The Sense of an Ending
This title is winner of the Man Booker Prize for Fiction in 2011. Tony Webster and his clique first met Adrian Finn at school. Sex-hungry and book-hungry, they would navigate the girl-less sixth form together, trading in affectations, in-jokes, rumour and wit. May be Adrian was a little more... show more
This title is winner of the Man Booker Prize for Fiction in 2011. Tony Webster and his clique first met Adrian Finn at school. Sex-hungry and book-hungry, they would navigate the girl-less sixth form together, trading in affectations, in-jokes, rumour and wit. May be Adrian was a little more serious than the others, certainly more intelligent, but they all swore to stay friends for life. Now Tony is retired. He's had a career and a single marriage, a calm divorce. He's certainly never tried to hurt anybody. Memory, though, is imperfect. It can always throw up surprises, as a lawyer's letter is about to prove.
Publish date: March 1st 2012
Pages no: 150
Edition language: English
This is a meditation on how the "truth" of the events of personal history are distorted by time and the mindset of the observer. We asign reasons and motives that come from our own way of looking at people and our assessment of them. This is a clouded and even distorting lens that may lead us to bel...
Something is lacking. The prose is technically pristine, but bloodless. I have no strong emotions towards the characters and their conditions. There is no feeling or mood that lingers in me after I close the book. I can find things to admire, but not many to like, even though I did want to like it.
I've owned this book almost a year in October. It is a short book and I have no idea why I hadn't picked it up earlier. However, yesterday I was looking through my Audible library to find a short listen, under 6 hours, and noticed The Sense of an Ending and decided to give it a go. I'm happy I did. ...
How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life. Told to others, but—mainly—to ourselv...
‘History is the lies of the victors,’ I replied, a little too quickly.‘Yes, I was rather afraid you’d say that. Well, as long as you remember that it is also the self-delusions of the defeated.’This is the story of Tony Webster, narrating the memories of his youth from the twilight of his life. I pa...