And now for something completely different!

So, having got my holiday fling with canals and the life afloat out of the way, I am now back on track with my next offering, Lionel Shriver's We need to talk about Kevin.

I got through the first hundred pages with my mind not really tuned in to the narrative voice, and then, almost imperceptibly, I began to understand where Eva, the wife of the story is coming from. From this point on I found myself reading for pleasure, and not just for notching up another title on the bedpost and the blog.

I picked this novel up in the local charity shop simply because I had been intrigued by the film of the same name, starring Tilda Swinton, but which I had never managed to see when it was in the cinema. I was also intrigued to read something by a woman called Lionel.

I think that if possible, it's always best to read the book before you see the film. Then you can avoid having someone else's vision projected into your mind. I can understand why some actors don't like to watch previous film versions of screenplays that they are working on, because it makes it very difficult for them to come up with new angles on the characters they are playing. However, watching a film after you have enjoyed the book, may be a let down, as The Time Traveller'sWife was for me, but more usually it is a pleasure. Therefore, I fully intend to borrow a copy of the Kevin DVD once I have finished, and see if my understanding of the novel tallies with that of the director. Tilda Swinton is a great actress, so I hope not to be disappointed.

As for my observations on the book, I have to admit that Lionel Shriver kept me on my toes. It is a very cleverly written book, and demanded my whole attention. I found it impossible to read and follow if there were any distractions in the room, whereas I can usually read with conversations going on around me, or television in the background. Consequently, it has taken me longer, as I have had to find quiet time and space to read. It has been well worth the effort though.

The Kevin in question is Eva and Franklins' teenage son, who has massacred seven of his fellow pupils, a teacher and a canteen worker in the gym at his school a few days before his sixteenth birthday. As she undertakes to visit Kevin in prison, Eva writes a series of revealing letters to her estranged husband looking for clues as to why he may have committed such a heinous crime. Were they to blame as parents? Was it nature, or was it nurture? It is a brutal dissection of a marriage, where like Isaac and Rebekah, they have taken sides and are championing their favourites.

Lionel Shriver is masterful in her psychological analysis of the main players, and fills her novel with darkly comic humour. I don't know how she sustains this brilliance, in the same way that I cannot comprehend how Kevin manages to manipulate his parents from earliest childhood whilst maintaining his own disaffected, amoral personality. Left me wanting to be able to write like Lionel!