Niveles de vida

Por Julian Barnes

«Juntas dos cosas que no se habían juntado antes. Y el mundo cambia. La gente quizá no lo advierta en el momento, pero no importa. El mundo ha cambiado, no obstante.» El libro arranca con esta reflexión y en efecto reúne tres historias aparentemente inconexas que acaban mostrando secretos y sutiles lazos.

Niveles de vida habla de la aventura de vivir, de los retos imposibles, del amor que todo lo desborda y del dolor de la pérdida. Y lo hace entretejiendo tres piezas independientes. La primera nos habla de los pioneros de la conquista del cielo con los globos aerostáticos y de las iniciales tentativas de fotografías aéreas realizadas por Nadar, aspirando a ser el ojo de Dios. La segunda historia retoma a un personaje de la anterior, el coronel británico Fred Burnaby –bohemio, aventurero y viajero, que murió en Jartum–, del que se relata su pasión por la legendaria actriz Sarah Bernhardt. La tercera parte salta en el tiempo del siglo XIX al XX y de las historias ajenas a la propia: la muerte de su esposa.

No es la primera vez que Julian Barnes experimenta con las formas literarias. En este caso la ruptura con la narrativa más tradicional está al servicio de una aventura literaria de gran calado: indagar, huyendo del sentimentalismo, en el dolor causado por la pérdida del ser amado, adentrarse con las armas de la gran literatura en el territorio de la aflicción.

• Idioma: Español
• Editorial: Editorial Anagrama
• Fecha de lanzamiento: 21 jun 2017
• ISBN: 9788433935151

Julian Barnes

Julian Barnes (Leicester, 1946) se educó en Londres y Oxford. Está considerado como una de las mayores revelaciones de la narrativa inglesa de las últimas décadas. Entre muchos otros galardones, ha recibio el premio E.M. Forster de la American Academy of Arts and Letters, el William Shakespeare de la Fundación FvS de Hamburgo y es Chevalier de l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres.

