Last Post by Robert Barnard

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


"She picked up an envelope [...] When she read the inscription she realized with a shock that the writer was not one of those who wanted to pay tribute to a dead woman."

Last Post (2004) is the seventeenth Robert Barnard's novel that I am reviewing here. I am not exactly sure what draws me to this author. True, I have rated two of his novels with four stars yet most others are in the two-to-three star territory. I think it might be the simplicity of the plot, the good-natured Britishness of the prose, and - perhaps most of all - the author's tendency to offer somewhat perverse endings (as in 'strange' rather than 'surprising').

The story begins in a funeral house where Eve McNabb looks at her mother's face for the last time. At home she begins reading condolence letters; among them she finds a letter from a woman who appears to have been her mother's former lover. Gasp! From now on the "L-word" casts its shadow over the plot. Eve never had any inklings as to her mother preferences and - being a modern woman employed in PR - she does not care one way or the other but the letter gets her thinking about potential reasons of her father's early disappearance from her life. She was told that he had died but maybe he was driven away by his wife's non-traditional affair? Maybe he is still alive?

Eve begins a private investigation into her mother's past. Since she was a dedicated and successful teacher, and served as the head of a primary school, the connections in the school community seem important for understanding her past. Connections to an amateur theatre group also emerge. Everybody Eve talks to seems to lie, pretend, and hide some if not all facts. She enlists help of a Hindu policeman, who - having marital troubles due to an arranged, loveless marriage - reciprocates Eve's interest in him. Alas, the romantic thread is particularly weak and implausible, and reeks of TV soaps.

One of the characters central to the plot is murdered and Eve, conveniently on a different continent during the murder, is allowed to help the investigation. The guilty party is found, everything seems to be ending well with the characters bound to live happily ever after, but then the author drops a nasty twist at the end. That ugly twist is the only thing that I really like about the novel. Otherwise - even though the novel is moderately interesting and readable - it is quite clearly a below-the-average effort from Mr. Barnard.

Two stars.




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England, England by Julian Barnes

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


"[...] there is, I always feel, a fundamental simplicity within me, because I'm a genius."

Imagine this: in a book published exactly 20 years ago we read about a billionaire in a position of great power, a huge-scale con man, a "corporate buccaneer" who "earned" his billions by methods of "theft, conquest, and pillage" ruining other companies, and who is mainly known for his delight in firing people left and right. Doesn't this egomaniacal con man sound familiar? Also imagine this: in a book published in 1998 we read about England leaving the European Union. Doesn't that sound familiar?

Julian Barnes' England, England (1998) has one of the most ingenious setups I have ever encountered in serious literature. Alas, the wonderful setup eventually dissolves into an aimless mess. How exasperating this novel is! What a waste of a tremendous idea!

Sir Jack Pitman is the egomaniacal billionaire con man:

"Sir Jacks's ego required so much oxygen that it seemed logical and just to him that it should be extracted from the lungs of those nearby."

His favorite phrases are

"Consider yourself fired [...] You are fucking fired [...]"

He considers himself a modern Beethoven and is working on a project that will be his Ninth Symphony. He is a self-proclaimed genius (although the reader will not know whether he is a "stable genius"); for instance, he employs an Ideas Catcher whose task it is to record for posterity any "nickel-plated banality" uttered by the Great Man (as Twitter did not exist in 1998.) He also indulges in some extracurricular activities with women: I am not courageous enough to describe the activities: please read the book. Let me just disclose that he is not interested as something as conventional as "grabbing by the pussy." His tastes are more refined.

Sir Jack is working on a monumental project: building a theme park that is a miniature of England. Naturally, the theme park, aimed at American and Japanese tourists with plenty of moolah (this was written before the golden age of China began), will be located in England, specifically on the Isle of Wight, so that its address is "England, England." Sir Jack's team of researchers has discovered that contemporary tourists prefer replicas over the real thing: like we Americans have Venice and Paris in Las Vegas, Sir Jack will have a miniature replica of England in England. This is a phenomenally catchy idea for contemporary tourists because the replica will contain only the important aspects of England, none of the incidental ones. Exactly like people nowadays like to listen only to "cool bits" of classical music, just the melodious parts, the hummable themes - listening to the entire composition would be a waste of time. The experts are brought to construct a list of "Fifty Quintessences of Englishness," such as the royal family, Robin Hood and his Merrie Men, Union Jack, Shakespeare, Stonehenge, etc. And indeed, when England, England begins its operation, its business thrives!

The tale of England, England is intertwined with the life story of one Martha Cochrane. Abandoned early in childhood by her father she grows up to become a fiercely independent and successful businesswoman. In a memorable scene Sir Jack interviews Martha for one of the top managerial positions in the theme park enterprise. Being a genius unparalleled in the history of mankind, instead of hiring only "yes-men", he hires Martha as a "no-woman."

