Well I’ll put it simply this wasn’t was I was expecting. It was harder to get into because the first half was written much like an academic paper. The rest I just couldn’t connect with. I don’t have anything negative to say about it, but this was just not the book for me.

Thank you NetGalley and Knopf for the arc in exchange for my opinion.

An oft-favored narrative strategy for novelists, with the opportunity it affords for both commenting on the action of a novel as well as striking notes of portentousness, is to have a narrator recount the novel's events from some point in the future – think Edith Wharton’s “Ethan Frome” or, perhaps most famously, Daphne du Maurier’s “Rebecca.”
Not without peril, though, the narrative strategy, with how in not starting “in media res,” it risks not being sufficiently engaging for a reader at the novel’s all-important beginning – the chief problem, to my mind, with Ian McEwan’s resolutely cerebral “What We Can Know,” where the not-exactly-riveting-to-begin-with task for its historian narrator, Thomas, is to uncover the circumstances behind the composition and disappearance from public view of a much-heralded epic poem from 107 years before.
Not just your run-of-the-mill epic poem, though, the one whose excavation into its circumstances will occupy him through the first half of the novel, but a true would-be magnum opus created by one Francis Blundy on the occasion of the 54th birthday of his wife, Vivien, herself a writer who has it in mind to write a book about Thomas Aikenhead, the last person to be executed for blasphemy in Britain. Never realized, though, in the course of the novel, her own literary ambition, which with its subject of the fate of a dissenter from religious orthodoxy is not unrelated to the novel’s depiction of the fate of an unheeding world resistant to warnings about climate change.
A distinct back seat her would-be book takes, though, to Blundy and the magisterial poem he has it in mind to honor her with. A “formidable undertaking,” what he envisions, a “corona” consisting of “fifteen sonnets with the last line of each having to be repeated in the first line of the next, and the fifteenth, the ‘crown,’ having to consist of the first lines of the preceding fourteen and still making sense.” And not just having to meet those rigorous technical specifications, the tribute as he imagines it, but also having to “flow naturally and not buckle under the constraints of the rules”
A veritable masterpiece Blundy believes his final creation to be, something equal to or even surpassing Eliot’s “Wasteland,” with some critics in Blundy’s lifetime even comparing him overall to Eliot, with the correspondences even extending to both poets’ wives being named Vivien.
“The greatest work ever achieved on the need to change our ways through love,” his creation is hailed as, though there are indications throughout the novel, from the perspective of Thomas looking back on it from a century later, that the poem, which has been lost to time, might not in fact have been the masterpiece it was credited as being at the time, a suspicion given weight from on-high, if you will, by the fool’s name that author McEwan bestows on Blundy.
Asinine, in a word, what he is, with a particularly egregious instance of his asininity coming when he lets loose with a string of epithets at climate protesters stalling him and Vivien in traffic, calling them “loony-left dupes” and “ignorant credulous scum” and branding Vivien an idiot for falling for their “claptrap.” A moment all the more striking, his lashing out, both for the calamitous state the reader knows the country will come to for ignoring such climate warnings as well as the moment’s departure from the more usually temperate aspect that the novel strikes in the vein of fellow cerebral writers Julian Barnes and Graham Swift, most especially for me the Swift of “Waterland.”
Strikingly reminiscent of “Waterland” narrator Tom Cruck’s complaint about his students’ lack of interest in history, for instance, was McEwan’s narrator’s complaint about his own students: “They had grown up with the consequences” of ignoring climate warnings, he says of them, “heard their grandparents go on about it. The past was peopled by idiots. Big deal. The matter was dead. … they had moved on. ” And, echoing observations of academicians today about their students in our AI environment: “My students found it near impossible to read a whole book and form a judgment, even an adverse one. I did most of the talking, pushing myself to coax responses from minds that were flattened and timorous, indifferent to the entire enterprise of literature.”
Interesting, though hardly riveting, those more intellectual musings of the novel, which even with their undeniable import had my eyes glazing over a bit and even had me ready to throw in the towel on the book, when, in a dramatic shift, the novel’s interest picked up considerably for me in its second half, which opens with the decidedly more engrossing situation of a woman at a train station noticing a child who has apparently been abandoned by its mother.
Blundy’s Vivien, it turns out, the woman in the station (we’ve now back in the 20th century time of the novel), though she's not married to Blundy at the time but to a violin maker, Percy, a “kindly, decent” man who for all his disinclination toward the literary and more distinctly hands-on orientation, is nevertheless a decidedly better human being than Blundy or her lover. Indeed, hands down the best person in the novel he is, with Vivien remarking on how much more sympathetically he receives her account of how affected she’d been by the child’s plight than Blundy or her lover would have been.
Sadly, though, over the course of the novel he will fall victim to dementia, with the resulting distressing regimen it calls for from Vivien of having to constantly repeat things for him and wipe him after bathroom visits and be forced into consideration of whether to consign him to a care home, a distinctly unappealing option for her but one pushed enthusiastically by Blundy, who goes even further to suggest how the situation might be dealt with more permanently – an intimation of murder which gave the novel for me the aspect of a thriller in the vein of another favorite writer of mine, Louise Doughty.
A real grabber, the second part of the novel, to where it literally rose me from the slump I’d been in my chair and energized me enough to press through to the end of the novel in a single push, making up in spades for the novel’s less-than-enthralling first half.
Overall, an engaging read, McEwan’s latest, particularly if, like me, you’re drawn to cerebral fiction, though if you’re a first-time McEwan reader, you might be better served by beginning with what remains for me his best book, “Sweet Tooth,” which with its particular take on the spy novel clearly demonstrated for me why McEwan is counted as one of the preeminent writers of our day.