Vista previa del libro

��+y\book_preview_excerpt.htmluZM����+<&�xۀ-h �j-ǐ�r��${8�iv3��dgO�搓��,��C���佪�|�$ �v�f���իWE5<��Z���?�����G/cMkp�~t�z��6��Uk+o*��)��(T>Vޛ��yf�a�K����`Hq=�j�-�H�]�Ƙ�]Gsz���W/͈���\���r��)p��71㯿O����VS�oL�����0�|V�����aj���ΜU8Jgq������Ц�:�U6�#�ǚ��5)r������\�ۘ�e�eX�<�g��,ML1`�o�m���L�[��p������ۘ`��ɤ6���پN<��.b��j�ī�8K?�Ea��F����o˪�|['��ώ��Փ���g��s��M��=?}��U���hS�'�V���x's8|�����`����f��h����L2��k��GK �]Ȍ ����ɫ_�4�A'�f�ސ����ؤ'����d\�:�����j����2X�#�~e]�����&�C8��［�~�C���C����|)��G��֧�;6�T�+��/>?��DG;۸�,p���`��)�3��f���)T[Z�5~E��F�����/\���Һ5�.YspƷ�ND�p�#lU[g�Lm�}G�M��5�l�8�6�J���
�4J�d~ϧ��6��l���J��&!k���mK�}o�����IJ������od���8�\XV����$��4��C"���Cڬ`���]�ll�����;�T#��ꄀD� (1d��v���H�G����j��p�(����z����;�H�����|��fc�f��?���^*[��O�M̯ ����w
��+�{��K��T�ύS+��}YUvO�/WV��'���A(z�{?���I9O��"2Ɂê�6�����%ԥ�O0�(�Y���˟"�1ኈ �_�I�&}y�ъ� ��"ۧ����`���4$�&�14�/�!/b��bA�&��1.#��Ba].4�GӪ������|��"���>�e�W��f�(�(�DYF$�Ì�QЈ�#���%?��'�} ����@hH0����eo+�� ߓ����Q�j[;%zA~�{ò�d9�hEU�Aǀ���E08e#��tr�8�;��K�E��Q�'��bb�_1oƲi;�. �D"˘��j��3mm��C�� �5\(��]F�;o��g��D�P&[S@P��\q���O}�_�M�Ų^�Y�| 3��y�ϷyA+0+ �B.��v|)�#^I+�m�`�}pMp �� ��ϯ��r�Z�Z����qBn���
,p��M�h$��MЦ��yX�{Ma0��Aj���ǟ�����v��nq��i�Ôe6]�*EH9ҏѰu�������2 �sO\��隡�F�Kg�~��i���L�g�2�6+I�5^�9�5�r�,�@'�����%�L,�/%Mw���q�6�5JPX�&���CV�%�83U5�p'�f>dh���p��>E�S�\��Eyv�JI��
�G
�<�M]���1s�bl��-�d�|��teb�6eh�E��n(9���p�C�a����Y e֮!I�m�+p�J�h;HfчR\�h=%O����On��@+Dl��W�ѣ�$yM��b��@�$���C# "�����*����PU�D�H�;���oK�����O'A���(��sXd�G*E#ss�*
-���g �3�ObV�
�;�6t$d �S��`�����@�*C�H�]�)���Fov�`:y���چ�� ��\52=ږS�Ӕ/E����uW���N٪w���0�ul�V%�E��`��/�]'���e��*C�$��Dd��u�:��K���ځ�I���сTp��j��e �cGi�Bo{�`���+]�=�'ώS�d��,S#��yIz�Kτ�,����K�N2�}"t�@������BK��B\j>>��e��`�z�j�|,��E��>���#�Ϊ����w,r �}9i���� �x+*�Li����t2v�Y��p�yE�6�����f��6K�a��gxs7��x��t.GUJ����gGe`�Р�'+�9���r�md�!�����w2ضe�V~�~���C�q�{�G���8B��^� �6��;ox�N�E��*�e?�E5 <�*X��^���Ň������X�f���&Ș����t��� ����� s�9w�6{�ъ,�eϦ���!�鸓�;��h�ߣ���|;"��g����aZ�Z��26H;0�� fr\�D©"T����W� ��iד92��~�/�<��%5� ���q��LJanr㤚V��{�h%,P�u������z�iU-k��� �Y"�R�y�������� c���df���8Gq�^�x�u�;uRh�/zP:l@�B��������- ѯM��y��|�L&�()�5�!�fA>kP���ɥ/̱W �w�|c�J�ߘ�P��TX@��5�ԑXD����0�,y��N�����_�``9�2���(&t���u�]t�naO�>G��D-�KϬ�*���D��t��G0�s䧅Ж����ZniF��}Xcv�:�Bq�R��]����S~�F��N�*��Qf����ǟ�����Ҥ @���9�-=���ߚ 6A�K��,���9�:[)i��H�Q�Hp��?�e}�Bњ�E�U鸽OꓦP>�/j�ߒ����Q�*��Q����}�_�~��z���<�M�����3���������&��X� ��)C�\Z���/�1ʗ�B�c�ܽ[!

Comentarios para Niveles de vida

[laura400 · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

It may be impossible to review this honestly and fairly. One feels sorrow for Barnes's deep grief and admiration for his deep love for his wife. It is understandable if Barnes felt he had to write this. As a published work, however, it isn't something I would recommend, other than to friends of the couple. I'll be interested to read the published reviews, since in the literary world that assignment would be a delicate one.

[davidroche_1 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

This is completely brilliant and absolutely moving. I started it at 2.00 in the morning as I couldn't sleep; big mistake. Finished it at 4.20am and then had no chance. Stunning.

