Atonement: Metaphors 7 key examples

The similes also show how the soldiers, traumatized and worn out, no longer move or behave as they did in the past. Instead, it makes more sense to abstract them to inanimate objects and features of nature or compare them to animals, foreigners, or fictional characters.

Robbie's first impression, upon arriving at Bray Dunes, is the "ten, twenty thousand" soldiers "spread across the vastness of the beach." The narrator uses a simile to capture Robbie's perspective: "In the distance they were like grains of black sand." As he looks at the men who have dug themselves holes "from which they peeped out, proprietorial and smug," Robbie thinks to himself that they're "like marmots." The "majority of the army," however, are more "like citizens of an Italian town [...]."

Robbie and the corporals end up in a bar, where a group of soldiers gangs up violently on an RAF clerk. Again, McEwan uses similes to describe the soldiers' behavior and movements. The narrator compares the pilot to "a mole in bright light." And when Corporal Mace hatches a plan to save the man, he makes a roar "like the bellowing of a speared bull." He also yodels "like Johnny Weissmuller’s Tarzan." This is an allusion to the film adaptation of Tarzan, in which the Olympic swimmer Johnny Weissmuller played the titular hero. When the crowd of soldiers runs out of the bar, the crowd explodes through the doors "like champagne." As Robbie and Corporal Nettle move on from the experience at the bar, Robbie feels as though they are emerging from a dream.

Briony's preoccupation with language is informed by her self-image, given that she first and foremost sees herself as a writer. Early in the first chapter, the narrator captures her fascination with the world-building made possible by language: "falling in love could be achieved in a single word—a glance." In the third chapter, she feels awe to think that "You saw the word castle and it was there." Over the course of the novel, Briony learns that words can have much more dire consequences. They can inspire fear, they can turn people against their friends, and they can even convict innocent people. In the third part, she thinks about how "the words that had convicted [Robbie] had been her very own."

The novel's first forbidden word is "divorce," an "unthinkable obscenity" that the Quincey children fear. In the fifth chapter, Pierrot and Lola freeze when Jackson says that they can't go home because their parents are going through a divorce: "The word had never been used in front of the children, and never uttered by them." As the oldest of the siblings, Lola attempts to discipline the boys' language use: “You will never ever use that word again. D’you hear me?”

The novel's second, and much more significant, forbidden word appears in the vulgar letter draft that Robbie accidentally sends to Cecilia via Briony. As he struggles to articulate himself in the eighth chapter, he writes the following sentences on a whim: “In my dreams I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt. In my thoughts I make love to you all day long.”

As Cecilia reads the letter, she is struck by the "unit of meaning whose force and color was derived from the single repeated word." Similarly, Briony feels as though she has "seen an unspeakable word." Already, the actual word ("cunt") has been replaced by the label "word." This sets the standard for the way the narrator refers to the letter in the rest of the novel, evoking the shock that Briony and Cecilia felt when reading it. The letter is reduced to a single word, and the specific word is reduced to the general linguistic category to which it belongs. 

In the 10th chapter, McEwan uses personification and metaphor to represent Briony's distress and disgust. The word dances through her thoughts like "a typographical demon, juggling vague, insinuating anagrams." Just like the Quincey children know that their parents are going through a divorce despite the label never having been used in their presence, Briony has no doubt about what the word references, even if "she had never heard the word spoken, or seen it in print" and "no one in her presence had ever referred to the word’s existence." This is not only because of the context, but also because she feels that "the word was at one with its meaning, [...] almost onomatopoeic." This rich passage shows that Briony's preoccupation with individual words is not only informed by her writerly disposition, but also also by her intermediary position between childhood and adulthood. Her fear of the body and uncertainties regarding sex manifests itself as a fear of language itself. 

Divorce plays an important role in the first part, as Lola, Jackson, and Pierrot come stay with the Tallises because their parents, Hermione and Cecil, are splitting up. Nevertheless, this circumstance goes unnamed for the children—no one has ever uttered the word "divorce" out loud around them. Yet, even if the Quincey children have yet to receive a direct and thorough explanation, they still have a sense of what is going on. When adults neglect to use language in clear ways to help children make sense of confusing ideas or challenging situations, children often rely on imagination or storytelling.

