A book about writing books. A young woman (with highly erratic tastes in men) joins MI5 in the early 1970s, and gets involved with a scheme to financially back "sympathetic" writers. 
 It's slightly "russian doll" at times as there are stories within the story, which is probably what held my interest through to the last page. 
 My main issue with this book is that it is so knowingly smug. At a couple of points McEwan introduces his real life close chum Martin Amis. I have to say, the smug knowingness of these pointless inclusions left me tempted to ditch the book and not bother with the rest of it. 
 Another problem I have with it is that there are some parts which really stretch credibility. The unlikely love affair between a maths student and an ageing lecturer was bad enough, but then the sequences in which he coaches her for her interview exam for MI5 were just too ridiculous for words. 
 I'd have given it two stars but have upped it, grudgingly, to three for the twist at the end which was mildly interesting (although delivered over about twenty horribly smug pages at the end). 
 Actually, sod it. Two stars it is.