[mlleehreen · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

"Early in life, the world divides crudely into those who have had sex and those who haven't. Later, into those who have known love, and those who haven't. Later still--at least, if we are lucky (or, on the other hand, unlucky)--it divides into those who have endured grief, and those who haven't. These divisions are absolute; they are the tropics we cross."

LEVELS OF LIFE is a book that demands hyperbole, but also repels it. It's the best thing I've read in a good long while, and I could go on in that vein: how beautiful the prose is, how elegant the structure, how much it moved me.

But that doesn't seem appropriate for a book about grief. A book that starts out measured, impersonal, like an essay (the first section, a history of ballooning, reminded me very much of W.G. Sebald) before crossing a fragile bridge into narrative non-fiction.

A Proustian bridge, featuring Sarah Bernhardt, passing by the Rue Fortuny, into an apartment that resembles Odette's. Barnes never mentions Proust directly--he doesn't have to; if you know Proust he's omnipresent--but what struck me is that the model for Proust's Albertine, Alfred Agnostinelli, died in a plane crash. That is the link between Barnes' essay on ballooning, THE SIN OF HEIGHT, and the third and final section of the novel, THE LOSS OF DEPTH. A meditation on the heights that Proust reached, his novel fueled by grief, and Barnes' experience of being dulled and diminished.

THE LOSS OF DEPTH is about being widowed. This section of the novel reminded me of reading Joan Didion's THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING...it's personal, and honest, and unvarnished--Barnes writes that he used the mantra "It's just the universe doing its stuff" while his wife was dying, repeating the same sentence to himself to get through the day, and in such an exquisitely crafted book there is something devastating about this phrase, which has no glamor of craft or eloquence.

Actually, the use of repetition in this book is incredible. I loved it from the opening line: "You put together two things that have not been put together before. And the world is changed. People may not notice at the time, but that doesn't matter. The world has been changed nonetheless." And the first section has a weightless, gleeful feel. "I could hear myself living," Barnes quotes one early balloonist as saying.

But the phrase changes with each iteration. At first 'the world is changed' sounds sort of...hopeful, or expectant. By the end it's a death knell, the beginning of Barnes' grief. LEVELS OF LIFE is a short little book. Easy to read in a sitting. And there's a simplicity to it, a directness. But the repetition of words and images is like a roundel or motet, making a simple phrase (a little phrase? Is this book meant to be the literary equivalent of Vinteuil's sonata?) increasingly complex.

Anyway. LEVELS OF LIFE is incredible. It is moving, and it should be read, and I would like to give a copy to everyone I know. I will finish with my favorite quote from the book.

"Love may not lead where we think or hope, but regardless of outcome it should be a call to seriousness and truth. If it is not that--if it is not moral in its effect--then love is no more than an exaggerated form of pleasure."

[lynnb_64 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Absolutely beautiful read. In this book, Julian Barnes writes about bringing together two things for the first time, and the profound changes that can occur. The first part talks about ballooning and photography, and is classic non-fiction, almost like a history. The second part talks about actress Sarah Bernhardt and her love, Burnaby and could be seen as speculative non-fiction. Finally, Mr. Barnes talks about his personal grief over the loss of his wife. This part of the book is so sad, but the writing is so beautiful and insightful and honest and reading it is, perhaps perversely, a pleasure.

[thebookjunky · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

Julian Barnes became a widower in 2008 when his wife died of a brain tumour at age 68 . Pat Kavanagh was a brilliant and well respected literary agent. They had been together, off and on but mostly on, for over 30 years.
The first two sections of the book, on the early days of ballooning, are mildly interesting but puzzling. Where is this going? He begins to tie them all together in the last section, which is a memoir of his grief. Still, the links seem a bit tenuous and stretched.
This last section is touching, sad, profound. It did feel sort of intrusive, or voyeuristic somehow, to be given this access. It felt like he needed to write out his grief, as a therapy for himself, and as a way to continue but then in some way finally end, his post mortem conversation with his wife.
It is another addition to the sadly expanding genre of 'grief lit'.

