The Sense of an Ending
Ratings177
Average rating3.9
Just when you thought you were reading the musings of an aged English Walter Mitty, suddenly you are and there is something more! Wow, just wow.
Oh, what a powerful story.
I want to tell you enough about it to encourage you to read it, but not so much that I spoil what happens.
The Sense of an Ending is the story of a man toward the end of his life who tries to come to terms with the actions of his youth.
It's a novella, only about a hundred and fifty pages—a story that you can read in an afternoon. I promise you that I read it in an afternoon, but I was still thinking about it many hours later.
It, coincidentally, was the perfect book to read right after The Death of Ivan Ilych.
Well, this was weird. I'm almost at a loss as to how to rate it. 3.5 stars maybe?
On one hand, it raised a lot of really interesting points about history - not just in the type that we study of the long-ago past, but also in the way our present is becoming history right under our noses. It talks a lot about memories, nostalgia, and the ways the past is connected to the present, and whether we can truly go back and change anything in the past.
And then right at the end, it kinda pulls the rug out from under the reader's feet and leaves you feeling like: What? What did I just read? Where did that come from?
From a sensationalist point of view, it was actually really engaging. I couldn't put it down and finished the latter half of it within a single sitting (it didn't take very long either, since it's such a short book). It definitely also offered a lot of discussion-worthy points so I'm glad I read this along with a few friends so we could really discuss this.
But ultimately, I felt like this book could've done a lot more with the very interesting points it raised, instead of dumping a complete plot twist on the reader right at the end, and without even going into the implications of that plot twist too. It almost felt like the author just... didn't really know how to end it, which is pretty ironic given the title.
There are definitions of History given by several characters in the beginning of the novel. The whole novel is an elaboration of these definitions. Julian Barnes very economically but profoundly reflects on memory, aging and it's effect on our perception of the past.
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Sense of an Ending About?
This is a short novel with a very simple story—well, a pair of them. The temptation at this point is to talk in detail about everything that happens—and I could still do that in fewer paragraphs than some longer novels I’ve written about.
The other option is to be very sketchy about the stories—I think that’s the way to go, it’ll be easier to cover things without tying myself in knots to avoid spoilers and it feels like it’s the spirit of the novel.
We meet Tony Webster and his friends in their teens, a new student comes to their school and they work hard to bring him into their circle of friends, and we stick with them for a few years—largely through the way the group dissolves as they disperse to various universities and make the attempts to stay in touch. Add some girls into the mix and the end is inevitable. Tony has one significant relationship that he spends some time relating with a young woman named Veronica—it’s a bad match from the outset, but both of them try to make it work. They eventually split, he travels America for a bit before coming home and getting a nice, comfortable job; getting married and divorced; and raising a daughter. (the post-America part of his life is covered in one paragraph).
All of this is told through the perspective of Tony as an older man recounting his younger days and comparing what he and his friends experienced to what “kids these days” have. This is really the introduction to the novel, the foundation—and takes roughly sixty pages to cover. He’ll breeze by a lot, and then stop and focus on a conversation or an event. Much like a conversation with my parents and grandparents about their lives (or, increasingly, how I find myself talking to my kids).
The second part builds on that foundation, Tony is now on the other side of marriage, divorce, career, “the fall of Communism, Mrs. Thatcher, 9/11, [and] global warming.” He’s contacted by a lawyer about a small item left to him in a will. Veronica’s mother, of all people, has left something for him. He has to work to find out what it is and then to actually get it from Veronica, who actually possesses the item. This leads to him having to revisit his past, re-examine friendships, their relationship, and how little he understood things then (and now).
So, what did I think about The Sense of an Ending?
While I feel an impulse to do a deep-dive on this book (like the kind of thing I’d do for a 400-level Contemporary Novel class or something, with all the journal articles, books(?), professional reviews, etc.), I’m going to resist that. I’m not even going to go as deep as I typically would because I’m not sure how I’d stop.
Bear with me, this is going somewhere positive. I think.
Tony and his friends initially struck me as the kind of protagonists you’d find in an Updike, Franzen, or Brodesser-Akner* novel, and I had to find solace in the fact that this was going to be shorter than my time with them. Well-written, crisp prose that would likely lead to something thoughtful and insightful—but I’d have to wade through some pretension, a lot of amoral callowness, and more masturbation than I really want (both literal and philosophical).
