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A review by bibliothecarivs
Nothing to Be Frightened of by Julian Barnes
5.0
Where to start about this book of endings?
How about the striking cover of the American hardback edition I read? Other than the text of title and author, it consists solely of a closeup of the sexagenarian Barnes, face half-shadowed, casual but collared blue shirt unbuttoned, hair neatly parted, weak English lips set together (with perchance the slightest hint of a smile?), eyebrows slightly raised creating lines across the forehead, emotive and knowing eyes burning a hole in your soul. Except Mr. Barnes doesn't believe in souls. Or an afterlife. Or a God who watches over all, despite acknowledging missing Him in the opening sentence. Within the covers, this book is a very personal, nuanced and multifarious look at the end of life by an erudite observer who believes the end is literally the end, as do I.
It was this cover that took hold of me when I came across the book in the course of my duties at the library and would not let go. I skimmed the jacket synopsis and felt that here was a book I needed to read, despite being ignorant of Barnes, who, I now know, is a famous British novelist. A wonderful example of the serendipity that can happen in a good public library.
The book's theme of mortality and family in an age of scepticism resonated very deeply with me, as I expected it would. In short vignettes (usually 2-4 pages), Barnes guides us through moments in the lives of himself and others to reveal truths about death and dying. The discussion is always frank and lively, and often funny. One is reminded of the absurd banality of life, and yet also its poignant and memorable moments.
Barnes is as much (or more) of an ardent Francophile as I am an Anglophile. As I read, I waited for his repeated references to nineteenth-century French literary culture to wear on me, but they never did. The parallels and contrasts Barnes draws between his life and fears and those of his apparent idol [a:Jules Renard|224285|Jules Renard|http://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1198588264p2/224285.jpg] were always brilliant, necessary and handled with care.
Finally, what are we to make of the book's title? Nothing to Be Frightened Of? -these pages are full of mortal fear. Fear of death spills out of every memory, every encounter, every recounted story, every page. If you doubt or fear like Barnes and me, you have likely heard a well-meaning attempt at consolation in a phrase like this. If you do not, you might think the title suggests hope, maybe a hopeful resolution to the text and to life. I'm sorry to ruin it for you but the end is THE END, both to text and life, as we will all discover in a relatively short time. Could the title, then, be any more powerfully ironic? Thankfully, in the interim between today and THE END, we have Barnes' beautiful memento mori to precisely express what some of us feel in the deepest places of our hearts and minds.
How about the striking cover of the American hardback edition I read? Other than the text of title and author, it consists solely of a closeup of the sexagenarian Barnes, face half-shadowed, casual but collared blue shirt unbuttoned, hair neatly parted, weak English lips set together (with perchance the slightest hint of a smile?), eyebrows slightly raised creating lines across the forehead, emotive and knowing eyes burning a hole in your soul. Except Mr. Barnes doesn't believe in souls. Or an afterlife. Or a God who watches over all, despite acknowledging missing Him in the opening sentence. Within the covers, this book is a very personal, nuanced and multifarious look at the end of life by an erudite observer who believes the end is literally the end, as do I.
It was this cover that took hold of me when I came across the book in the course of my duties at the library and would not let go. I skimmed the jacket synopsis and felt that here was a book I needed to read, despite being ignorant of Barnes, who, I now know, is a famous British novelist. A wonderful example of the serendipity that can happen in a good public library.
The book's theme of mortality and family in an age of scepticism resonated very deeply with me, as I expected it would. In short vignettes (usually 2-4 pages), Barnes guides us through moments in the lives of himself and others to reveal truths about death and dying. The discussion is always frank and lively, and often funny. One is reminded of the absurd banality of life, and yet also its poignant and memorable moments.
Barnes is as much (or more) of an ardent Francophile as I am an Anglophile. As I read, I waited for his repeated references to nineteenth-century French literary culture to wear on me, but they never did. The parallels and contrasts Barnes draws between his life and fears and those of his apparent idol [a:Jules Renard|224285|Jules Renard|http://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1198588264p2/224285.jpg] were always brilliant, necessary and handled with care.
Finally, what are we to make of the book's title? Nothing to Be Frightened Of? -these pages are full of mortal fear. Fear of death spills out of every memory, every encounter, every recounted story, every page. If you doubt or fear like Barnes and me, you have likely heard a well-meaning attempt at consolation in a phrase like this. If you do not, you might think the title suggests hope, maybe a hopeful resolution to the text and to life. I'm sorry to ruin it for you but the end is THE END, both to text and life, as we will all discover in a relatively short time. Could the title, then, be any more powerfully ironic? Thankfully, in the interim between today and THE END, we have Barnes' beautiful memento mori to precisely express what some of us feel in the deepest places of our hearts and minds.