"THE SENSE OF AN ENDING" - Julian Barnes (UK 2011)
This has got to be one of the dullest books I've ever read. But out of respect for - no, that's crap, it was sheer pigheadedness - I battled on to the end. I have had my Booker Prize prejudices confirmed yet again. Eight or nine times out of ten the judging panel seems to not be able to tell award-winning fiction from a bag of frogs.
Geez it was ordinary, maudled on and on and on for about 45k words (about novella size), exploring something terribly fascinating to the author I'm sure, concerning (I think) love and relationships, but gave me zilch. Less than zilch. I would've found out more about the human condition IN a bag of frogs.
All I can say in conclusion, if this was "The best work of long form fiction written in English and published in the UK or Ireland in 2011", then godknows what the losers were like. (Sorry Julian).
Cheers....
T.R.E.
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