The Sense of an Ending

I've been pleading with Mike to read it just so he can talk through the ending with me. I enjoyed this years Man Booker Prize winner for its ability to weave philosophy of memory with story, but oh how hard it was to finish it and not see a bright red bow tied in a perfect knot. After letting a few hours settle between me and the ending (allusion to title?), I feel better and even somewhat resolved about the plot twist and ambiguities lying there-in. I love personal documents and the history they reveal, however inaccurate, and I also feel a new sense of aging this year, so much of all the waxing thoughtful about time and memory and record keeping fell on receptive ears. I, however, could see this being a stumbling block for others. Readable, it was, as the Booker Prize givers claimed it would be; worthy of a prize, maybe.

"I survived. 'He survived to tell the tale'-that's what people say, don't they? History isn't the lies of the victors, as I once glibly assured Old Jo Hunt; I know that now. It's more the memories of the survivors, most of whom are neither victorious nor defeated."

"We muddle along, we let life happen to us, we gradually build up a store of memories. There is the question of accumulation, but not in the sense that Adrian meant, just the simple adding up and adding on of life. And as the poet pointed out, there is a difference between addition and increase. Had my life increased, or merely added to itself? There had been addition - and subtraction - in my life, but how much multiplication? And this gave me a sense of unease, of unrest."

"Does character develop over time? In novels, of course it does: otherwise there wouldn't be much of a story. But in life? I sometimes wonder. Our attitudes and opinions change, we develop new habits and eccentricities; but that's something different, more like decoration. Perhaps character resembles intelligence, except that character peaks a little 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."