Not read any of the others and not a fan of McEwan but the McEwans I've read have always had a postmodern, self-referential thing going on with them. In fact that's what is often most infuriating about them.
A bit like Ishiguro, actually. Writing about the real world but almost always through an unreliable/subjective lens that calls attention to the dishonest business of telling stories.
The master of this – what would you call it: 'qualified realism'? – (and Luka's favourite author) is surely (luka's favourite author and 'hero') Philip Roth.
I read a bit of 'Middlemarch' last year (the same bit that most people probably manage before they subconsciously decide that life's too short – no that's unfair, it is brillaint, but can't it be released in fragments and delivered to my solitary confinement cell?) and it was really jarring to have this realist narrative with a narrator who constantly tells you exactly what they think of such and such a character and uses the events in the narrative as a springboard for various philosophical disquisitions
My darling Kate.
Unequivocally our love was fate.
I fell in love with you at first sight.
I remember cos I was as high as a kite. Those beautiful eyes made me shiver.
I'm not going to lie I think of you I dream of you.
Can't help thinking pulling you was my greatest ever coup.
That stomach those abs,
those pictures you send so I can keep tabs.
You make me feel funny down there. Especially when you're there and you look up and stare.
I am beginning to think you are always right.
That's OK it will keep us tight.
I'm gonna end by saying you are my love, my friend, my soul.
And most of all you believe in me which makes me as hard as a totem pole.
Reading Lustra, maybe not his best book but fascinating to see all these other little poems in the same vein as In a Station at the Metro for the first time, and see how all his diverse early work (got copies of the collected shorter poems and the collected translations to read now) fed into the Cantos.