[jewel.barnett · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

The last chapter was excellent for those dealing with grief and loss. So many good takeaways.

[overgaard-2 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Lovely memoir of loss and grief

[osbaldistone · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Barnes' command of language will draw you in...his willingness to lay bare his beating heart will keep you reading to the end of this rather short essay triptych, though you may feel like a voyeur to someone's grief.Levels of Life has plenty of light-hearted moments, but a darkness lies over the work even then. This is not a cheery read, but it does leave the reader with hope, of a sort. And you will make and lose a friend before it's over.

[fhudnell-1 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

I read an uncorrected proof of this book which I received free from the publisher. This very short nonfiction book is about the history of ballooning, photography, love and grief. I am afraid that I found these topics a little difficult to reconcile.The first part of the book is about the history of ballooning in the 19th century - a dangerous and exciting enterprise that stoked the imagination of artists and inventors one of whom was portrait photographer Felix Tournachon, also known as Nadar. The recurring theme of the book is combining two things or people that had never been together before and creating something new, for good or bad. For example, combining ballooning and photography, or Sarah Bernhardt and one of her many lovers Fred Burnaby.While the first part of the book is interesting, I preferred the final portion of the book, an exploration of the author's grief following the death of his wife. For me, joining the two parts of the book seemed a stretch. I am afraid the connection is too tenuous for me. However the second portion of the book was very moving.

[opinionated_1 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Its amazing that the less Julian Barnes writes, the more he manages to fit it. A piece in 3 parts. In the first he talks about ballooning and uses it as a metaphor for love. In the second he talks about being grounded and wanting to soar. In the third he talks about descending to the depths and his grief at the quick death of his wife. The first 2 parts are interesting essays in themselves. The honest exploration of grief in the 3rd part is devastating and possibly the best thing he has written; its instantly recognisable to anyone who has lost anyone close and can be considered definitive. Superb and highly recommended

[michaelbartley · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

mr. barnes explored grief and love in short passages.

[hhornblower_3 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Wow. I have been a fan of Julian Barnes for over 20 years, but it is not until I read "Levels of Life" that I realized what an amazing writer he is. His prose is just stunning and incredibly heartfelt. Not to be flip, but I finished this book and felt as empty as he did/does after his wife passed away. Please don't think this book is depressing and therefore avoid it; it is certainly sad and an honest exploration of grief, but just a wonderful read. You share in the grief, but also share in his recovery.

[bibliobibuli_1 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Although I didn't really enjoy the first part of the book (about balloonists) so much, was deeply moved by Barnes account of the loss of his wife and his meditation on the nature of grief. It's raw and honest. This is a book I know I will return to and reread, and I would recommend it for anyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one, or does not know how to talk to someone who has. The writing (of course because this is Barnes) is beautiful, and the extended metaphor he uses (height, depth, falling) works very well and gives a unity to the book as a whole.I also listened to the audiobook - beautifully read by the author.

[edwinbcn · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Levels of life consists of a small collection on essays and prose (fiction) by Julian Barnes. The first two pieces deal with Barnes passions, France, photography and Ballooning. These parts are written with gusto, and they are exhilarating. The stories touch on many themes and motives that are known to have fascinated Barnes, and can be found throughout his life and work.These light-footed parts are juxtaposed by a very depressing description of the loss of his wife. The grief and sorrow is perhaps felt deeper as it follows the hilarious first part of the book. This volte also symbolises the change in the author's mood.An impressive Requiem for his wife.

[nmele_4 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Barnes lost his wife four years before this book was published, but his grief is evident, and his love still strong. I read this book at the same time as C.S. Lewis's "A Grief Observed" and found both authors, so dissimilar in some ways, untied in grief and equally insightful as they examined the death of a loved one and its impact.