Ian McEwan is a very talented author. I have enjoyed many of his books. The prose in this on is undeniably elegant. But I just couldn’t engage in the story. This book is definitely put-downable.

This novel in two parts starts out in a post-climate change England where a researcher is studying a poet's work. Although the lack of emotion in the first half is understandable it was so long and didn't keep me engaged.

On Chesil Beach is one of my favorite novels, so I was excited to have the chance to read Ian McEwan's latest. Unfortunately, the majority was so dry to seem academic. I do understand what he was doing but it quickly became a slog to get through and I skimmed the last half just to find out what happened.

This is a story of two couples, separated in time by 100 years. Francis and Vivian live in the present day UK. Francis is, perhaps, the foremost poet of his time and enjoys worldwide fame and adulation. Vivian is a professor at Oxford who has taken an unpaid leave to care for her husband who has entered a second toddlerhood thanks to his advancing Alzheimer's disease. A frustrated Vivian begins an on and off affair with Francis but the two are stymied by Vivian's husband Percy persistent hardiness despite his disease. Percy eventually dies after a fall down some stairs and Francis and Vivian wed. They move to a renovated barn in the Cotswolds and Vivian quits her job as a professor to assume the full time job of watching Francis write poems. and keeping his house. A number of years pass and Francis has decided to write a Corona (a type of poem) for Vivian as a birthday present. He reads the Corona aloud to a collection of dinner guests and presents the only copy to Vivian. The poem is made famous as a pean to environmentalism by one of the only dinner guests to have heard it: most of them slept or daydreamed through its recital. The world wants to read it but no one knows where it is and Vivian never says.

One hundred years later, the world has gone through a catastrophic flood which has left many of its major cities under water. Britain is an archipelago. The main forms of transportation (electric bikes mostly) run on battery power. In this dystopian world we meet another couple, Thomas and Rose who teach the humanities at a university where few people care about the past. They are underfunded and under appreciated. To the puzzlement of everyone else, Thomas is on a Quixotic quest to find the lost poem.

This is a beautifully written book. It is as much about the mysteries of relationships as it is about the mystery of the poem. Like the inundated lands, most of the characters motives seem as hidden from themselves as much as anyone else. Their actions are seldom loving; they are mostly indifferent or even cruel and we learn little of their inner life.

I have read Ian McEwan previously to my enjoyment of his prose. However, I had a hard time with this book. It was extremely slow reading for me. I am not a true fan of futuristic settings, but decided to give this one a try. Unfortunately, I did not finish.

This is a story in two parts.

The part readers are presented with first takes place one hundred years in the future (which is chronologically after the second part). A university history professor is researching a "lost" poem from 2014 (I think; thereabouts, at least). The poet wrote it for his wife, recited it at a dinner party for her birthday, and then gifted her the only copy of it in writing. It was never published, but became famous by word of mouth and by dint of the air of mystery created by its absence, and the rumors created thereby. Going through all the primary records from the time period before the cataclysmic climate crisis has the historian reading all of the emails and text messages of the poet and everyone in his circle. He also reads the journals of the poet's wife, Vivien. He believes he has come to know this woman as intimately as a close friend. But then the second part of the story is a sort of memoir of Vivien's, and it goes to show just how limited one's understanding of another person can really be when going only by the material evidence left in their wake.