All three of the Quincey children are horrified when Jackson utters the word for the first time. McEwan divides their experience of the word into several layers. First, they confront the word simply in terms of its sound: "The soft consonants suggested an unthinkable obscenity, the sibilant ending whispered the family’s shame." Then, they understand the word for its effect rather than for its meaning: "for all he could tell, saying it out loud was as great a crime as the act itself, whatever that was." As Lola attempts to reprimand her little brother, the word "divorce" is not repeated. Rather, she refers to it as "that," "that word," and "the word." When Jackson threatens that he will "tell The Parents" if Lola hits him, the narrator metaphorically describes his invocation of their parents as "a ruined totem of a lost golden age." In this metaphor, divorce is implicitly understood as a destructive force that destroys relics of history—and empties them of the influence they once held. The Quincey children abstract divorce to manage their fear of it.

Although it doesn't impact her directly, Briony also conceives of divorce through abstraction. Situated on the sidelines of the upheaval in her cousins' lives, Briony sees them as "refugees from a bitter domestic civil war." Although this metaphor is rather dramatic, the narrator underlines that Briony is not all that touched by their predicament. In a second metaphor, the narrator describes divorce as "a mundane unraveling that could not be reversed." Briony, who is fixated on how the people and events around her might contribute to her writing, finds this mundane unraveling to offer "no opportunities to the storyteller." She sees storytelling as a way to instill order and lacks interest in divorce because it belongs "in the realm of disorder." The narrator also uses personification to capture Briony's conception of divorce, stating that "it showed an unglamorous face of dull complexity and incessant wrangling." Briony's limited empathy for her cousins is partly informed by her view of divorce only through figurative terms. 

Although Cecilia is not yet introduced by name, this instance of juxtaposition is the first time she's mentioned in the narrative. The imagery of the big sister's cluttered room, a metaphorical stew, is the complete opposite of Briony's metaphorical shrine. Nevertheless, the reader's first impression of the younger sister is not necessarily more favorable than that of the older, as the diction of "possessed" and "demon" make Briony's preference for order seem overzealous. In fact, the imagery of the miniature animals all lined up perfectly can almost feel disturbing. This uneasy impression extends to the description of Briony's dollhouse, where the dolls are positioned as though they were "a citizen’s army awaiting orders." The narrator goes on to connect Briony's love of order to a lack of secrets: "Her wish for a harmonious, organized world denied her the reckless possibilities of wrongdoing." This will become important, as Cecilia's more chaotic tendencies come to be associated with her rich and complicated inner life. It also foreshadows Briony's looming wrongdoing.

In the second chapter, the narrator focuses on Cecilia, confirming the impression the reader has already formed: "Cecilia knew she could not go on wasting her days in the stews of her untidied room, lying on her bed in a haze of smoke." It appears that Cecilia is fully aware of her mess but doesn't mind it. What bothers her is familiarity; she longs to escape the comfortable order of her home life. As she stands by the fountain, for example, the view down the drive gives "an impression of timeless, unchanging calm which made her more certain than ever that she must soon be moving on." And later in the first part, when she helps the twins get dressed for dinner, a vague resolution enters her thoughts: "she had to get away." In this chapter, order and familiarity take on a negative connotation. Cecilia feels confined and stifled by the harmony of the Tallis household.

Order and disorder continue to play a central role in the novel, especially in Robbie's experiences from the war and Briony's experiences at the hospital. Moreover, McEwan suggests that Briony's penchant for order is her reason for writing, as storytelling is a way for her to create order in a tumultuous world. In fact, the novel ends with an elderly Briony instilling order in her life, as she prepares for sickness, memory loss, death and the end of her story.

The metaphor in this passage shows that Emily is accustomed to her migraines. At first, the presence of the sleeping animal almost seems comforting. As the narrator develops the metaphor further, however, it becomes clear that Emily lives at its mercy. Although the animal "[bears] her no malice" and is "indifferent to her misery," it still holds total control over her. As Emily feels it "begin to stir," she reorients her thoughts to appease it.

Over the course of the chapter, the reader learns more about this "animal," as the narrator elaborates on its appearance and effect. For example, a simile brings the reader from imagining it as a general animalistic being to a specific kind of animal: "It would move as a caged panther might: because it was awake, out of boredom, for the sake of movement itself, or for no reason at all, and with no awareness." The narrator consolidates the panther comparison, referring to it as a "black-furred creature."

The narrator makes it clear that Emily's migraine is subsiding by saying that "the presence of her animal tormentor" is "beginning to fade." It is worth noting the possessive pronoun here. The "her" suggests that Emily identifies with her migraines. Because of how substantially the migraine controls her life, she claims it as her own. Emily absorbs the metaphorical animal and the pain it stands for such that it informs her self-perception.

Finally, as the chapter ends, Emily becomes able to rearrange her pillows and sit up in bed. The narrator's final contribution to the extended metaphor is to say that Emily's creature has "slunk away," leading the reader to understand that it will come back later.

