'Black Dogs'

OK, that's enough Ian McEwan for a while. I think it's going to be at least another 10 years before I pick up another McEwan after knocking out three of his books in about nine months.

I don't know this for a fact, but I get the feeling that he's really into himself. So much that he paints himself into his work. Of course, tons of writers do this, but not with the audacity that McEwan does. And also, other people are interesting. McEwan isn't.

In "Black Dogs," there's a 15-page narrative about finding a flashlight.

In fact, the entire middle section where the focus goes on the son-in-law instead of the father- or mother-in-law is the worst part of the story and I get the aching feeling that the son-in-law is a sketch of McEwan himself.

I've paid my dues. No more McEwan.