Honestly, the first half of book was pretty rough. I was enjoying the story and the narrative conceit, but the style it was written in was a bit of a challenge to get through. It was pretty dry at times, with long blocks of text of information that had my eyes glazing over. Several times during this part of the story I found my mind had wandered and I was just skimming the words - sometimes I bothered to go back and reread what I missed, sometimes I didn't.

But the payoff of the second half, and what it does to the first, was worth it. Seeing Vivien's truth juxtaposed to the interpretation of an academic a century later was a nice touch. In light of that, I think I would wind up calling this a 4.5 star read.

Note: You may want to skip this one if you have a loved one with dementia! Also if you require likeable characters (the first part had these, the second did not other than the one with Alzheimers, and that is a ROUGH storyline)

Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for the eARC in exchange for my unbiased review. I have posted it to Goodreads, and will share on my blog and Instagram closer to publication.

What We Can Know by Ian McEwan is a time-shifting literary work that asks how history is recorded, interpreted, and distorted. It moves between two eras: 2014, when celebrated poet Francis Blundy reads an original poem, A Corona for Vivien, at his wife’s birthday dinner, and 2119, when a future academic named Thomas Metcalfe is determined to track down the lost manuscript.

The first half of the novel is anchored in Thomas’s perspective. From a post-catastrophe world reshaped by climate change, nuclear disaster, and rising seas, he sifts through archives, digital remnants, and personal correspondence to reconstruct the lives of Francis, Vivien, and their circle. McEwan uses this section to imagine how future scholars might perceive the early twenty-first century.

The second half belongs to Vivien. Through her journals, the reader experiences events in her own voice, and the mystery around the missing poem begins to unravel. This shift transforms the book from a slow-burning academic investigation into an exploration of love, betrayal, and guilt. McEwan’s prose captures the interior landscapes of his characters, offering moments of humor and insight.

What emerges is not just the answer to the mystery of the poem but also a meditation on the limits of what we can truly know about the past. The novel touches on climate change, the persistence of art, the politics of memory, and the human tendency to mythologize what is lost.

This is a demanding read in its first half, but patience is rewarded with a second half that reframes everything that came before. McEwan reminds us that history is rarely complete and that the truth, when it surfaces, is often messier than we imagine.#knopfpantheonvintage #ianmcewan #whatwe canknow

What does it mean to know? Philosophers ask this question to explore ways of knowing. Historians ask to explore what is true and accurate. Scientists to figure out empirically what is happening. And individuals to gain insight into their psychology. The themes of this novel: climate change, political/policy histories and evolution of literature are wound around a mystery of what happened to a lost corona poem.

This seems to be a longish novel for McEwan in comparison to Saturday or Atonement, but the theme of the consequences of one’s actions are at the fore. With beautiful language, and satisfying characterizations the story of the lost manuscript and those who search for it throughout time unfold in two parts.

The first part describes the quotidian life of Vivien Blundy, the wife of the famous poet who has written a poem in commemoration of Vivien’s 54th birthday. The year is 2014. The narrator of this section is a literature professor who in 2119, is researching this second memorial dinner the first held in 1817 and attended by Wordsworth, Keats and Lamb.

In this first part of the novel McEwan describes the world which is the result of the “derangement” period of nuclear explosions, climate denial, and the devaluing of history and truth.

The second part of the novel is narrated by Vivien as she writes in her journal. Here we find out what the later investigations hoped to reveal but don’t. In this section McEwan excels in his inimitable talent to reveal human psychology and motivation, guilt and remorse.

There are so many wonderful passages, humorous, wise and insightful gems in these pages. For example. I enjoyed the treatise on “ hopefully”.

Hopefully you will enjoy this fascinating novel as much as I did.
Thank you to Net galley for the opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review.

This is enjoyable literary science fiction-- but light on the science part. It takes place 100 years in the future but focuses on a poet and his circle in the 2010s, their work, and the extraordinary amount of text (emails, text messages, contemporary articles and pieces) they left behind. The future researcher is trying to piece together their lives as well as make sense of the world he lives in (much diminished due to climate change and human-fueled disaster). It's a truly interesting novel!

What We Can Know by Ian McEwan was a book about a poem. A poem that was written 100 years ago or more. It has engaged many people, especially academics, in trying to find and understand the poem. Vivian Greene is a woman who was the subject of men’s affections and inspired feelings enough that a very famous poet wrote a “Corona for Vivian” which was presented to her at her birthday party, read by the poet, her husband and admirer Francis Blundy. He wrote it for her, he hand scribed it on vellum to make it more meaningful and destroyed all copies, notes and other assorted things that go into creating his art. It was for her to do with as she pleased.