The novel is a powerful, bitter and biting satire on Disneylandization of our life: the cult of cliché, ersatz, cheapness, glitter, fakeness, and replicas. It ridicules the "culture" based on selling prefabricated emotions to people and history understood as a set of clichés. Those aspects of the novel are convincing. To me, though, the Martha Cochrane's thread does not mesh well with the satire. Also, I actively dislike the dystopian ending, a post-England, England part of Martha's story: it reads awkward and seems artificially attached to the earlier parts of the novel.

Three stars.



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Dying Flames by Robert Barnard

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


"Beside this grave, in the gathering twilight, they had made love."

Dying Flames (2005) is my sixteenth book by Robert Barnard whose mystery novels I have rated with a wide range of rankings, from nearly outstanding as A Scandal in Belgravia to failures like The Killings on Jubilee Terrace. This novel places somewhere in between, perhaps a bit closer to the lower mark. It has a very rare distinction, though: it gets better and better as we progress towards the end, which is the exact opposite of the absolute majority of mystery genre bestsellers.

Graham Broadbent, in his mid-forties, a quite popular writer of fiction, visits Colchester for the high-school reunion. Christa, a young woman, still a teenager in fact, comes to see Graham and announces that she is his daughter, which she had learned from her mother, Peggy. While Graham denies paternity he indeed did have an affair with Peggy. She had been a star in a high-school play and a target of romantic interests of many young men. But their liaison happened twenty-five years ago the idea of him being Christa's father is simply inconceivable! (a neat pun!)

Now that he has met Christa, Graham is interested in tracking Peggy, perhaps to confront her about her lies, but maybe also just to see how she is a quarter of century later. Yet Graham also has another motive to maintain contact with Christa: he is on the verge of falling in love with her, despite the rather major age difference. He conducts an investigation, which is the lamest part of the novel. There is a scene in a pub in the town where Peggy lived in her youth: every drinking patron in the pub seems to know everything about Peggy, her family, her lovers, etc. The horrible "word on the street" literary cliché strikes again!

The reader learns more and more about the momentous events from the past. The plot further thickens when a dead body is discovered and the local police have to investigate a case of murder. For a brief while the action even moves to near Cheyenne, Wyoming.

The last third of the book is highly readable, almost compulsively. It also seems to be much better written then the earlier parts, overlong, and frankly boring. I like the clever and rather unexpected denouement. So, all in all, while this is quite a forgettable novel, it is not a particularly unpleasant way of spending few hours of one's time.

Two and a quarter stars.



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Pulse by Julian Barnes

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


"For some, the sunlight catches on the telescope out there in the lagoon; for others, not. We choose, we are chosen, we are unchosen."

This striking quote comes from Carcassonne, one of the stories in Julian Barnes' collection titled Pulse (2011), an unusually diverse set of literary pieces. Some pieces are proper stories, others are vignettes, impressions, or just captured dialogue. What unites the pieces is the outstanding prose and the author's wisdom about all things human. I had a great time reading the book and being unable to offer any synthetic or summarizing observations, I will comment on some of my favorite pieces.

East Wind, the first piece in the collection, is in fact a proper story. A divorced real-estate agent meets an Eastern European waitress in a British coastal town. They enter a relationship and the story ends with a major twist that has political undertones.

At Phil and Joanna's is a four-part account of a conversation between a group of six friends: they have dinner together and they talk freely on various topics: love, sex, drinking, the essence of Europeanness, immigration, economy, well, even Barrack Obama and Hillary Clinton. The conversation is slightly boozy and at places it reminds one of a "thought diarrhea" but - at least to me - it is compulsively readable. It is also quite "meta": there are metaphors about metaphors and puns about puns. A choice piece for anyone who is or aspires to be an intellectual.

My other favorite is the short, sad, and lyrical piece called Marriage Lines: a recently widowed man comes back to an island where he an his wife had been happy together:

"He had thought he could recapture, and begin to say farewell. He had thought that grief might be assuaged [...] But he was not in charge of grief. Grief was in charge of him."

Mr. Barnes is a particularly astute observer of relationships in couples: the story Trespass and the wonderful vignette Complicity are studies in the dynamic of building, sustaining, and ending relationships.

Harmony is a story that will likely stay in the reader's mind. Set in the 18th century it is an account of a noted physician, named by the author only as M---------, who uses magnetic therapy to cure blindness in a young and gifted pianist, Maria Theresia von P----------. The story refers to actual historical events: Franz Mesmer was famous in the second half of the 18th century as a Vienna-based physician who studied the so-called animal magnetism and tried to use magnets in the therapy. Obviously, the author is less interested in the story and more in its psychological and sociological dimensions.

Three and three quarter stars.




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Bad Intentions by Karin Fossum

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


"It might be good to let yourself sink, he thought, stop the fear flowing through your body for good. An explosion in his head, a burning sensation in his lungs and it would be all over."

