The Sense of an Ending (2011)

An interesting read, yet somehow it left me feeling unfulfilled. Much ado about an unreliable narrator and his attempt to deconstruct, reconstruct and construct again his past. Through it all, it shows the importance of vulnerability in relationships. ( )

Short but lovely. I really like Julian Barnes, and this little book didn't let me down.
One of the things I liked is that you really go along with the main character. You follow his 'discoveries' throughout the novel and find yourself drawing the same conclusions, and then having to adjust those conclusions as the character finds out he's wrong.
It gave me a feeling of being close to the character, of really being there with him.
Well-written, an interesting twist at the end and a story that draws you in effortlessly. Just a good, solid piece of work from a great author. ( )

Tinha grandes expectativas para um livro que comprei apenas pela capa e pelo título.
Talvez o ter sido vencedor do Man Booker Prize em 2011 fosse a razão pela qual eu me tinha convencido que um livro pequeno mas deslumbrante me aguardava.
Pequeno sim mas longe de deslumbrante. O fim dá sentido às reacções de outras personagens e aos acontecimentos mas, a revelação fica tão aquém do surpreendente que pergunto-me o porquê de ter sido o vencedor de um prémio tão prestigiado.
Fez-me reflectir sobre o quanto desejamos que os outros nos compreendam sem grandes explicações. ( )

I picked this book up tonight because it was one of the thinner books on my bookshelf. I wanted a quick read and not to get mired down or involved in something I could not finish, with big doings tomorrow. It was indeed a short book, but, man, Julian Barnes packs a huge punch in a small package.

How accurately do we recall the things that happen to us in life? As time goes on, do we rewrite or recast events so that they are more palatable? How much responsibility do we have in regard to the actions of others, in choices that they clearly make themselves but in which we have had an influence that even we, ourselves, are oblivious to?

Echoes of other great novels presented themselves at times. Atonement, A Separate Peace, and Remains of the Day, all came and went through my mind while I was reading. However, Barnes’ story is uniquely his own and his voice is clearly his own as well.

History isn’t the lies of the victors, as I once glibly assured Old Joe Hunt; I know that now. It’s more the memories of the survivors, most of whom are neither victorious nor defeated.

The problem with memories is that they are not always accurate or complete. They morph over time, and we are all guilty of retaining those that show us in a good light and discarding those that damage us to ourselves or in the eyes of others.

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.

Perhaps. I dare say that if you live long enough, you will find there are things in life that have broken you, things you are not proud of, things that you would like to erase or change, and people to whom you owe debts that you never recognized and that you cannot ever pay. If you compare that to the exuberance, hopes and arrogance of your youth, it might well seem that “life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Barnes won the Man Booker prize for The Sense of an Ending, and I could easily see why. I love a novel that tells me something about what it is to be human and reminds me that, in so many ways, we are all as alike as we are different.
( )

Obviously beautifully written--as is everything Barnes turns out. An elegiac reflection on time and life and getting older. And this very slim book (less than 150 pages) could be a master class in telling a long story in a few words. The problem is that I don't think Barnes has anything enormously insightful to say here--certainly not much he hasn't said in previous books. It's worth reading, but it's not among Barnes's best. ( )