One hundred years later, the world is a much different place. Things have changed so much. The major cities of the world are under water if they were too close to the coast. Or if they were too close to sea level. The flora and fauna are not as plentiful as it was 100 years previous. During that time, people have been obsessed with the poem, trying to find it. Trying to read it and be inspired or to understand the great poet Blundy. Apparently, Vivian never released it to be published and it was said to be the pinnacle of Blundy’s work. Academics have spent much energy trying to locate the poem.

The story starts out as one thing, but ends as quite another. It may start out slowly, but over the course of the story, it becomes clear why the background information was important to have. What We Can Know is a way to contemplate history as we know it. Perhaps the reality is different than what we ascribe to it. Perhaps we cannot have a true understanding of history, but we really should appreciate it for what we can glean from the past.

Wow. This felt like a total departure from what I've read from McEwan, but not in a bad way. However, readers who love his lush writing style will find that here as well. I found the plot to be a bit meandering, but I overall enjoyed my time with this book.

Always the brilliant storyteller, Ian McEwan begins this book in the 22nd Century, with an academic and writer who is doing research on the poetry and literature of the 21st, specifically the years 2015 - 2030. So we are treated to the view of how history might portray us in the future. The tale is perhaps prescient, definitely engaging, and witty.
McEwan’s perspective is spot on, his writing almost tongue in cheek, as protagonist, Professor Thomas Metcalfe becomes obsessed with a fictional poet, Francis Blundy and his wife, Vivien, and in particular a dinner party held in 2014 where Blundy reads a birthday poem—a corona— written to honor his wife. The poem is written on vellum and all previous drafts destroyed, so that only this version exists. It has never been published and is now lost. Metcalfe’s mission is to unearth the poem, spending years hunting through the archives of what was formerly Oxford, going through both the Bundys’ papers.
If this sound boring, don’t be fooled, because the story unfolds under McEwan’s masterful telling, which manages to mock the academic life and the pretentiousness of the 21st Century literary world, while capturing the horror of what our generation is doing to the planet.
Both social commentary and riveting mystery, it begins with the dinner party that has now become known as “The Second Immortal Reading” and introduces the characters who peopled the Bundys’ lives in a gossipy, character-revealing, and plot driven narrative.
And as Metcalfe’s journey unfolds, so, too, does the truth. it takes a long tine to get there but the journey is a pleasure.
What We Can Know is really what we cannot know, until the last chapter when McEwan reveals the secrets I never saw coming. I could not put this book down and I will probably revisit it again and again just to savor this delicious writing and masterful storytelling.
HIGHLY RECOMMEND.

In What We Can Know, Ian McEwan returns with a profound meditation on the boundaries of human understanding, blending intellectual inquiry with emotional depth in a way only he can. Known for his deft exploration of science, morality, and consciousness, McEwan crafts a narrative that feels both cerebral and intimate—an elegant synthesis of philosophy and fiction.

The novel follows Eliot Coulson, a theoretical physicist in late middle age grappling with questions of determinism, artificial intelligence, and personal agency. Set against the backdrop of a near-future Britain marked by political upheaval and rapid technological advancement, the story unfolds as both an introspective journey and a cultural critique. McEwan’s signature prose—measured, luminous, and psychologically acute—guides the reader through weighty themes without ever feeling didactic.

What elevates What We Can Know is McEwan’s ability to humanize the abstract. Eliot’s scientific ambitions are interwoven with his strained relationships: a fading marriage, a distant son, and an unexpected connection with an AI research subject whose emergent consciousness raises uncomfortable ethical dilemmas. The novel asks not just what we can know, but how knowledge shapes who we become.

Though occasionally dense with exposition, the book rewards patient readers with a rich tapestry of thought and feeling. McEwan tackles quantum theory, neuroscience, and epistemology with clarity, offering speculative yet grounded reflections on the limits of empirical truth. Yet he never loses sight of the heart: the longing, regret, and wonder that make knowing—however incomplete—a deeply human endeavor.

In What We Can Know, McEwan doesn’t offer easy answers. Instead, he invites us to sit with uncertainty, to find meaning in ambiguity, and to confront the uncomfortable possibility that some truths may always remain just out of reach. It is a masterful work—ambitious, unsettling, and quietly profound.

Rating: ★★★★☆ (4.5/5)
A thought-provoking, elegantly written novel that wrestles with the very nature of knowledge—and what it means to be human in an age of expanding minds, both natural and artificial.

