What We Can Know by Ian McEwan (2025): A Review

Title: What We Can Know

Author: Ian McEwan

Publication Year: 2025

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Pages: 320

Source: ebook

Genre: literary fiction, historical fiction, Science Fiction, Dystopia, Speculative Fiction

First of all, What Can We Know? Absolutely nothing!

I honestly don’t know how to review this book, because I was having the time of my life reading it while also being immensely annoyed by it. I was glued to the pages, deeply annoyed by the characters, and distinctly uncomfortable ever siding with or even empathising with anyone Ian McEwan puts on the page. At this point, I’m convinced it’s his signature move: make the reader squirm by the end, all by dragging out secrets that really should have stayed buried with no expiration date.

This book is shelved as Science Fiction, Dystopia, Climate Change, Speculative… which is cute, but where are mystery, thriller, crime, and campus novel in that list? If you show up for one genre, you’ll leave with an armful of others and find yourself wonderfully confused somewhere around the middle, also wondering how it is classified as a Science Fiction or Dystopian novel, and how soon I forget there is a climate change genre somewhere in the story.

The novel is split into two timelines. The first part is narrated by Tom (a character I frequently wanted to slap), who has spent years obsessively researching a lost corona supposedly written by the poet Francis Blundy. Tom lives at least a century after our present, yet he’s fixated on our time and on this elusive poem. And no, before you panic, we are not talking about COVID; corona here is a form of poetry, not a virus.

Through Tom’s narration, we get to know the famous poet Francis Blundy, his family, and the people orbiting him. Strangely enough, the more we learn, the more it feels like neither Francis nor the corona should truly be the centre of this story; it’s Vivien, his wife, quietly pulling all the emotional weight. Meanwhile, in Tom’s own present, we also learn about Tom and the people around him, but he doesn’t have many people around him, which is what happens when you devote your entire life to chasing the ghosts of the past instead of living in your own time.

The second part is narrated from Vivien’s point of view and finally tells us what really happened in her life, including her life before and with Francis. I had been rooting for Vivien from the very beginning, not because Tom is infatuated with her or because he praises her more than she deserves, but because she’s genuinely fascinating. She feels like the person who should have been at the centre of the narrative from page one, as I mentioned before. McEwan clearly knew that too, because he gives her the stage in the second half.

And then, within a few pages of finally getting Vivien’s story, I immediately regretted wishing for more. Her side is heartbreaking, disturbing, and deeply uncomfortable to read. Yet despite everything, I couldn’t help but empathise with her. Vivien, and especially Vivien with Percy (first husband), lingers in your mind long after you close the book.

As for the narration and style, I loved the structure, the plot twists, the slowly revealed secrets, and the way McEwan draws all characters as flawed, frustrating, but unforgettable figures. The pacing, the dual timelines, the gradual shift in our sympathies, it all works together beautifully.

That’s about all I can say without spoiling the fun. Pick this one up, especially for a book club. It’s a blast to read together, compare conspiracy theories from the early chapters, and then scream collectively as each new revelation lands.