By giving certainty and uncertainty visual and tactile qualities, McEwan plays with Briony's conviction that there is a greater truth to find beyond the visible. Throughout her testimony, she feels frustrated over everyone's emphasis on what she saw: "Less like seeing, more like knowing."

Soon after, in a simile, McEwan compares Briony to a bride-to-be with second thoughts:

She was like a bride-to-be who begins to feel her sickening qualms as the day approaches, and dares not speak her mind because so many preparations have been made on her behalf. The happiness and convenience of so many good people would be put at risk. [...] Briony did not wish to cancel the whole arrangement.

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There is a certain amount of irony in this simile, as there is little "happiness and convenience" to be found in the situation Briony has created. For most everyone besides Paul, she has caused unhappiness and inconvenience. However, the simile captures the feeling of being a child whose invention or small lie brings major consequences. Like a metaphorical bride who would rather protect other people's feelings than express her true emotions, Briony prefers to stick to the mess she has made than to create another mess.

McEwan metaphorically compares this mess to a "labyrinth of her own construction," which Briony has trapped herself in. She is "too young, too awestruck, too keen to please" to try to make her way out of it. Returning briefly to the wedding metaphor, McEwan describes an "imposing congregation" which "massed itself around her first certainties." The congregation is standing there waiting, and she feels unwilling to "disappoint it at the altar."

The first paragraph of the 14th chapter offers yet another metaphor to describe the guilt and confusion of being wrong:

How guilt refined the methods of self-torture, threading the beads of detail into an eternal loop, a rosary to be fingered for a lifetime.

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Drawing on Roman Catholicism, which is concerned with guilt and repentance, McEwan presents the details that make up Briony's memories as rosary beads. Because these metaphorical beads are arranged on a circular string, Briony is doomed to run through the details of her memories forever.

By giving certainty and uncertainty visual and tactile qualities, McEwan plays with Briony's conviction that there is a greater truth to find beyond the visible. Throughout her testimony, she feels frustrated over everyone's emphasis on what she saw: "Less like seeing, more like knowing."

Soon after, in a simile, McEwan compares Briony to a bride-to-be with second thoughts:

She was like a bride-to-be who begins to feel her sickening qualms as the day approaches, and dares not speak her mind because so many preparations have been made on her behalf. The happiness and convenience of so many good people would be put at risk. [...] Briony did not wish to cancel the whole arrangement.

Cite this Quote

There is a certain amount of irony in this simile, as there is little "happiness and convenience" to be found in the situation Briony has created. For most everyone besides Paul, she has caused unhappiness and inconvenience. However, the simile captures the feeling of being a child whose invention or small lie brings major consequences. Like a metaphorical bride who would rather protect other people's feelings than express her true emotions, Briony prefers to stick to the mess she has made than to create another mess.

McEwan metaphorically compares this mess to a "labyrinth of her own construction," which Briony has trapped herself in. She is "too young, too awestruck, too keen to please" to try to make her way out of it. Returning briefly to the wedding metaphor, McEwan describes an "imposing congregation" which "massed itself around her first certainties." The congregation is standing there waiting, and she feels unwilling to "disappoint it at the altar."

The first paragraph of the 14th chapter offers yet another metaphor to describe the guilt and confusion of being wrong:

How guilt refined the methods of self-torture, threading the beads of detail into an eternal loop, a rosary to be fingered for a lifetime.

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Drawing on Roman Catholicism, which is concerned with guilt and repentance, McEwan presents the details that make up Briony's memories as rosary beads. Because these metaphorical beads are arranged on a circular string, Briony is doomed to run through the details of her memories forever.

Even if the war has not yet arrived at the hospital at the start of the third part, the nurse trainees nevertheless wage a metaphorical war:

Between tasks, perhaps a dozen times a day, the students scrubbed their cracked and bleeding chilblained hands under freezing water. The war against germs never ceased. The probationers were initiated into the cult of hygiene.

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The blood on the nurses' hands establishes a parallel between them and the soldiers. It is almost as though, in order to prepare for the eventual arrival of the traumatized and injured soldiers, the nurses have to go through a certain amount of pain themselves. As the sisters instill the hospital's standards in the trainees, they train them to see the pursuit of hygiene as a war.

Other elements of the trainees' experience mirrors that of the soldiers in France. For example, at the end of every day, tiredness comes over the nurses, "heavy as three folded blankets." This simile brings to mind the extreme exhaustion of Robbie and the soldiers at the end of the second part. Moreover, the heavy blankets in the simile are reminiscent of the soldiers' great coats.