Book name- CHANGING MY MIND
Author-Julian Barnes
Published by- Notting Hill Editions
Price-£8.99
In an era of podcasts and audiobooks, it is no longer surprising when works of fiction and non-fiction become available in the audio format. It is far more rare, though, for a planned radio show to turn into a collection of essays. This is what Julian Barnes has done in Changing My Mind, a slim volume of 57-odd pages. Those familiar with Barnes’s works can usually count on two things — his readers usually come away both enlightened and entertained. Biting comedy, bold experimentation, explorations of memory and the elusive nature of truth, and a deep, abiding love for France and all things French are central elements in Barnes’s books.
But those who eagerly paid the relatively hefty price for this thin manifesto on how Barnes has, over the years, changed his mind on a variety of things would undoubtedly be disappointed. Anyone who has read even a few works by Barnes would find that the author has already written all that he has to say here in his earlier works. In fact, he has said it with much more elegance. Shorn of his novelistic flair, these essays are rather laconic and staid.
On the very first page of the book, in the opening to the titular essay, Barnes — the editor and proofer must share the blame for this — begins with a quote wrongly attributed to the economist, John Maynard Keynes, about changing one’s mind. While this does not affect what Barnes goes on to write, it is unexpected in a book by an author of his stature. There are other quibbles: is this one rambling essay on various topics — ‘memories’, ‘words’, ‘politics’, ‘books’ — that the author claims to have changed his mind about or is it a set of essays? The book seems as confused as the reader on this — the back cover calls it an “engaging and erudite essay”, while the attribution says “Versions of these essays were first broadcast on BBC Radio 3...” [reviewer’s italics].
Most importantly, though, Barnes seems to have changed his mind on precious little except the novels of Georges Simenon and E.M. Forster, whom he once considered “fusty, musty, dusty” but now finds “delightfully unpatriotic”. The final essay (if it can be called that) on “Age and Time” seems impossible to have come from the pen of the man who also gave readers the poignant memoir, Levels of Life, which dwelt on exactly these themes but with far more depth of feeling and an underlying humour that sharpened the edge of mortality.
Changing My Mind does have characteristic flashes of Barnes’s intellect. But it mostly reads like an offhand interview that the author may have given to someone where he does not delve into or engage with any of the passing thoughts. For readers used to Barnes’s shining wit, this book comes across as terribly dull. These fleeting reflections may work fine as a radio show playing in the background while the audience is engaged in other tasks. As it stands, the content of the book would perhaps be better suited as a long-form piece in a literary magazine.