As the Good Book tells us “There is nothing new under the sun.” It has long been my contention that it is not necessary to be original, only authentic. Nevertheless, the demand that writers produce thoroughly original works persists in producing its share of scandals and controversies. To be sure, the ability to support artistic creation by paying authors their due depends upon establishing just who the author is. But origination is a slippery fish of another stripe.

The origin of this post was the trailer for “Atonement”, a new movie set for release in October based on the award winning book of the same title by Ian McEwan. The appearance of James McAvoy grabbed me. He’s been a favorite of mine since his leading role in “Children of Dune”. Keira Knightley’s presence in another bright, British romance portended a new Jane Austen adaptation. But this is no light affair and these two fine actors to not bear the roles at the center of the story.

Backgrounding the author turned up just the type of controversy which I mentioned earlier in which McEwan was accused of lifting passages of his book from the memoirs of an aging romance novelist. Her experience as a nurse in WWII bears some resemblance to that of the central character in “Atonement” who is pressed into service by the guilt of jealously foiling the budding romance between McAvoy and Knightley, inadvertently sending the young man to the front lines of the raging war.

The case against Mr. McEwan ultimately served as an example of how far beyond reason the call for pure originality could go. Charles Isherwood in a 2006 column for the International Herald Tribune amusingly illustrates the point as he tries to preemptively defend himself against charges of plagiarism from his colleague Alan Cowell.

If any there be, it’s because I got my notes mixed up. Or call it a witty form of literary homage to Cowell. Or maybe it’s because certain words in the English language - “the” comes to mind - are well nigh unavoidable. Oh, dear! Looking back I must apologize for my use of the phrase “best-selling novel,” the very same words Cowell employed in describing “Atonement.” I am aghast. I should have said “McEwan’s novel ‘Atonement,’ which flew off the shelves like a massive flock of birds heading southward in the gloaming over the windswept moors.” Or something like that, to differentiate my description from Cowell’s. A grave mistake.

Wait a minute. “Grave mistake” sounds eerily familiar. Egad! So does “eerily familiar.” I must get back to you in a few hours, after an exhaustive Google search that will doubtless allow me to credit any and all authors who have used those phrases.

Eerie indeed! The origins of artistic works often come from unmappable (or unGoggleable, trademark that) territories of the mind. In a revealing Summer 2002 interview McEwan recounts how this imaginary little girl came to him in his garden and so intrigued him that he had to find out who she was. Upon furher investigation he discovered that she would become a great novelist and he immediately set out to construct a style for her cobbled together from the writings of “Virginia Wolfe, Elizabeth Bowen and a dash of Rosamund Lehman.”

The storyteller that emerges is a far greater creation than any mere hack could conceive and in its scope takes on the whole tradition of English writing. I would say that in an age when so many ae eagerly trading credit to simply be heard it takes a master like McEwan to transcend the entire question with a compelling read.

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