[bcbookjunky · Calificación: 3 de 5 estrellas]

Julian Barnes became a widower in 2008 when his wife died of a brain tumour at age 68 . Pat Kavanagh was a brilliant and well respected literary agent. They had been together, off and on but mostly on, for over 30 years.
The first two sections of the book, on the early days of ballooning, are mildly interesting but puzzling. Where is this going? He begins to tie them all together in the last section, which is a memoir of his grief. Still, the links seem a bit tenuous and stretched.
This last section is touching, sad, profound. It did feel sort of intrusive, or voyeuristic somehow, to be given this access. It felt like he needed to write out his grief, as a therapy for himself, and as a way to continue but then in some way finally end, his post mortem conversation with his wife.
It is another addition to the sadly expanding genre of 'grief lit'.

[devilish2 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Julian Barnes explores balloonists encroaching on what was God's perceived space and its implications. He then neatly flows some of his observations through to his reaction to the death of his wife. He is pithy; at times funny, often moving, always erudite.

[pdcread · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

This is s strange book in some ways. There are three distinct sections; the first on hot air balloons; the Sin of Height. The second is on photography: On the Level. And the final one on his late wife: The Loss of Depth.

The first two sections make for interesting reading, nothing particularly profound, just a series of interesting anecdotes and facts on hot air balloons and photography in the formative years of those disciplines. At the end of these it was definitely a two star read, nicely written, but i couldn’t quote see the link.

The final section though is the foundation of the book, and the part that ties it all together. He writes about his late wife Pat Kavanagh who died in 2008. They had been married for 29 years, and even though he doesn’t say, I guess that they had been together for a period of time before that, meaning that he had known her for a significant period of his life. The details that he remembers about her are the little things, a shared moment, an oft repeated phrase, an endearing habit. But most of all he talks about her absence and the complete hole that her death has left in her life, how it is difficult to socialise as a widower with couples now, and how talking about his wife is now a taboo subject for people.

In hi moments of greatest anguish he contemplates suicide, even going as far to devise the preferred method, but is never brave enough to take that extra step. As he starts to circulate in social circles again he find he prefers theatres and in particular the opera as he can be social and be alone. He finds is hardest to deal with those who ask if he is not over it yet. As he says he never will be over it, as he remembers the last words, the final events, the anniversaries and other events.

It is heart rending in lots of ways, as he says grief is the negative image of love, and this raw account of his feelings gives you some insight into his love for her.

[annbury_1 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

As a fairly recent widow, I think that this book captures what grief is and how it feels better than anything else I have read. If you are looking for a way out of grief, or for a way to make it less painful, there is little comfort here. Barnes is an atheist who does not belief in an afterlife, so that escape route is closed off. Nor does he understate the solitariness of grief, the loneliness, and the impossibility of making sense of loss. But he does say what grief is like, and that is something to hold on to -- recognizing that one is not alone. I skimmed through the other essays, I am ashamed to say, being rather narrowly focussed these days.

[fliss88_1 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Interesting book and I enjoyed part three the best. In part three we get a glimpse into how the author coped after his wife of thirty years died, just 37 days after being diagnosed with 'something' - we aren’t told. How he reacted to the way his friends and acquaintances tried to give comfort was very honestly told and surprisingly insightful. There’s some excellent writing throughout the whole book but especially here. I shall be more careful in what I say to anyone grieving in future. Thank you Julian Barnes.

