Type of bind: Hardcover
EAN num: 9780307356987
ISBN number: 0307356981
Label: Random House Canada
Manufacturer: Random House Canada
Quantity: 1
Page Count: 256
Printing Date: April 15, 2008
Publishing house: Random House Canada
Release Date: April 15, 2008
Sale Popularity Level: 481708
Studio: Random House Canada
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'I don’t believe in God, but I miss him.' So begins Julian Barnes’s brilliant new book that is, among many things, a family memoir, an exchange with his brother (a philosopher), a meditation on mortality and the fear of death, a celebration of art, an argument with and about God, and a homage to the writer Jules Renard. Barnes also draws poignant portraits of the last days of his parents, recalled with great detail, affection and exasperation. Other examples he takes up include writers, 'most of them dead and quite a few of them French,' as well as some composers, for good measure.
The grace with which Barnes weaves together all of these threads makes the experience of reading the book nothing less than exhilarating. Although he cautions us that 'this is not my autobiography,' the book nonetheless reveals much about Barnes the man and the novelist: how he thinks and how he writes and how he lives. At once deadly serious and dazzlingly playful, Nothing to Be Frightened Of is a wise, funny and constantly surprising tour of the human condition.
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Rated by buyers -
Julian Barnes has long been a novelist preoccupied with death. Every one of his previous books has, I think, contained at least one section featuring ruminations on the inevitable dénouement to life, but never before has he devoted a whole book to the subject.
Nothing to be Frightened of is a book that will appeal mainly to long term Barnes fans. It is a return to the smorgasbord style - part essay, part epistolary debate, part philosophical disquisition, part literary homage that hallmarked his great 1984 novel Flaubert's Parrot, and was reprised in his 1989 meditation on history, A History of the World in 10 ½ Chapters. This book is hard to summarize, but the blurb writer has an impressive stab in one sentence: `among many things, a family memoir, an exchange with his brother (a philosopher), a meditation on mortality and the fear of death, a celebration of art, an argument with and about God, and a homage to the French writer Jules Renard.' That just about does it. It is something of a departure from Barnes's previous novels and essays, a comedown from the lofty heights of intellectual detachment, as he gives the reader an insight into episodes from his own life, particularly his relations with his family, people he has written of very little in the past.
Not that we should read this as his autobiography mind. A scrupulous guarder of his privacy, Barnes is unlikely to rip the lid off and spill everything in a messy reveal all in one go. Rather, he reaches into the pot to reach out carefully chosen morsels, starting with an account of his maternal grandparents who were an arch conservative and communist respectively. He recalls how his grandfather used to let the young Julian and his brother watch while he wrang chicken's necks in the garage. Here, the Barnes brothers' memories diverge over the exact nature of the execution (was there a guillotine mechanism? Was there a bucket to catch the heads?), and a tense dualism between them is set for much of the book.
Barnes, the younger of the brothers, gives us the impression that he is an intuitive, novelist thinker who is interested in things such as whether human life has a narrative, what happens after our death (he contemplates a huge array of options), how to get value out of a life in an age where Darwin and Dawkins have pretty much done for the idea of God - his chosen path, is a devout appreciation, the religion of art as Flaubert called it, even to the extent where he downplays his blood relations and instead considers his genetic lineage as a line of great artists including Renard (a death haunted artist who features prominently in the book), Flaubert, and Stravinsky.
Perhaps this worship of art is a result of his tricky family relations. His older brother, Jonathan, is a remote, fiercely rational Aristotelian philosopher. He features at points throughout the book, hoisted in at carefully chosen moments to illustrate a cold, philosophical angle on life. In an early exchange Barnes recounts a discusion in the car on the way home from their mother's funeral that turned into a stern grammatical debate on the music that should have been played at the service, and whether this construed an inadmissible `hypothetical want of the dead'. Some readers may find this medical gloved dissection of the event appealing in its precision, many more may find the reaction of the Barnes brothers, with their mother's corpse not yet cold, rather sub zero on the emotional scale.
Barnes's pere and mere were a difficult couple too. His father was a quiet, reserved French teacher, frequently overruled by his domineering wife who was frequently damning of her sons' literary talents `one son writes books I can read but can't understand, the other writes books I can understand but can't read'. Parts of the book focus on their respective declines and deaths, Barnes painfully watching as his father suffers a series of strokes, his mother reacting with stern admonishing towards his aphasia.
The deaths of his parents are the way into this book, the gate at the entrance, but most of the short sections feature great artists and their reactions to the inevitable. Philip Larkin, author of the great death angst poem Aubade, we learn would have died gibbering with fear in a Hull hospital were he not heavily sedated. Flaubert maintained stoical impassivity in the face of the void. Renard himself aimed to die a stylish, French death and eventually succumbed to standard emphysema. Barnes himself fears death constantly, waking up in the night pounding his pillow screaming NO, NO, NO at the injustice of it all. He says he expects his departure to be preceded by extreme pain, coupled with extreme frustration at the euphemistic, imprecise language used by those about him. A grammarian to the end.
Coupled with fear of death is fear of God, or rather, wistful unhappiness at the absence of God. `I don't believe ... Read More
Rated by buyers -
In NOTHING TO BE FRIGHTENED OF, Julian Barnes uses the history of his immediate family and the comments of many writers--who he considers his "true bloodline"--to examine death, as well as its connection to God. Rest assured that this book, like A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters, is a primarily an essayist's intellectual journey. The book is never morbid or creepy.
For me, NtbFo was best when Barnes was writing about his biological family. When writing about the death of his parents, for example, he conveyed the weakness and humiliation and rage of the dying, as well as the complex feelings of anger, pity, and responsibility in survivors. Likewise, the book was strong when Barnes wrote about his grandfather. Then, he pondered how little a person leaves after death, with mystery and a few random artifacts all that's left after, say, 50 years pass. These family-based musings are thoughtful and tender. And Barnes's brother, a philosopher who does not allow slack thinking, adds rigour to Julian's thoughts.
On the other hand, the results are mixed when Barnes uses the comments of numerous writers to explore his subjects. Here, the ideas and anecdotes he presents are always interesting, ranging from consoling to depressed, from accepting death to dread. And, his work with this material is a pleasure to read when an essay--few are longer than five pages--starts with the adroit presentation of a concept, moves to a supporting or contrasting idea, and then finishes with revelation or connection.
But occasionally, his short essays develop in an inscrutable and arbitrary fashion, with this reviewer finishing an essay in confusion, not insight. (How the heck did I get here?, was my not infrequent reaction.) Even after rereading, these particular essays struck me as brilliant babbling, not the achievement of sparkling or new connections. This has unfortunate consequences for NtbFo, since Barnes frequently circles back to ideas he has already explored, returning to them to layer or enrich meaning. But, this strategy doesn't work when an idea's original presentation, or new context, lacks clarity.
Nonetheless, Barnes has a very interesting mind. He writes fine prose and this book renewed my interest in his work. Next: Arthur and George.
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