‘The Story of Mats Israelson’ by Julian Barnes

During the time I worked as a therapist, one philosophical issue that kept presenting was the conundrum between determinism and free will. How much are we owned by our circumstances, and to what extent if any can we break loose? In the space of twenty-three pages, Julian Barnes, a writer I revere, explores this dilemma with all the precision and humanity you might expect from such a profound chronicler of the human spirit.

The story is set in a small industrial town in nineteenth century Sweden. The community is self-enclosed, inward looking and stiflingly conventional. Standards of propriety are rigid and enforced by prying and gossip. In this unpromising setting two people, both, by their own admission, unimaginative and in many respects unremarkable, fall deeply and unexpectedly in love. They are each married to other people. As Scott Fitzgerald once remarked, there is no confusion like the confusion of a simple mind, and Barnes tells their story with a simplicity of style that both reflects the tone of their inner turmoil and belies the minute subtleties he manages to tease out in their conflicted situation. It’s intensely clever writing in which all the cleverness is hidden, so that what remains is the tragedy of ordinary lives offered a glimpse of the heavens, but predestined to be nothing other than ordinary.

Strangely, Barnes’s short stories seem rarely to find their way into anthologies. Can’t think why.

Published in The Lemon Table,Jonathan Cape, 2004

‘Hygiene’ by Julian Barnes

When I think of the story ‘Hygiene’, by Julian Barnes, I think of the image of the aged, feeble major, stuck up a ladder during his yearly gutter-cleaning task. Suddenly, unpredictably, he is terrified that he will fall. The major is frozen on his rung, unable to go up or down, he is “Scared fartless. Of the whole damn thing.” ‘Hygiene’ is a story, carried by the Major’s perfectly honed voice, about aging and sexuality, detailing his long-term relationship with a London prostitute called Bab. Yet, ‘Hygiene’ is not so much about sex, as it is about change, the loss of landmarks and moments in life when you realize you are no longer the person you used to be.

First published in the New Yorker, September 1999. Collected in The Lemon Table, Picador, 2004. Also available as a Storycuts digital single

‘Hygiene’ by Julian Barnes

It is curious what remains after we close the pages of a book. Julian Barnes is one of those writers I once liked and grew away from as I discovered writers that spoke more directly to me. Though I am sure I couldn’t bear to reread Hygiene, it has stayed with me, an odd and discomfiting story about an old retired major that comes to London once a year for a regimental dinner and to visit a retired prostitute. I no longer have the book, but looked it up the other day while in a bookshop and was shocked by the paucity of the story. I think the story stays with me because it evokes my father’s depression and insecurity, though he would never have hidden behind the fruity military language.

From The Lemon Table, Cape, 2004