The Sense of an Ending is only a few hundred pages long, a quick read that often refuses to delve deeply into scene or description. Instead, the book relays information the same way it would actually be remembered years later: as a story the narrator has crafted about his own life, a hazy story, missing details, second-guessed and puzzled over. It is a fast read, but not a light one. The seemingly slight words on the pages are more than a little troubling, and I left the book with a strong sense of being unsettled, jostled out of my narrative assumptions. Life is a story we tell ourselves, but life itself is not a story. Read more on my blog.
This book moves through time and space like ocean waves, or like the shifting of memory. Mostly while I was reading it I drank it down like water, gulp after gulp, every word. A lot of terrible things happen, and Lidia, in the book, is the originator of a lot of those terrible things. But she writes them fiercely, with shining words, so I could say yes to all of it. Until I got to this one part. In this part she is a visiting writer at a university where she meets a beautiful man who is a student of hers. They proceed to have mind-blowing sex. Also, he is married. And then they decide to have a child. She describes herself walking through the halls of the university where she works, her belly swelling, smirking at the prudish academics who would eventually fire her. Read more here.