A page-long description of the making, offering, and drinking of a cup of coffee tells us more about an attempt to mend a relationship than what the parties are thinking and feeling.
The parties are Fiona Maye, a British Family High Court judge who presides over court cases both complex and banal, and her husband Jack, an ancient history professor who is approaching 60 and wants one big passionate affair, without deception.
Fiona juggles her demanding professional life, as ''a secular god'' for children whose welfare is paramount, with a home life that has completely changed after 30 years of marriage.
The juxtaposition of her loftily pronouncing judgements on bitter divorcing couples, while simultaneously arranging to have the locks changed at her own home is not lost on this intelligent woman, but she struggles to understand her own emotions.
Then she is handed a case involving a 17-year-old boy, Adam, suffering from leukaemia, and his devout Jehovah's Witness parents, all three objecting to a life-saving blood transfusion.
She deftly handles all sides in court; the medical staff, the parents, and the social worker representing Adam, but then decides to visit the teenager in hospital.
At the heart of the matter lies the question of whether or not an adolescent knows his own mind.
As events unfold, it's questionable as to whether Fiona, almost 60, knows hers indeed, do any of us fully know our inner selves, at any stage of life?
Both their lives are changed by the conversation and decision that follows, with far-reaching consequences.
I had already wondered how Fiona's judgements, (and similar ones in real life), work in practice, especially long term.
If one party is still aggrieved, or simply changes their mind, then often no-one ends up happy.
At just over 200 pages, the book could be read in one or two sittings.
However, every page made me think and it was good to have time to consider how I would feel or react in each situation.
These varied from relationship dilemmas, to court cases involving religious differences, for example unequally Orthodox Jewish parents, or medical uncertainties, e.g. separating Siamese twins.
Is it the place of the legal court to judge moral, ethical or religious values?
McEwan himself is no stranger to the family court, having won full custody of both his sons after a lengthy battle with his first wife.
The book is well-researched, containing many excerpts from actual judgements made by historical figures, and quoting UK Acts.
Only two judges are fictitious, the main character, Fiona, and a colleague who relates a lawyer joke, an oldie but a goodie!
London's familiar landmarks appear and it rains nearly the whole time.
The book is quite sombre, none of the farce of Solar, and certainly more compact than Atonement and Saturday.
There are digressions, and minutiae, but a lot of challenges to engage with, and the prose is polished.
At times it was hard to put the book down, but I also found myself prolonging the process, rereading passages, taking time to reflect, and generally savouring the experience.
• Rachel Gurney is an avid Dunedin reader.
