The Heart of Walking Away

March 12th, 2008

On Chesil Beach, he could have called out to Florence, he could have gone after her. He did not know, or would not have cared to know, that as she ran away from him, certain in her distress that she was about to lose him, she had never loved him more, or more hopelessly, and that the sound of his voice would have been a deliverance, and she would have turned back. Instead, he stood in cold and righteous silence in the summer’s dusk, watching her hurry along the shore, the sound of her difficult progress lost to the breaking of small waves, until she was a blurred receding point against the immense straight road of shingle gleaming in the pallid light.

Extracted from On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan

that is the last paragraph of the last page of the book. Ian McEwan always knows exactly what to say. i am humbled and moved, but still proud and still frightened. i’ve got a hundred thousand Chesil Beaches tucked away in secret corners of my head that i often revisit; at times with self-justification, at times with regret. the immense straight road of shingle gleaming in the pallid light always feels like it comes from another universe.

Entry Filed under: Musings