Customer Reviews

Letters from London

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Julian Barnes is never cowed by the seeming smallness of subject; he turns it into a tiny gem. Conversely, he is willing to go all sails unfurled into vast global matters. There is a great deal more politics in the collection than I expected. Mr. Barnes must be former Prime Minister Thatcher's bęte noir for he ever so elegantly lacerates her at every turn. However, since the political letters are highly topical and they were written between 1991 and 1994, it is a bit like reading yesterday's newspaper.

He fares much better when musing over a small happenings or events. Somehow he sparks our interest and amusement in such unlikely subjects as Building Mazes or the First World Championship Chess Match Held in Great Britain. I think he is at his best and wittiest when discussing traits of his fellow Englishmen. In his letter "Froggy, Froggy" talking about the lack of understanding between the average Brit and the French cast of mind: "The bickering legacy of history is exacerbated on the British side by the poverty of geography. Britain has only France as its obvious neighbor, while France may divert itself with three other major cultures-Spain, Italy, and Germany. Beyond France's southern shore lies Africa; beyond Britain's northern shore lie the Faeroe Islands and many seals. Small wonder, then, that we think about the French much more than they think about us. The British are obsessed by the French, whereas the French are only intrigued by the British."

"Letters From London" can be enjoyed in small parcels, a letter at a time or read straight through. Highly pleasurable for anyone who is even a minor anglophile.

The writing is clean and purposeful. You never feel like you're reading an article or newspaper feature, but more gripping prose. The wit and very english dryness is incredibly effective at captivating the reader. You feel yourself cringing at the truths and shocked at the revelations, but at the turn of a page you'll be quietly laughing to and at yourself. A great book to read anywhere.

A primary limitation with most journalism - even writing of the highest quality, is an inbuilt transience. These are Julian Barnes's Letters from London 1990-1995, written for the New Yorker magazine. Certainly they reflect Barnes's obvious talents as an astute and witty essayist, political commentator and shrewd social observer. There are enough jokes here and apposite observations of various aspects of British life during this era to enlighten and entertain. But I can't quite picture who exactly would want to purchase such a collection of journalism now, ten years after Barnes finished his phase as the New Yorker's London correspondent. The essays cover themes such as Margaret Thatcher's resignation, the early years of the Fatwa imposed by the Iranian Government on Salman Rushdie in 1989, the televising of the House of Commons and a 1993 World Championship Chess match between Nigel Short and Gary Kasparov. Most of these issues are now not only finished but sufficient time has now elapsed that the roller of history has imprinted them firmly into the ground. In other words, they are dead. So who would be interested in reading essays written contemporaneously with the events they cover? - avid Julian Barnes fans? Hobbyists of social history? People who merely hold a wistful nostalgia for British public life during those years? Julian Barnes continues to write intelligent and perceptive journalism on current events these days, so unless you are particularly interested in reviewing the views of a liberal left winger of a curiously transitional stage of British politics (fittingly, the book starts with an essay on Thatcher and ends with one on Blair), I would recommend reading either Julian Barnes's novels or his more recent essays.

This collection of "letters" by Mr. Julian Barnes, are actually a collection of articles that he wrote during his 5 years as the London Correspondent for The New Yorker Magazine. His predecessor held the position for over half a Century. However if judged by the quality of this collection of work, tenure is in no way related to talent. A book's preface is rarely mentioned as a great piece of writing. This preface is, and that's before the true collection begins.

If you have never read a work by Mr. Barnes, this would be a great place to begin. I have read almost all of his work, and this series of articles or short stories are really tremendous. I don't know how writers feel about the topic, but it would seem to be more difficult to be constrained by actual events, than having the ability to let their imaginations fill their books. Mr. Barnes takes some topics that are truly mundane on the surface, and transforms them into extremely clever pieces.

One of the comments on the jacket commented the table of contents alone justified the price of the book. A bit of hyperbole perhaps, but they are clever and more often than not lead to subjects that are very distant from what a first glance may suggest. "MPTV" gives his take on how one of the older operating institutions of Democracy is changed when cameras put the MP'S on public display. "Britannia's New Bra Size" has nothing to do with undergarments, but is full of his unique wit on the peculiarities of British Bureaucracy and the imaginative ways it consumes years.

His pen strays From England to France, The United States, and the Nation's Leaders. He is even handed with his crisp wit, but he never sinks to levels lower than his subjects have generally sunk before him.

I also enjoy the writing and humor of Christopher Buckley. If you do as well you will enjoy Mr. Barnes. He is certainly a British Practitioner of the art of satire, and while I never have heard a satisfactory explanation of what "British Humor" is, this man excels at it.

Julian Barnes was London correspondent for The New Yorker from 1989 to 1994. This book is a collection of columns written during that period.

And it's terrific. Barnes is extraordinarily smart and unfathomably erudite, qualities which - oddly enough - don't always serve him well in his fiction (he can't help showing off, which distracts the reader and detracts from the writing). But in a collection of reportage pieces like this one, his intelligence and breadth of knowledge add to the quality of the essays.

He is also hilarious. This list of sub-entries under the index entry for "clothes" gives an indication of how funny he is -

Queen's jodhpurs
shabbiness of MPs
reduced shabbiness of MPs
Nonna Longden's knickers
tantric influence on Mrs Thatcher's wardrobe
John major's grey suits
John Major's underpants
Glenda Jackson's wardrobe
positive smartness of Labour MPs
badnews cufflinks
Queen's clothing allowance
coat-folding at Buckingham palace
more badnews cufflinks
regal aspect of Mrs Thatcher's frocks
incineration of Chanel dresses
Queen's fuchsia ensemble
British underwear
Tony Blair's jacket
Pirie knot for bow ties

The list of sub-entries under the index entry for "Margaret Thatcher" is also side-splittingly funny, but too long to include in this review, alas.

Though the material is slightly dated by now, the brilliance of the writing still makes this book worth reading.

But it is hard to take Barnes' outrage about the fatwa against his friend Salman Rushdie seriously when you know the dreadful leftwing bilge he spouted about George Bush and Tony Blair before the liberation of Iraq ("not worth a single child's finger," he said, conveniently ignoring that children and their fingers were always in considerably more danger from the regime than from bombs). Barnes is another dedicated follower of political fashion who can express solidarity with another trendy writer of his class, but can't conjure up sympathy for ordinary Iraqis if it would mean, oh horrors, letting brute America use its military to save them.