In the last few years, it had begun to seem like novelist Ian McEwan was pitching prolificacy above all else. His 2007 work, On Chesil Beach , while shortlisted for the Booker Prize essentially remained a short piece of fiction (or a long observation, depending which way you want to look at it) about a honeymoon. The subsequent books, out every couple of years, Solar and Sweet Tooth , were barely worth ploughing through. Thus it was with an anticipation of disappointment that I started his latest, The Children Act . But boy, does McEwan surprise.
The Children Act is a British law that seeks to put the child’s welfare above anything else. As a High Court judge who mostly hears cases in the family court, Fiona Maye is one of the prime upholders of the Act. When we first meet her, she has just been told by her husband that he wants her permission to have an affair. At 59, he feels their long marriage had rendered them to the condition of siblings. He wanted one “last shot” at an exciting sexual life before he dies. He did not want to sneak around behind her back and so was seeking her permission upfront, even as he had a potential partner ready and willing. Fiona is both hurt and outraged by this.
Meanwhile, in the Court, she is hearing a particularly fraught case. A boy, Adam, three months short of his 18th birthday (and therefore of legal age to make his own decisions) is suffering from leukaemia. Adam and his parents are devout Jehovah’s Witnesses and their religion forbids the transfusion of any body fluids. If he isn’t transfused, he is unlikely to survive, and even if he does live, he could be rendered blind or immobile. His doctors see considerable chances of his survival if they could give him the blood he needs and therefore seek the court’s permission to do so against the wishes of the boy and his parents. Although Fiona has dealt with complicated cases before, including a decision on which of a pair of Siamese twins deserves to live, she is flummoxed by the many ethical questions that Adam’s case raises. After hearing the arguments on both sides, Fiona, without precedence and entirely on an impulse, decides to go and meet the boy in hospital. She is at once drawn to his sharp intellect and poetic talent.
It is thus through a ‘life and death’ situation of someone else that Fiona assesses her own life, in the light of the changes that her husband is proposing. After the first few days of fury and victimhood, she settles in to having the house for herself, so much so that when she finds him at the doorstep one evening, she is quite saddened by the loss of her personal space and time. Yet, for someone who has been in an otherwise complete relationship, writing off the marriage entirely is not an easy option either.
In many ways, The Children Act is a book about faith and self-doubt. Fiona — accomplished and articulate — is suddenly left wondering about her failings as a wife and a childless woman. Adam, who has spent his entire life believing in a god and a certain afterlife Kingdom, is torn between pitting his life over his faith. McEwan is deft and takes the reader through these primal human conflicts without much drama or hysteria. The book is so startlingly quiet, reading it feels like a round of meditation. There is no doubt that McEwan is a master of his craft, and with The Children Act he is most certainly back at the top of his game.
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