* I could’ve made the list longer, but I think I made my point. I feel bad about using the last name, but I just saw the trailer for the Hulu series, so she was on my mind—and I thought it would be nice to mention someone who wasn’t a white male author, even if they’re worst offenders.
Here’s where you expect the “But, I came around to…”, right? Well, I don’t really have one. I did grow to have some sympathy and understanding for Tony—even if I did think he’d be better off with a different hobby than obsessively trying to get his hands on the item (and trying to understand Veronica). With one exception, my opinion of everyone else in the novel went down. I probably would’ve liked a lot more time with Tony’s ex, actually. And there are some characters we spend very little time with that I might like to read about. But the named characters that we get to know are really not the kind of characters you want to get to know.
My other quibble with the book is how often Tony’s narration will say something to the effect of: “at least that’s how I remember it now.” The shifting of memory, interpretation, and perspective when it comes to relating events is clearly a theme of the book, but we don’t need to get hit over the head with it like a 2×4 in the hands of a 1980’s professional wrestler.
Once I got to Part Two, I was hooked. I was only mildly curious about the item and Veronica, and (again) thought that Tony’d be better off putting it behind him. But I couldn’t stop reading about his efforts to get to the bottom of it—it wasn’t quite the way you have to stop to look at a fender-bender on the side of the road, but it was close. His reactions, his recalculations, his reinterpretations—and the way he was forced to make them—kept me engaged and thinking. I didn’t care about the destination, I wasn’t thrilled with the journey, but I enjoyed the route and the mode of transport (to stretch the metaphor beyond use).
In a mere 163 pages (and it’s a small book in the other dimensions, as well—it could’ve been a much smaller novel had it been a more standard size), Barnes gives the reader a twisty little story with some solid character development (I refuse to commit to the word “growth” here, but it may be appropriate) and squeezes in some discussion on the nature of, and how we think about: narrative (both personal and fiction), metanarrative, history, relationships, life, death, memory, time (and its passage), aging, and other themes I didn’t pick up on during my first read or forgot to note.
Believe it or not, I do recommend this book. There was a lot I didn’t particularly enjoy (I think I made that clear), but it’s going to stick with me longer than many novels do. I think there’s a better than even chance that were I to write this post in a month that it would end up saying something different. The writing is compelling, there’s a quality to it that is clear from the opening pages, and you can see why it would be in the discussion for some prizes (many of which it apparently won). This is definitely the kind of “literary” reading I want to do—I just wish Barnes had filled it with people I wanted to read about, spend time with, and get to know.
And yes, I said first read, I think I’ll return to this in a couple of years. I’m pretty sure I’ll read more Barnes, too.
I’ve given this three different star ratings since I finished reading it, so I’m going to skip that shortcut and just let that muddle of an evaluation stand.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.
Taylor Swift released a new album last week. I still download all her new stuff, though I'm a bigger fan of the middling albums than I am of her newer albums. Anyway, the first line of her new song Anti Hero is: “I get older but just never wiser.”
That sums up Tony, our narrator. There's no character growth, just increasing unreliability. Veronica doesn't grow either, despite the passing of 40 years. She doesn't behave like a normal human woman would. Like, if you don't want to see this old flame, just delete his emails. Don't sit in silence being weird and inscrutable and then blame him for having no understanding of something that happened 40 years ago. I never got the sense that it was worth my time to care about what happened to any of these characters, and so I didn't.
Also it should not have taken me a whole week to read a novella.
Barnes can write beautifully, so that's why I've rated this as high as I have.
I understand why Veronica had to burn Adrian's diary, what with his affair with her mother.
This is the second Julian Barnes novel I've read (“England, England”), and they're both outstanding. His prose is so good, with great descriptions when needed and leaving us to use our imaginations the rest of the time. It's funny without losing its serious tone. And the characters are all interesting, though they're not always very likable.
It's a story about unreliable memories, self-delusions, and regreat. And it's about growing up and growing old and the toll those things take on us. The unreliable narrator takes his through his spotty memories as he tries to figure out what happened between him, a former lover, and a close friend. Once he pieces it all together, if he ever does, the result is jarring.
I'll definitely try more of Barnes's books.
A beautifully written short novel that examines the unreliability of memory. It is a unique piece of writing because it deftly portrays how a clear memory can become shrouded by imagination. One incident can change someones perspective and narrative.
