Page 54 - Vinkler, Jonatan, Ana Beguš and Marcello Potocco. Eds. 2019. Ideology in the 20th Century: Studies of literary and social discourses and practices. Koper: University of Primorska Press
P. 54
Ideology in the 20th Century: studies of literary and social discourses and practices
the same?’ (Barnes 2011, 82). Or, as he says elsewhere: “I don’t envy Adri-
an his death, but I envy him the clarity of his life” (Barnes 2011, 98).
The first part of the novel exposes the narrator’s memory almost as
a lyrical poem, in a precise language, logically and convincingly, with a
skillful departure from the possibility that the past can be fully restored,
but also in a tone that believes in the mentally healthy relativization of
existence. In the second part of the novel it all collapses: instead of the
consistent memory, there are cracks that cannot be filled; instead of a
compact artistic treatment, there is the disintegration of the previously
told story, the cooling of the atmosphere, the victory of fragmentation,
and even an unreliable narrator and his story. Barnes changes the rhythm
of Tony Webster’s narrative because there are points in life and writing
when formal embroidering becomes a forgery. His narrative becomes a
54 process of archiving multiplied losses, but this process is followed by the
best of earlier Barnes, marked by an elegant transition from the analytical
to discursive style. The optimistic wisdom of a critically oriented youth
gives way to the agnosticism of mature years and suddenly forgotten mi-
nutiae become as important as life itself. At one point in the second part
of the novel, Tony recalls his late adolescence, when his mind “would
make itself drunk with images of adventurousness” and how in the late
twenties he admitted himself that his “adventurousness had long since
petered out” and that he “would never do those things adolescence had
dreamt about” (Barnes 2011, 87). After that, he begins mowing the lawn,
going on vacations, and actually living his enclosed life.
What does it mean to be mature? According to Tony Webster, we
think we are mature when we feel secure—and we feel secure because
we tend to avoid things instead of facing them. Finally, he is wonder-
ing whether the character is evolving in time, and following Kermode’s
points to the fact that this is surely true in the novels, but not always true
in the so-called real life:
Perhaps character resembles intelligence, except that character peaks a lit-
tle later: between twenty and thirty, say. And after that, we’re just stuck with
what we’ve got. We’re on our own. If so, that would explain a lot of lives,
wouldn’t it? And also—if this isn’t too grand a word—our tragedy (Barnes
2011, 97).
Tony’s tragedy is caused by a bad accumulation, a wrong bet that brings
out a loss instead of gain: he avoids strong and profound ties with people
because he is afraid of the end or loss. Fear of the end is worse than the
end itself: during his studies, he did not fully enjoy the relationship with
the same?’ (Barnes 2011, 82). Or, as he says elsewhere: “I don’t envy Adri-
an his death, but I envy him the clarity of his life” (Barnes 2011, 98).
The first part of the novel exposes the narrator’s memory almost as
a lyrical poem, in a precise language, logically and convincingly, with a
skillful departure from the possibility that the past can be fully restored,
but also in a tone that believes in the mentally healthy relativization of
existence. In the second part of the novel it all collapses: instead of the
consistent memory, there are cracks that cannot be filled; instead of a
compact artistic treatment, there is the disintegration of the previously
told story, the cooling of the atmosphere, the victory of fragmentation,
and even an unreliable narrator and his story. Barnes changes the rhythm
of Tony Webster’s narrative because there are points in life and writing
when formal embroidering becomes a forgery. His narrative becomes a
54 process of archiving multiplied losses, but this process is followed by the
best of earlier Barnes, marked by an elegant transition from the analytical
to discursive style. The optimistic wisdom of a critically oriented youth
gives way to the agnosticism of mature years and suddenly forgotten mi-
nutiae become as important as life itself. At one point in the second part
of the novel, Tony recalls his late adolescence, when his mind “would
make itself drunk with images of adventurousness” and how in the late
twenties he admitted himself that his “adventurousness had long since
petered out” and that he “would never do those things adolescence had
dreamt about” (Barnes 2011, 87). After that, he begins mowing the lawn,
going on vacations, and actually living his enclosed life.
What does it mean to be mature? According to Tony Webster, we
think we are mature when we feel secure—and we feel secure because
we tend to avoid things instead of facing them. Finally, he is wonder-
ing whether the character is evolving in time, and following Kermode’s
points to the fact that this is surely true in the novels, but not always true
in the so-called real life:
Perhaps character resembles intelligence, except that character peaks a lit-
tle later: between twenty and thirty, say. And after that, we’re just stuck with
what we’ve got. We’re on our own. If so, that would explain a lot of lives,
wouldn’t it? And also—if this isn’t too grand a word—our tragedy (Barnes
2011, 97).
Tony’s tragedy is caused by a bad accumulation, a wrong bet that brings
out a loss instead of gain: he avoids strong and profound ties with people
because he is afraid of the end or loss. Fear of the end is worse than the
end itself: during his studies, he did not fully enjoy the relationship with
