In
some ways The Sense Of An Ending by Julian Barnes is far too short. Tony Webster,
the novel’s central character and first person narrator, lives most of his
adult life in relative anonymity. He marries, works to earn his living, raises
a daughter and perhaps blends into the suburban landscape of outer London’s
long terraces with their fair-weather-only gardens. During these intervening
years, how often did Veronica cross his mind? And when she did, just how much
of their courting did he recall, and how much did he have to re-invent?
Compared to the vivid recollections of school and university years, Anthony’s
take on his intervening adulthood seems scant in the extreme, dismissive even.
We
would like to know more about Anthony, because Julian Barnes’s novel is pure,
unadulterated joy to read. This character is so rounded and three dimensional
that often it feels like he is in the room, telling his story. His manner would
be quite assertive, but also self-deprecating, without that force of delivery
that would suggest confidence. Surely he is a reflective type, but like most of
us he is not good at reading others’ motives, especially when these do not
coincide with his own. This inability will have significant bearing on this
novel’s own sense of an ending.
Now
in his sixties and divorced, Anthony recalls the arrival of a new classmate at
school, a lad who becomes a friend, adopted into a clique. Adrian, however, is
different from the others. He seems more intense, certainly more analytical,
both intellectually and personally. He is one to examine the detail of
justification in almost every aspect of human activity, most of all his own.
But for all his attention to apparent detail, is he any better at knowing
himself and his own motives than anyone else? The question will remain open.
Anthony,
on the other hand, seems to get on with things as they present themselves and
reflect later. He is not prone to analysis. He does find a girlfriend, Veronica,
whom he seems to worship, both mentally and physically. It is the
nineteen-sixties, the time of sexual liberation and free love. But not for
those who lived through the era, Tony reminds us. What became iconic for a
decade was at the time probably only an aspiration for an elite. For Anthony it
remained a time when he could only dream of the pleasures that might await. His
relationship with Veronica, however, did become reasonably intense, even if it
did remain pre-marital by not usually going all the way. On a weekend visit to
her parents’ home in Kent, her father seemed superciliously jocular and yet
evasive, while her mother seemed strangely free and close. She even confided in
him, warning him about her daughter. Tony found motive hard to ascribe.
Adrian
went to Cambridge, of course, as did Veronica’s brother. Tony didn’t. You might
guess that there is going to be a transfer of allegiances, a falling out, a
separation and a redrawing of relationships. The Sense Of An Ending is the kind
of novel where the twists and turns of people’s lives provide the plot. There
is no linear invention that progresses from one false cliff-hanger to another
and on to the next, so a review of the book should reveal no more than the
above about its principal characters.
Overall,
the book is a complete joy. It is not long enough and it is hard not to finish
it in one sitting. Eventually Tony has to accept that words thrown away almost
without thought or reflection have caused events to twist out consequences that
have entwined the people concerned for the rest of their lives. Forty years on,
Tony, never good at identifying motive, must wrest out of memory an analysis of
his own intentions in the light of consequences of which he remained unaware.
Every
minute of every day we communicate, sometimes in anger, and remain unaware that
anything we say might have long-term consequences that we could never have
imagined. Of course if we do try to consider the significance of everything we
say or do, we cease to communicate and have no interaction at all. Thus we remain
human, actively involved in lives whose progress and development we cannot
predict. Ignorance is inevitable, but it is not blissful. Julian Barnes’s The
Sense Of An Ending is not the kind of book that will enlighten or alleviate our
collective state of ignorance, but it is pure bliss.
