We may experience the same day with a person, but we can bet that our memories will not match. Everyone knows, intellectually, that we all look at the world differently. We all have different perspectives of different events.
What does that mean for the truth? What does that mean for the truth of our lives?
Those are the questions that Barnes explores in this novel. LIke I’ve said before, Barnes is like your best friend who’s also a philosopher, a character in the novel asking you to come along on a mind-bending journey with him. His novels smash the fourth wall at random, they play with perspective and perception.
But this is not the best of his novels. The above questions occupy the first half or so of the book, it’s true, but then the novel takes a turn towards the psychological. Every story is the same–father runs away, girl develops daddy complex, for instance–but every story is different. Although now that I write it out, it seems like just another facet of what I was talking about earlier.
Maybe Barnes is just way, way smarter than I am.