[rmckeown_9 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Julian Barnes won the 2011 Booker Prize for his splendid novel, The Sense of an Ending, which explores the memories a group of friends has upon the death of one of their number. Barnes returns to that theme in Levels of Life. In this essay, he explores the idea of two people coming together for the first time, and then how they are torn apart. But the story is much more complicated than that,The essay is divided into three parts – “The Sin of Height,” “On the Level,” and “The Loss of Depth.” These three parts revolve around historical figures who came together in unique ways. The first involves a photographer and the renowned 19th century actor, Sara Bernhardt. Barnes provides an outline of the history of ballooning and early photography. Colonel Fred Burnaby is an aeronautical enthusiast, and when he meets up with Sara Bernhardt, the world is changed. Part Two continues with Burnaby and Bernhardt and the sudden collapse of their affair. In Part Three, Barnes begins a lengthy meditation on life, love, and loss following the death of his wife, Pat Kavanagh, in 2008.Barnes’ prose is vivid and heart rending. He writes in part two, “We live on a flat, on the level, and yet – and so -- we aspire. Groundlings, we can sometimes reach as far as the gods. Some soar with art, others with religion; most with love. But when we soar, we can also crash. There are few soft landings. We may find ourselves bouncing across the ground with leg-fracturing force, dragged towards some foreign railway line. Every love story is a potential grief story. If not at first, then later. If not for one, then for the other. Sometimes, for both” (39). His language is quite poetic.In part three, he explores the meaning of loss. Following condolences by a friend, Barnes writes, “The same friend, four years later, said, ‘I resent the fact that she’s become part of the past.’ If this isn’t yet true for me, the grammar, like everything else, has begun the shift: she exists not really in the present, not wholly in the past, but in some intermediate tense, the past-present. Perhaps this is why I relish hearing even the slightest new thing about her: a previously unreported memory, a piece of advice she gave years ago, a flashback in ordinary animation. I take surrogate pleasure in her appearances in other people’s dreams – how she behaves and is dressed, what she eats, how close she is now to how she was then; also whether I am there with her. Such fugitive moments excite me, because they briefly re-anchor her in the present, rescue her from the past-present, and delay a little longer that inevitable slippage into the past historic” (117).He provides an interesting quote from Dr. Samuel Johnson who, “well understood the ‘tormenting and harassing want’ of grief; and he warned against isolationism and withdrawal. ‘An attempt to preserve life in a state of neutrality and indifference is unreasonable and vain. If by excluding joy we could shut out grief, the scheme would deserve very serious attention.’ But it doesn’t. Nor do extreme measures, like the attempt to ‘drag [the heart] by force into scenes of merriment’; or its opposite, the attempt ‘to soothe it into tranquility by making it acquainted with miseries more dreadful and afflictive.’ For Johnson, only work and time mitigate grief. ‘Sorrow is a kind of rust of the soul, which every new idea contributes in its passage to scour away’” (118).I found Julian Barnes essay, The Levels of Life comforting. I know I will face loss, and I will return to this interesting essay as an excellent companion through dark times. 5 stars--Jim, 12/7/15

[gendeg-1 · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Julian Barnes does melancholy and grief with such beautiful restraint, and not the kind that comes off as self-denying or repressed but, instead, feels sacred. There is distance and privacy. He writes: "I look at my key ring (which used to be hers): it holds only two keys, one to the front door of the house and one to the back gate of the cemetery.” Just a glimmer into his life is enough.Barnes never rips open his heart for us, and yet there's no doubt about his pain and the trauma of his wife's death. But for Barnes's meditative essay on his personal grief, what gives Levels of Life such power and incandescence for me is his weaving of history, fiction, and personal diary. Each mode by itself is solid, but together the writing becomes elevated, incendiary and moving. Flickers of historical account (the days of ballooning) are mixed in with personal anecdotes and reflections in this marvel of intertwined prose. And yet the writing never gets baggy. It is plain and never deflects or obfuscates. Barnes gives us an honest look at what grief does. Barnes also never breaches the privacy of his wife's memory and yet she hovers in the book, the driving force of his words.Barnes begins with the observation that “you put two things together that have not been put together before. And the world is changed.” Economic progress, artistic expression, scientific advancement, and even the heart and life of a man. The inverse of that: that those two things can be separated and the world can fall apart, is a shadow on the rest of the book, and there is a great, yawning journey before we reach that wrenching realization.

