Julian Barnes in conversation with Ian McEwan

When two titans of British literature take the stage together, the atmosphere is inevitably charged with a blend of nostalgia, sharp wit, and profound literary insight. Such was the case when Julian Barnes and Ian McEwan, friends and contemporaries for half a century, sat down to discuss Barnes’s new novel, Departures. The event marked a significant, perhaps melancholic, milestone: Barnes has announced that this will be his final book.

The conversation offered a rare glimpse into the shared history of the generation that redefined British fiction in the 1970s. From their early days in London’s literary pubs to their current status as elder statesmen of letters, Barnes and McEwan explored the slippery nature of memory, the architecture of the novel, and the philosophical weight of facing one’s own mortality. What followed was not merely a promotional talk, but a masterclass on the intersection of life and art.

Key Takeaways

• The End of an Era: Julian Barnes confirmed that Departures is intended to be his final work, citing a desire to "leave the stage" while he still possesses his full faculties.
• The Fallibility of Memory: A central theme of the discussion was how memory hardens into anecdote over time, often diverging from historical truth.
• Genre-Bending Structure: McEwan praised Departures for its postmodern blend of memoir, essay, and fiction, particularly a twist involving characters who step out of the narrative to confront the author.
• Literary longevity: The authors reflected on their 50-year friendship, the 1983 "Best of Young British Novelists" cohort, and the evolution of the literary landscape from print reviews to the digital age.
• Confronting Mortality: The conversation navigated the inevitability of death without sentimentality, referencing Larkin, Nagel, and the concept of the writer’s legacy.

A Friendship Forged in Ink and Ale

The rapport between Barnes and McEwan is built on a foundation of fifty years of shared history. Their dialogue opened with a journey back to the mid-1970s, specifically to the Pillars of Hercules pub in London’s Soho. This era, often romanticized in literary history, was characterized by a tight-knit, if occasionally competitive, circle of writers including Martin Amis, Christopher Hitchens, and the poets of the day.

Barnes recalled their early encounters with self-deprecating humor, noting that while McEwan and Amis seemed to possess an abundance of confidence, he felt plagued by shyness. This dynamic, however, belied the immense success they would all achieve. They reminisced about the influential literary editors of the time—figures like Ian Hamilton and Terence Kilmartin—who acted as avuncular guardians to this rising generation. These gatekeepers provided a rigor and mentorship that both authors feel is perhaps less centralized in today's fragmented digital landscape.

McEwan noted that looking at Barnes's bookshelf felt like reviewing his own life as a reader. The consistency of purpose in Barnes's work, from Metroland to the present, serves as a timeline of their shared era.

Departures: The Architecture of a Final Act

The focal point of the evening was Barnes’s latest work, Departures. McEwan, having read the book with the eye of a craftsman, dissected its unique structure. The novel operates in five parts, beginning with memoir and reflections on death, before executing a narrative pivot that McEwan described as "fictional magic."

Stepping Through the Mirror

McEwan highlighted a specific section where two characters, Stephen and Gene, seemingly from Barnes’s past, visit the author to discuss their relationship. It is only later revealed that these figures are entirely fictional. This meta-fictional device allows Barnes to step through the mirror of his own creation, blurring the lines between the creator and the created.

"You seem to step through a mirror into your fiction, and they're stepping out of the mirror, as it were, into your world."

This structural complexity serves a thematic purpose. By destabilizing the reader's sense of what is real, Barnes reinforces the book's inquiry into the reliability of narrative itself.

The Decision to Stop

Addressing the elephant in the room, Barnes elaborated on his decision to make Departures his last book. He rejected the romantic notion of dying mid-sentence, citing the practical nightmare of leaving unfinished work for executors to manage. Instead, he drew upon a quote from the Swedish filmmaker Ingmar Bergman to explain his timing.

"I take my hat while I can still reach the hat rack."

Barnes explained that he had reviewed his notebooks and found no urgent ideas demanding to be written. Rather than producing work of diminishing returns, he chose a "coup de théâtre"—a deliberate, curated exit.

The Treachery of Memory

A recurring theme in Barnes’s oeuvre, and central to this conversation, is the instability of memory. Barnes read a passage from the opening of the book discussing "Involuntary Autobiographical Memories" (IAMs). He contrasted the romantic Proustian madeleine—which triggers a gentle wash of nostalgia—with a neurological case study where a patient was bombarded by a chronological cascade of every specific instance of tasting apple pie.

Barnes humorously extrapolated this to less pleasant experiences, asking the audience to imagine reliving every embarrassment or moral failing in chronological order. This led to a serious reflection on how we construct our identities.

"You think you have remembered something just so, and the more times you've remembered it and retold it, the more times you become convinced of its truth."

Both authors agreed that the dead eventually "shrink into anecdotes." The complex, three-dimensional reality of a person fades, replaced by a polished, oft-repeated story that may bear little resemblance to the actual events. Writing, in this sense, becomes a way to fix a version of the truth before it dissolves.

The Writer’s Craft and the Reader’s Role

The conversation frequently turned to the mechanics of writing, offering insights into how two masters approach their craft. Topics ranged from the importance of first lines to the value of rereading classics.

The Significance of Re-reading

McEwan posited that the architecture of a novel often only becomes visible upon a second reading. Barnes agreed, noting that while a first reading is driven by plot and character, a return visit allows the reader to see the structural choices the author made. Barnes mentioned his recent re-reading of Dante’s Commedia and Tolstoy’s War and Peace, finding new political resonance and structural brilliance that he had missed as a younger man.

Life vs. Books

McEwan quoted a past essay by Barnes, challenging the idea that literature is an escape from reality. Barnes defended the sentiment, arguing that reading is a deepening of life, not a subtraction from it.

"When you read a great book, you don't escape from life. You plunge deeper into it."

This philosophy underpins the inclusion of literary figures like Flaubert and Baudelaire in Departures. For Barnes, reading rewires the brain, and the experiences gained through books are as valid and transformative as those gained through direct action.

Conclusion: A Quiet Farewell

The evening concluded with a poignant reading of the final page of Departures. In it, Barnes addresses the reader directly, dismantling the barrier between author and audience. He rejects the role of the didactic sage, preferring instead the image of a writer and reader sitting side-by-side at a café, observing the world together.

This final image encapsulates Barnes’s career: observant, unsentimental, yet deeply connected to the human experience. As McEwan noted in his closing remarks, while Barnes may be stepping back from publishing, a writer never truly stops "noticing." The books on the shelf remain—a testament to a lifetime of observation, signed with love, and ready to be reread.