The typical McEwan writing that is meant to get under your skin; added this time is a sense of trying to capture the totality of a man’s thoughts and observation over the course of a day. The set-pieces are thrilling to be sure but it’s the interstices that aren’t convincing. I preferred Atonement and Amsterdam, the inevitable sense of dread was more visceral. Maybe it’s a question of empathy (or lack thereof in the novel)... also the war/terrorism motifs and the personal terror that is faced somehow don’t grip… A good novel but not his best.