I am very sad as I have just read the third Karin Fossum's book in a row that I really do not like that much. About two months ago I was singing utter praise for the Norwegian author and in my review of Hell Fire I even wrote " Of hundreds of authors [...] that I have read in over 50 years, Ms. Fossum joins only Nicolas Freeling and Denise Mina in the select trio of mystery writers for whom I feel a deep, total, and virtually uncritical admiration." and explained in detail why I love Ms. Fossum's books so much. Well, the blind fascination is over. I need to acknowledge the truth. Some of her books are great. Not all! Bad Intentions (2008) appears to me the least favorite of all her books.

Jon, a young man, a boy really, is away from a psychiatric hospital where he is treated for anxiety and depression. His two best friends, Axel and Philip, take him camping on the shores of the Dead Water Lake. When they decide to go out on the lake in a rowing boat Jon has an anxiety attack, falls over the side of the boat, and drowns.

Inspectors Sejer and Skarre arrive at the scene; they interrogate Axel and Philip as well as Jon's mother. They also learn that all three boys had been routinely questioned in a missing person's case the year before. We meet some interesting people in the course of the investigation: Sejer's conversation with Dr. Wigert, the psychiatrist who was in care of Jon, is, to me, the highpoint of the entire novel. The reader is also offered hints that Jon was heavily burdened with a secret: something traumatic must have happened in his recent past.

About mid-novel the author begins offering fragments of Jon's diary, which - from the purely literary point of view - feels rather a clumsy and mechanical way of divulging the secrets. I do not particularly care for the characterization of Axel, one of the main characters, a sociopath always trying to be in control. His character reads more like a textbook case than a real person. I am also quite curious about the role of long passages involving his toothache; maybe I am just too obtuse to get the point. The character of Philip, a druggie and slacker, is shown more convincingly.

I used to praise Ms. Fossum for avoiding cheap sentimentality and overt didacticism in her novels. Well, yet another generalization of mine proves to be wrong: in this book several passages are far from stellar, for instance, the conversation between two mothers reads maudlin rather than deep. I feel that the author is a bit too intent on conveying her message and the layers of fiction that envelop the moral are just too flimsy. At least Ms. Fossum's writing is recognizable, and her short, clear sentences are still abound. The translation reads fine, which not always has been the case.

Well, I would have never expected not being able to recommend a Karin Fossum's novel. Learning something new every day...

Two stars.



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The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


"'[...] briefing is not reading. In fact it is the antithesis of reading. Briefing is terse, factual and to the point. Reading is untidy, discursive and perpetually inviting. Briefing closes down a subject, reading it opens it up.'"

A short review of a very short and uncommonly charming book about the pleasures of reading. Alan Bennett's The Uncommon Reader (2007), a novella which illustrates the transformative power of reading, could serve as a symbol what Goodreads is all about.

The Queen of the United Kingdom (the author clearly refers to the actual Queen), when looking for a stray dog of hers, happens upon a travelling library. She feels like checking a book out and so begins her love affair with reading, the affair that first amuses and then annoys the royal circles and particularly her numerous handlers. During that first encounter with the mobile library the Queen also meets another patron, Norman, a lowly kitchen worker in her Majesty's service. Norman, whom the Queen has promoted to the position of a page, becomes her literary guide, and she even takes to calling him her "amanuensis." Gradually, the high-level members of the Queen's entourage begin trying to channel the Queen's new passion into more "productive" domains or to discourage her from reading, which, inevitably, leads to a dramatic conclusion with a superb twist on the last page.

The Uncommon Reader is a feather-light book with wonderfully feather-light prose. It is also strongly inspiring, particularly to all of us here on Goodreads as it validates our love for books and reading. It is also hilarious and the reader will often giggle or laugh out loud as I did upon reading, for instance, the following sentence:

"Men (and this included Mrs Thatcher) wanted show."

A fabulous read!

Four stars.

I have a language question related to the book and addressed to native British English speakers. I had learned British English as my second language before I began using the U.S. version, so the impersonal form "one should" instead of "you should" or "people should" sounds natural to me. However in the novella the Queen uses the impersonal "one" particularly often when referring to herself: "One is relieved to hear it," "Are you suggesting one rations one's reading?" Is it a convention that a British monarch refers to herself or himself as "one"? Google has not helped me with finding an answer.




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When the Devil Holds the Candle by Karin Fossum

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


"He slipped his arm around her waist and held on tight, lifting her from the chair. She squealed with glee, but he noted with satisfaction the tiny hint of panic as he carried her across the room."

Karin Fossum, one of my most favorite writers manages to surprise me in three different ways with her When the Devil Holds the Candle (1998). First of all, I am surprised that this is again not a great book, not even - I am afraid - a very good one. It is far below the level of Ms. Fossum's best work like her masterpiece Black Seconds and below the beautifully sad Indian Bride .

