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I finished, and started, On Chesil Beach yesterday. It was a thought provoking novella. A description of the consequences of living in your own viewpoint and  failing, sometimes deliberately, to grasp the other perspective.

I’ve read other reviews that said it was a book of its time, as if that situation could only have arisen in the early 1960s and no other. Yet, whilst I’m willing to be persuaded that the particular situation would be difficult to create in such a sexually open society as ours, I’m not sure about similar situations that could arise from the wider themes that wove themselves through the book. The basis of the tragedy seemed to arise from her upper middle-class reserve and his lower middle-class  lack of restraint in actions and words, mingled with a clash of gender behavioural types. And I think these problems are still present: we do not live in a classless society and children are still brought up in their own gender bubble with scant regard to the perspective of the other sex (massive generalisation obviously).

Back to the book: at  the end I was somewhat disappointed. Generally I was pulled along by the sensual prose and a feeling of terrible loss, and that it could all have been so avoidable if only someone had spoken, and then the end seemed to heavily pause and try to hammer home a message that had already been spoken much more emotively.

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