(First published by Johnathan Cape, Random
House in 2011)
“How
often do we tell our own life story?”
As winner of the Man Booker Prize
in 2011, Julian Barnes’ The Sense of an
Ending is a short novel worthy of its critical acclaim and general
praise. Barnes is a writer who
continually enforces the idea of the ‘Human Flaw’ wherein our memories are
unreliable and our pasts, ‘mutable’. It
leads to not only likeable characters but characters that feel almost brutally honest
and Tony Webster is no exception. A
witty, fairly cynical and overall attractive character, we as the reader are
drawn to him instantly. As a man of no importance, Webster’s is a first person
narrative with no airs or graces. A brilliantly well-rounded and believable
character , we are able to trust what he tells us even when he does not trust
himself.
“I remember a period in late adolescence when
my mind would make itself drunk with images of adventurousness. This is how it
will be when I grow up. I shall go there, do this, discover that, love her, and
then her and her and her. I shall live as people in novels live and have lived.
Which ones I was not sure, only that passion and danger, ecstasy and despair
(but then more ecstasy) would be in attendance. However...who said that thing
about "the littleness of life that art exaggerates"? There was a
moment in my late twenties when I admitted that my adventurousness had long
since petered out. I would never do those things adolescence had dreamt about.
Instead, I mowed my lawn, I took holidays, I had my life.”
The way in which Barnes sets up
this ultimately unreliable narrative is fascinating and makes for an engaging
read. The idea that ‘what you remember
is not necessarily what you witnessed’ is addressed on the very first page and
immediately throws in to question our own memories and how much we can even
trust ourselves. This allows each turn of the page to be a reflection on our own
school days or first sexual experience and is a strange but illuminating
process.
“Later on in life, you expect a bit of rest,
don't you? You think you deserve it. I did, anyway. But then you begin to
understand that the reward of merit is not life's business.”
As we follow the memories of this
man in his late sixties, we are taken back to his years at an all male sixth
form and his first meeting of Adrian Finn, a boy with intelligence beyond his
years who provides the stimulation for Tony’s life from then on. His feelings
of inferiority and Adrian’s subsequent suicide throw into question whether or
not Tony can in fact trust his recollections of his feelings at that time. At
one point, Adrian states “History is that certainty produced at the point where
the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation.” (quoting
Patrick Lagrange). His complicated feelings for Adrian combined with his need
for clarity within life resulted in constant insecurities throughout his
adolescent and adult life which now lead him to believe that the way he felt at
the time may not have been justified. This is something that reveals itself
slowly and is the driving force behind the events of his life that unfold in
the second half (and present tense portion) of the story.
The title of the book is also
something that unfolds itself slowly. The
original quote comes from a literary criticism book of the same name by Frank
Kermode first published in 1966 , which analyses great works through the
concept of apocalyptic thought. The idea that every writer writes because of an
inherent need to leave ones ‘mark’ before they die. Therefore the idea of the ‘sense’ of an ending is intriguing as it raises questions about the art form of
writing in its entirety. Where do our stories end? Is it past a certain age and
if so when is that age determined? These are both highlighted and examined
throughout the book although never really given an absolute answer.
The fact that Tony is revealing his
past from the few point of a sixty-year-old man provides a further dimension of
whether or not his mind is actually beginning to fail him anyway. His age also
provides the idea that sixty is when one essentially stops living an exciting
life but continues to live, therefore creating a ‘sense of death’. This is
again highlighted by the idea that Adrian found ‘clarity’ in his early death,
perhaps because he never grew old enough to have the same self-reflection. Barnes
affirms this perspective by occasionally dropping what I would call ‘ life
lessons’ throughout the novel. By this I
mean phrases and sayings that we would usually attribute to someone who is old
enough to have become thoroughly disillusioned with life. This is perhaps to
the detriment of the novel as it occasionally feels like a platform for some of
Barnes’ own ideals over those of Tony but highly interesting none the less. For
example,
“Sometimes
I think the purpose of life is to reconcile us to its eventual loss by wearing
us down, by proving, however long it takes, that life isn't all it's cracked up
to be.”
This, to a certain extent,
absolutely compliments the themes of the novel beautifully and allows you to
understand the reasons behind this man’s re-examining of his life and
subsequent mistakes. However, it is easy to become rather bogged down in the mournful
descent in to reliving a life misspent. The underlying idea behind this novel is that
remembering is not the opposite of forgetting, but rather that the two
intertwine to create the human idea of memory and at times this idea feels
slightly drilled in to our heads. Having said that, Barnes’ humour is one that
transcends the rather depressing idea that all life is essentially
disappointing. He highlights certain elements of human behaviour, which will
have even the most critical reader laughing. This is no clearer than in the
passages concerning his sexual awakening with Veronica, his first real
relationship and surprisingly the most influential character within the novel. As
he reveals his constant struggles to sleep with her, we feel his growing
frustration with the ‘free love’ movement of the sixties versus the failed
attempts at sexual acts throughout his university years.
“
I expect such recreational behaviour will strike later generations as quite
unremarkable, both for nowadays and for back then: after all wasn’t ‘back then’ the Sixties? Yes
it was. But as I said, it depended on where – and who – you were. If you’ll
excuse the brief history lesson, most people didn’t experience ‘The Sixties’
until the Seventies.”
Another undeniable factor of this
novel is the purely poetic way in which Barnes forms his narratives. Having
also read ‘Metroland’ (1980) and ‘The Lemon Table’ (2004) , also by Barnes, I
have found his themes to be repetitive but never tired. He writes with such
passionate understanding for his characters that it truly allows a reader to become
invested in the story and become totally lost in the time and place in which
the novels are set. It may be obvious to
some, but something that really struck me whilst reading this novel was Barnes’
intelligence. Literary, of course, but also his unique way of presenting a
protagonist as an upper-middle-class man, well read at Bristol University,
without ever appearing patronising or arrogant, is impeccable. This brings me
back to my original statement concerning Barnes and the ‘Human Flaw’. A factor I
have always enjoyed about his writing is that fact that no matter who his
characters are, they inevitably make mistakes. Granted, some are bigger than
others but he never forgets that he is writing about people, not fantastical
ideas of people. This is what allows his novels and novellas to be so
universally popular. It would be easy for a man of such intelligence to
alienate certain readers but he strives to make his works accessible, a trait
greatly admired within modern writers.
Overall, I found this novel to be a
stimulating read. It is not exciting plot twists that will have you turning the
pages but a genuine interest in such a simple life, so wonderfully
explained. The effortlessness of the
story shines through and the effect is enchanting as it begs its reader to
question their own lives thus far and thrusts before them the question of ‘ Can
you really trust your own mind?’ but , more importantly, if it matters anyway.
If our minds our saving us the pain of reality, do we want the absolute truth?
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