Nothing to Be Frightened Of by Julian Barnes
|
List Price: Our Price: $5.99 You Save: $18.96 (76%) Availability: Usually ships in 1-2 business days Buy Used: from $1.48 (click here) Category: Book See more book details and other editions |
|---|
Book Reviews of Nothing to Be Frightened Of
Book Review: Thought provoking look at what death really entails
Summary: 4 Stars
Given that I regularly ponder death myself, I picked up this book. It's both insightful and humorous at times. I will admit I had some difficulty getting through, however. Most points of reference were to historical European figures, something I'm just not knowledgeable enough about. The language was also difficult to sift through at times, as the British vernacular differs quite significantly in some areas from standard American stuff that I'm used to. This is no knock on the author, I'm just not schooled enough in European matters to grab everything I should have from this book. All in all, however, I truly enjoyed the read. I would recommend it to anyone else who, at least sometimes, ponders their own death and what that really entails. Do not fret, you are not the first or last person to be puzzled/confused/happy/sad about it.Book Review: Hello Mr. Death, how are you?
Summary: 4 Stars
More and more we're getting books about aging and death as writers age and deal finally with "the one story that will prove worth your telling" (Conrad Aiken). Julian Barnes checks in with a beautifully written book that intereweaves his personal experiences with the deaths of those close to him with literary reminiscences about death and dying, and his thoughts about his own impending death. I say "impending" not because Barnes is terminally ill, but because all our our deaths are "impending" in one way or another. As Barnes insists, it's just a matter of time. This is a highly realistic account of what it feels like to come to terms with the most difficult subject, our own non-existence.Book Review: Julian Barnes on death
Summary: 4 Stars
Nothing to Be Frightened Of A candid, amusing, learned discourse on our common end.Book Review: Be frightened. Be very frightened.
Summary: 3 Stars
I hope that no kindhearted person mistakenly picks up Julian Barnes's book of musings on death and gives it to someone either recently bereaved or coping with a fatal illness. There is no human comfort to be had in this book, which weaves anecdotes about the declining years and death of Barnes's family members (the best parts of the memoir) with philosophical musings and a strong dose of Dawkins. "Nothing To Be Frightened Of" is well written, but the effect of reading it is rather like being in a labyrinth; after ten pages of Barnes's steely agnosticism, one wishes the exit would reveal itself. Even Dante's "Inferno" has a way out. But no, this account of the pain of thinking about one's own demise gazes into the pit by circling round it, glancing into it at every possible angle, and ending up pretty much where it begins.
At some point in the reading, there is nothing for it but to put the book down for a while. I did finish, although I can't recall a book in which I've taken so little pleasure. The copywriter who penned the publisher's promise of "hilarious" bits (see the jacket cover) must have written the copy after one too many in the bar. Finally, I asked myself this question: why did I find reading this book such an umpleasant experience when I'll happily read and reread a poem on the same subject, like Keats's sonnet "When I Have Fears That I May Cease to Be" or Dickinson's "Because I Could Not Stop For Death"? Perhaps it's because lyric poetry--a much shorter form-- is more aesthetically pleasing when one must contemplate the topic of one's inevitable nothingness. One can glance into the pit for a moment and then look away.
Book Review: Amateur, do-it-yourself stuff
Summary: 2 Stars
On page 39 Barnes writes, "Perhaps I should warn you (especially if you are philosopher, theologian, or biologist) that some of this book my strike you as amateur, do-it-yourself stuff," and on page 165 he warns that his mind "lollops from anecdote to anecdote." No kidding, Joolz. On the backcover Kate Summerscale claims this book is a "disquisition" on death. Uh, not quite. This book is an assortment anecdotes and quotes from a gang of Frenchmen that Barnes was unable to pull together into a coherent whole---and his "lolloping", coincidental expository style is rather maddening (just try to follow the "argument" on pages 144-149).
A strange book. He is an unbeliever that cant stop talking about the Big G. I should have thought after reflecting on the ideas of Newton, Darwin and Freud Barnes would have, like other intellectuals, adopted some mechanistic view of the universe and the self. None apparent here.
Of course neither Barnes nor the parade of Frenchmen have an answer about death or God. How could they?
Since there is nothing conclusive to say about death other than it concludes life as we know it, Barnes brings in other subjects to discuss: his family, memory (curiously he makes no mention of Proust) and some observations on writing that I will delve into a little further. "Fiction...balances precise observation with the free play of imagination." Nice. "Literature can tell us best what the world consists of. It can also tell us how to live in that world, though it does it most effectively when appearing not to do so." Interesting, although it would be better to say that some literature makes suggestions of how one might live in the world; but keep going, tell me how. (I end disappointed). "...[the novelist] wants to tell the one true story." Losing interest, there isnt one true story. "....novelists conspire to present human life as a story progressing toward a meaningful conclusion" Okay, I'm done. I would argue Chekhov and Joyce, for instance, are counterexamples to that statement. In any event, it is pretty silly to try to say what "the novelist" is attempting to present, it would seem to be as varied as there are authors.
Oh! He did write a very funny bit about his last reader. I should like to extend my arms across the years and embrace that man as my brother.