A beautifully written short novel that examines the unreliability of memory. It is a unique piece of writing because it deftly portrays how a clear memory can become shrouded by imagination. One incident can change someones perspective and narrative.
This book can only be described as a flawed masterpiece - had the novel bothered in fleshing out the characters from the bland caricatures that they were (lucid vs mysterious, ‘clever' vs pragmatic/complacent, and so on), it would have been an amazing read. But it was not, and I can't even blame Barnes for the result - the book is meant to be a short slice-of-life piece, and that's what it remains till the end.
This is a short read, but the ending, while not being a gut punch, was a surprise for sure - of facades and of avoiding responsibilities.
TL;DR - good read for a lazy weekend afternoon, the protagonist is worth empathizing for, and the digressions are not dumped, and feel natural.
Such an interesting read. Not a big book, 150 pages, but it's juicy. Juicy in what it reveals about an ordinary man trying to make sense of his own life and the ending of his friend's life. It won the Man Booker Prize in 2011.
Sooo. As the previous one, a book that had been sitting on my kindle for some time, don't know how it got there, and don't much care. It had its moments, but as a whole, the stars are basically for effort.
The story is about Tony Webster. He reminisces A LOT about his teenage and adult friends, one in particular, Adrian, who started dating his former girlfriend, Veronica, after which he cut all ties with him in a very unpleasant way. Years later, after a friendly divorce, father to an adult himself, and (if I say so myself) living as much a mediocre life as always, he gets a letter that says he got something in a will from Veronica's mom, of all people. It is some money, plus Adrian's diary (he committed suicide some years before), which is now in Veronica's possession.
Bored to tears already? The thing is, the narrative is good enough to keep you going for some time. But the story is barely worth wasting that sort of talent, anyway.
I was unsure as to whether the title was supposed to be ironic, given that one simply runs out of book to read; there is no conclusion, no finish and certainly no send of an ending. That is the one thing that struck me most about the book.
I see and understand the techniques the author is employing and while it seems to appeal to a great many people (this book won awards, after all), it didn't appeal to me. I found it a bit too clumsy and, in honesty, months later I have almost entirely forgotten the plot. That's all I can say with surety: that it was a forgettable book save for it's infuriating lack of a finish.
One does not win the Booker for nothing. Suffers a bit from “story of the artist as a man” syndrome, w/which I, as a mature female reader, have grown oh so very fucking weary–but is so well crafted I won't hold it against the man who wrote it.
This book is a pretty short read, but I think it ended up being the perfect length given the pacing. Barnes does an excellent job of bringing you into the main characters frame of mind so that you begin thinking in the same way he does. The book does a great job of illustrating how we shape our memories and perceptions into our own convenient narratives.
The book is an quick and easy read. It's entertaining and has some depth. But a Mann Booker winner? I'm not sure. It was ok.
Reads a bit like an emo book for the mature crowd. It's a whole story about memories, history, and how it clouds things. Powerful when it reaches it's conclusion, and a satisfying read. Plenty of quotable lines too.
The tyranny of memory and the mysteries of our own past. Julian Barne's The Sense of an Ending is beautifully rendered and carefully laid out. It would have been too easy to falter writing this, the cliche of the old man remembering his youth, old cliques and distant girlfriends from the comfort of his “peaceable” retired life. But as the author notes, “When we are young, we invent different futures for ourselves; when we are old, we invent different pasts for others.” It's easy to delude ourselves, write our own histories and see ourselves in a flattering light.
Julian Barnes' latest, The Sense of an Ending, is a quiet novella of intrigue. It is captivating for its equal share of simplicity and suspense. Its tension is built on a subtle feeling that something is not right. From early pages it is clear that Barnes' narrator is unreliable and that his perspective of events may be ajar. Barnes frequently delves into philosophy and psychology without losing track of the story. The language is sparse; the author does nothing in excess.
The unrest builds throughout the work until the last few pages. Unfortunately what has been created in the reader's mind is likely a better conclusion than Barnes' own, and this is the novella's greatest problem. It's a disappointing final few pages, but everything that lead up to those made the journey well worth it.
I haven't read any Barnes since I was blown away by A History of the World in 10.5 Chapters, so maybe this isn't as good as his others, but I was blown away by it.