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Thanaphobe

By AMY FINCH  |  December 22, 2008

He sails down tributary rivers of thought, pondering people’s need for a narrative to glean meaning from life. Although he himself makes a career out of narrative, he views life as anything but — “life is a matter of cosmic hazard, its fundamental purpose mere self-perpetuation.” And forget about achieving immortality through the written word: “Eventually, the publishing houses forget, academic interest recedes, society changes, and humanity evolves a little further, as evolution carries out its purposeless purpose of rendering us all the equivalent of bacteria and amoebae.”

Barnes blames his thanaphobia on his imagination. But without imagination we’d have no eloquent, erudite books to evoke a distant future in which bacteria and amoebae slither out their lives high atop the fossilized civilization of homo sapiens.

JULIAN BARNES | Brookline Booksmith, 279 Harvard St, Brookline | September 26 at 7 pm | 617.566.6660 or www.brooklinebooksmith.com.

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ARTICLES BY AMY FINCH
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  •   REVIEW: BAD COP  |  June 05, 2009
    Title a book Bad Cop and brain-basher types like Harvey Keitel and Ray Liotta spring to mind.
  •   THANAPHOBE  |  December 22, 2008
    Novelist Julian Barnes is a brilliant writer, but he’s not self-revelatory.
  •   CAR TALK  |  August 04, 2008
    For days post-late-merge, Vanderbilt had feelings of guilt and confusion.
  •   MIKE EDISON WALKS ALONE  |  June 10, 2008
    On his death bed, Mike Edison probably won’t lament that he didn’t do this or he didn’t go there.
  •   HAPPY DAYS  |  April 08, 2008
    He eats rotten shark in Iceland, gets fried on Moroccan hash in the Netherlands, and graciously accepts a 14-inch gift penis in Bhutan.

 See all articles by: AMY FINCH

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