Rounded off by a decent twist at the end this is a brilliant read. Welcome back. A Man Booker winner, Barnes has wowed his readers with The Sense of an Ending, a book that ties up loose ends of an contemplative, older man's life, and, quite possibly, the ends of my reading year as well. Verified Purchase. I was pulled intThis book got under my skin. I loved this book and am loving the answers posted by readers here. To say that I liked what I read would be an understatement. It is still snowing and the twists and turns of The Sense of an Ending whirl around. Recently I read In the Noise of Time by Julian Barnes.

Or rather, my memory now of my reading then of what was happening at the time.” This is by Julian Barnes so we know it will focus on memory and its tricks. He has been shortlisted three times for the Man Booker Prize--- Flaubert's Parrot (1984), England, England (1998), and Arthur & George (2005), and won the prize for The Sense of an Ending (2011). OK, there was one good quote: “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 is an exploration of memory, exquisitely written as the thoughts of an old man, looking back on his life - good enough to merit 5*, despite the somewhat contrived ending (ironic, given the title).This is an exploration of memory, exquisitely written as the thoughts of an old man, looking back on his life - good enough to merit 5*, despite the somewhat contrived ending (ironic, given the title).Such was the big fat craptastic big-reveal groanworthy lurid pulpy Victorian melodramatic you-got-to-be-kidding ending-with-no-sense that the two stars this novel was hanging on to by its fingernails up to page 130 slipped out of its grasp and it ended up with the ignominious one star, but since that puts it in the same company as many much-loved novels it may well be worn as a Badge Of Honour – I envisage one of those peelable stickers on all future editions Such was the big fat craptastic big-reveal groanworthy lurid pulpy Victorian melodramatic you-got-to-be-kidding ending-with-no-sense that the two stars this novel was hanging on to by its fingernails up to page 130 slipped out of its grasp and it ended up with the ignominious one star, but since that puts it in the same company as many much-loved novels it may well be worn as a Badge Of Honour – I envisage one of those peelable stickers on all future editions Some of my closest GR friends may have noticed that I’ve been less active around here lately.
I recommend this book to anyone who wants to examine life through Julian Barnes' lens. I tend to think so, at the very end, but I think it's clear that, at the least, he's still oblivious about some things, like how Veronica felt about him when they were dating. Start by marking “The Sense of an Ending” as Want to Read: Upon returning it to the library, two of my branch librarians asked me if I had ever read any of Barnes other works, and I answered, unfortunately, no. I mean how could he have forgotten? August 4th 2011 It is blessed with an aura of flawless, impeccable English perfection; the prose is exquisitely clean & concise, GODLY by most-- especially my own-- standards. Book Review: The Sense of an Ending. The narrative is so revealing of the confusing sentiments and behaviors concerning[ Unfortunately, there’s a reason for that. He has been shortlisted three times for the Man Booker Prize--- Flaubert's Parrot (1984), England, England (1998), and Arthur & George (2005), and won the prize for The Sense of an Ending (2011).

That letter turns up 40 years later in a package from a lawyer and he is shocked to see it. It's a short book (one of the reasons I bought it) and it quickly confirmed itself to me as a wise purchase; I was laughing out loud after a few pages, totally hooked.
“...what you end up remembering isn't always the same as what you have witnessed.” Or this “ I need to return briefly to a few incidents that have grown into anecdotes.” It seems inevitable that virtually every writer will at some point write a meditation on ageing and the role of engineered memory in defining identity. As it turns out, I’m going to have to hang up my spurs, albeit for reasons that have nothing to do with my friends here, and not even much to do with me. I had never really intended to read this book, and I certainly had no intention of owning it. And if what I think happened happened, WTF would Veronique still be talking to him? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts?


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