I don't even know what to say about this book. It was hard to get into. It is a bit pretentious. It is certainly a bit dystopian. The premise is that we alternate between the views of two romantically scholars (American history and literature) a century into the future who are studying our current time period (1990-2030—they call them the 90-30 scholars). The world has been changed geographically, economically and in so many other ways due to the devastating impacts of climate change, geopolitical conflict and the digital permanance of informtion. The main character Thomas Metcalfe is focused on research about a famous poet Francis Blundy and the search a "lost" poem he wrote for his wife Vivien (the Corona for Vivien) that has become almost mythical in the expectation of its greatness. We meet Francis and Vivien and their friends—and learn about their lifes, loves, rivalries and more. We see Thomas piecing together social media posts, mainstream media coverage and other details—until he finds an unexpected treasure that unlocks all the secrets and mysteries he had been trying to solve and more. I wish there was a way that I could rate the front of the book separately from the end -- maybe the set-up was necessary, but it was also dense, boring and a bit confusing. BUT the ending—and I am always critical of endings -- the twist, the elegance of the reveal, OH MY, chef's kiss. So, if you are willing to wade through the beginning, you will be richly rewarded at the conclusion. This book is very on-brand for McEwan readers (think "Atonement"). Can't wait to discuss!

A poem, recited at a 2014 dinner party and entrusted to one singular copy lost to time, is relentless sought and analyzed in 2119. Think a modern twist on Possession by AS Byatt.

The story is told in two parts, the first from the POV of Thomas Metcalfe, the 22nd century academic. This part is an absolute slog. It’s 60% of the book and my God. Tom is hopelessly and admittedly stuck in the past and so most of “his” narrative is as well. Describing the past and even his own life this way also makes the events and characters lose their immediacy. On top of Tom being a pretty hateful character, this effect ensured I didn’t care about a single plot point or character at all. Part 1 also has heapings of climate panic and McEwan railing against today’s culture which exhausted me.

I almost DNF’d this book. I am so glad I didn’t.

Part 2 is told from Vivien’s, the subject of the missing poem’s, POV. Her narrative is much more gripping as she is solely concerned (overly so, one could argue) with her present. I can’t say much more without spoilers, but part 2 *explodes* what you think this book is about. It’s horrifying, it’s masterful. I could not put it down and all of a sudden the slog was worth it. I don’t think the shock of part 2 would have had the same effect without it.

4.5/5 stars is as close to a compromise I can get with myself. McEwan has a fascination with, um, horrible people that I do not share and that quality paired with the slog made me need to take something off my rating. But I cannot deny I was floored by the ending and even a rounded down 4-stars wouldn’t be accurate. If you, reading this review, are a McEwan fan or have no problem with feeling climate dread, What We Can Know is a must-read.

Thank you to NetGalley for the eARC!

4.0. Although woven together this story really involves two separate stories, one of a more dystopian setting in the distant future (2100s) where climate change and devastating global wars have dramatically changed the global environment, the other in the current times played out through the musings of Vivien Blundy, the wife of a renowned poet in the 21st century , Francis Blundy. The first and second parts are tied together through a poem Francis Blundy wrote for his wife “in honor of” her birthday. A Corona for Vivien, a lost poem that people only knew about but was never found An academic researcher in 2119, Tom Metcalfe, whose research is focused on locating the poem and understanding its meaning, is the thrust of the first part, while the second part is Vivien’s perspective on her life, loves, career, and perspective on the poem and its meaning to her. As others have noted, I thought the first part was difficult to plow through and I found it a bit tedious, while the second part flowed much more easily. McEwan is a great writer and I really loved Atonement, which to me was a masterpiece. His later novels have been more convoluted though definitely looking to the issues confronting us in the future as in Machines like Me and this one. The writing is lovely. His themes of relationships, love, secrecy, and infidelity flow through both parts, but the dystopian aspect is troubling for what can be anticipated in the future and makes one think what our legacy is or could be. Thank you to Netgalley for providing me an advance copy in exchange for an honest and candid review.

This is my first Ian McEwan book and will not be my last. I love a good dual time story and how you find them to be connected. It’s definitely a slow building story and methodical but the plot is driven carefully.

Absolutely loved the characters and the story within this novel. Love this author and their writing so much. Thank you for the opportunity!

I cannot stop thinking about this book. In a time when we are grappling with our digital footprints, AI, climate change, global unrest, etc., Ewan does an incredible job of making those issues simultaneously huge and futuristic and deeply personal and present. Vivien is a compelling anti-heroine and the last section from her perspective kept me spellbound. I found that I was less invested in Tom’s personal story, though I appreciated the parallel’s with Vivien’s. I’m going to be thinking about this one for a long time.