Green Light to the Red Light District

Amsterdam.  A city of vibrant people, of unique culture, of drugs and prostitutes.  Amsterdam the novel is no different.  Ian McEwan's masterpiece has an elaborate plot, full of suspenseful twists and turns worthy of Inception.  While this tale was no less dark and depressing than most of the other books we have read this year, McEwan presents this mood in a way that is kind of funny in a sick, British way.  Take, for example, Vernon's incredibly awkward encounter with Frank Dibben in the restroom: as Vernon contemplates firing Dibben, he observes that "Dibben was in fact relieving himself quite copiously, thunderously even" (42).  Firing someone is by no means funny, but one cannot help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.  And there is a twisted sort of humor in the fact that both men develop "a taste for revenge" and kill each other in the exact same manner (162).  It is this type of subtle humor that prevents the reader from utterly despising the otherwise despicable characters.  And despite the overriding humor of the novel, McEwan beautifully crafts a nightmarish plot and such petty characters that it soon becomes clear that both Vernon and Clive had "lost [their] reason and something had to be done" (161). And the novel not only generates an enormous amount of suspense, but also calls to attention several troubling moral quandaries - the question of whether or not to publish the photos of Garmony, Clive's Lakeland Rapist fiasco, assisted suicide, etc.  Reading a book that dissects conventional morality in such a way and then discussing it in depth seems to finally confirm Ms. Serensky's assertion: "You are all smart" (Ms. Serensky).