Further, the novel has surprised me in that I like the thread about Chief Inspector Sejer's personal life. I have never warmed to his persona, seemingly aloof and cold, but here the author humanizes the detective through the presence of his girlfriend. Also, the whole thread is quite well written: many scenes between Sejer and Sara ring true. Ms. Fossum does a great job writing about love between mature people - not an easy thing to do. One can even find a short passage that is quite erotically charged - I have never seen it before in the author's works even if I have read almost all her novels that have been translated into English.

Alas, the last surprise is again of an unpleasant kind. The partial solution of the mystery thread is based on a rather cheap literary device, used and abused by many authors before, authors not as talented as Ms. Fossum. The mystery thread also greatly stretches the bounds of plausibility but then one does not read this author's books for the mystery component but rather for the characters' psychology.

The mystery thread is based on the disappearance of a young man. An elderly woman accosts Sejer's assistant, Skarre, during his appearance in court. The woman - who cryptically tells Skarre that the missing person does not have long to live - seems confused and the detective even suspects mental illness. The rest of the novel alternates between four threads: an internal monologue of one of the central characters, a thread that focuses on adventures, some of criminal nature, of two young men, Andreas and Zipp. The third thread, a procedural one, follows the investigation, and the last one is the "love story" of Sejer and Sara. While the chronological order of events is not kept strict the author manages to build mystery and suspense.

Other than the sweet and well-written passages about the Sejer-Sara relationship the best thing in the novel is the character of Andreas. I find him a full-bodied person rather than a paper-thin template. Andreas "saunters through life" (a great phrase!) with no ambition, no interests, no enthusiasm for anything. As many other characters in the novel he carries a secret, which distorts his life.

I very much like the slight ambiguity of the ending since it validates my belief that no one ever knows what really is going on around them. A good, readable, engrossing novel, just not an extraordinary one.

Three and a quarter stars.



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The Noise of Time by Julian Barnes

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


"In Galileo's day, a fellow scientist
Was no more stupid than Galileo.
He was well aware that the Earth revolved,
But he also had a large family to feed."
(From Y. Yevtushenko's poem, translated by G. Reavey and quoted by Julian Barnes)

Another outstanding book from Julian Barnes. The Noise of Time (2016), a set of vignettes and impressions rather than a novel, would probably be best categorized as a fictionalized biography of the famous Russian composer, Dmitri Shostakovich. The emphasis is on the word 'fictionalized' as the readers who reach for this book to learn the "actual facts" from the life of the composer may be disappointed. First of all, one of the author's main points is that it is not really possible to know the exact truth about the past. So-called "facts" are in fact memories or "versions" of events and the past exists only as a set of interpretations. Secondly, recounting events from the composer's life is not the author's goal. Mr. Barnes assembles Shostakovich's persona by constructing beliefs, motives, attributes, and even behaviors that fit his artistic vision.

What the reader does get from the book is a realistic portrayal of the hard-to-imagine horrors of Soviet life and death under Stalin. I was lucky to be born in the waning years of Stalin's life: the Soviet-installed regime in Poland killed and tortured "only" a tiny fraction of the millions of ideology victims who perished in the Soviet-dominated part of Europe; the horrors did not touch me directly. But I know enough about these times from my family and friends to recognize how sharp and accurate Mr. Barnes' depiction of the horrors of human depravity, enslavement, humiliation and pain is.

In those dark times of humanity any citizen could expect to be arrested without any reason at any time, locked in a cell, tortured for days and days, until that citizen decided to confess to non-existing crimes, possibly denounce many other innocent people, and only then be shot. Quick execution was for lucky people. The worst was having to collaborate with the murderers if one wanted to save their family. The worst was having to denounce your friends and betray your ideals in order to save your wife and children.

One of the two most moving passages in the book is about Shostakovich's nightly ritual of preparing for the arrest and trying the spare his family from humiliation:

"Each night he followed the same routine: he evacuated his bowels, kissed his sleeping daughter, kissed his wakeful wife, took the small case from her hands. [...] And then he stood and waited."

Another touching fragment recounts the composer's dramatic visit, with a "peacemaking" mission to New York where - in the "greatest humiliation of his life" - he denounced Igor Stravinsky, his musical idol, a composer whom he greatly admired. Mr. Barnes skillfully shows Shostakovich's two faces: one of a public supporter of the Communist party and - at the same time - the other, of an "enemy of the people" waiting for arrest and wondering why he has been spared.

American readers often do not have any notion of how a system governed by ideology (any ideology!) works and how anyone can be forced to commit the vilest acts to spare their family. I strongly recommend this book. For a wider and deeper panorama of the Soviet-era horrors I recommend Anne Applebaum's Gulag or The Crushing of Eastern Europe .

Four stars.




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