A rabid press turns on her (as we could no doubt easily imagine it turning on any one of us), doorsteps her, takes what she says out of context, whips up a vicious froth. What begins as initials in her notebooks gives way to a greater fascination, a lecture for the London Review of Books that brings shame upon her (yet one more way in which Barnes, himself such an astute observer of life as it goes on around us, looks to explore one of the many current modern dilemmas – does one speak up? Does one hold one’s tongue? To be cancelled or not to be cancelled, eh Horatio?).

Obviously there is a connection to Julian. One is left, Mathew Arnold-like on Dover beach, trying to connect nothing with nothing.Īnd then we return to the story of Elizabeth Finch. Barnes’ erudition feels a little like the erudition on display in Paul Auster’s recent biography of Stephen Crane – it is too much, it outstays its welcome, it wears on the nerves. But – and it is a gigantic but – the lightness of touch on display in The Man in the Red Coat or, for that matter, in A History of the World in 10 ½ chapters, is not evident here. If you’ve dipped your toe in the waters of Barnes’ most recent nonfiction, The Man in the Red Coat, you’ll have a flavour of what to expect in his telling of the life of Julian – it is as much about how Julian was seen by later historians as it is about Julian himself (although we hear you when you tell us that those could well both be the same thing). After she dies, she bequeaths her books and papers to her friend, our narrator, who takes his own sweet time to arrive at the conclusion that there were really no bombshells to be uncovered – but by way of tribute he writes an essay about Julian the Apostate, a Roman Emperor from 361 to 363, which fills a goodly third of this small book. To begin with, it seems we have a novel keen to tell us the story of one Elizabeth Finch, a teacher of sorts, a genuine individual, an interesting character, as observed by one of her students, a man between marriages unable to deliver the demands of the course thanks to various pressures who goes on to be her curious, detached friend over a number of years and a number of dinners, during which she always picked up the bill.Įlizabeth is a compelling and curious woman. What we have here is a veritable game of two halves, each of which are separated by a half-time of undue length that sorely tests your patience with the story being told. But even we have struggled with his latest.

Bookmunch regulars will know that we like Julian Barnes a whole lot. Ah, what a mixed-up, muddled-up, shook up book is Elizabeth Finch.

Julian barnes elizabeth finch reviews