seems to not have found peace of mind because of her emotional attachment to things. Instead, Bernard looks the more likely to find some sort of tranquility in his life. Maybe this is a reflection of truth: the more you want some things, the more elusive they become. And I’ll end with June’s opinion on this:

“Happiness is an occasional, summer-lightning thing.”