[koanmi · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Julian Barnes arbeitet hier mehr als Essay denn als Roman den Tod seiner Frau auf. Ein beeindruckender Text, der seine Anfänge bei den Aeronauten und Künstlern Ende des 18. Jahrhunderts nimmt, als über England und Frankreich die ersten Heißluftballone ein neues Zeitalter einläuteten. Der Text ist berührend, hervorragend geschrieben und sicher eine Hilfe (wenn auch kein Trost), wenn man selbst einen geliebten Menschen verloren hat.

[randymetcalfe · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

‘Uxorious,’ Julian Barnes insists in the final essay of this grief-bound trilogy, “describes — and always will, whatever future dictionaries may permit — a man who loves his wife.” Julian Barnes is such a man. The death of his wife, Pat Kavanagh, in 2008 plunges him into a grief that he is utterly unprepared for, though grief, he notes, like death, “is banal and unique.” In a sense, we learn nothing from the grief of others. Nevertheless, the uxorious Barnes seeks in Levels of Life to in some way memorialize the love of his life.Curiously (and not) the first two essays in this slim volume involve lighter than air flight, the antics of 19th century balloonists, and a love that was larger than life. This is exquisitely beautiful writing — Barnes at his best. Filled with erudition, lightly worn, but oh so artful in its representation. It is the kind of writing that gives one hope for creative non-fiction. If only it could always be like this. But perhaps that is asking too much. And certainly when Barnes turns to his particular case of personal grief in the third essay, the level of artfulness diminishes significantly. It is as though the closer he gets to himself, the less he is able to sustain those airy heights. Well, that’s grief all over, isn’t it?Warmly recommended.

[judithrs · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

Levels of Life. Julian Barnes. 2013. Two essays on ballooning and photography contain hints of what is to come in the last essay in which Barnes describes the death of his wife and his mourning. Barnes is an elegant writer and he puts his heart and his soul into his description of his grief over the death of his wife. There isn’t a throw-away line in his touching account. Barnes puts into words what it is like to lose “the heart of my life, the life of my heart,” and coins the perfect word, “griefstruck” for the condition. “And what is taken away is greater than the sum of what was there. This may not be mathematically possible; but it is emotionally possible.” Some of us will read this over and over and over.

[anne_green-1 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

Julian Barnes's short book "Levels of Life" is one that once finished, you feel you should read again, to properly appreciate. It's a slim volume of three essays on subjects that at first seem quite disparate until the tripartite structure is looked at more objectively and you can see how cleverly they all fit together. They are about, respectively, a 19th century French portrait photographer, a British balloonist who falls in love with Sarah Bernhardt and a memoir on grief; the author's own at the sudden death of his wife from cancer. Julian Barnes says so much in short, elegant phrases that are always, precisely right and that are breathtaking in their wisdom. For example “nature is so exact, it hurts exactly as much as it is worth, so in a way one relishes the pain, I think. If it didn't matter, it wouldn't matter.” “Every love story is a potential grief story", and about his wife - "the heart of my life; the life of my heart". Fewer better words have been written on the subject of grief and yet not one of them is sentimental. If I hadn''t already been a Barnes fan, I would have become one after reading this.

[edgoldberg · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

In Levels of Life, the latest work by Julian Barnes, he appropriately compares love to hot air ballooning. Both allow you to feel lighter than air, let you soar above the clouds, are exhilarating. However, with both endeavors comes the knowledge that you may, at any moment, crash and burn.And so he opens this book with the following: “You put together two things that have not been put together before. And the world is changed. People may not notice at the time, but that doesn’t matter. The world has been changed nonetheless.” He goes on in the first two parts, The Sin of Height and On the Level, to describe three people who had ballooning adventures, their lives, their loves, their connection: Colonel Fred Burnaby, Sarah Bernhardt and Felix Tournachon. (I felt compelled to look them up after reading about them.)“You put together two things that have not been put together before; and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.” Thus begins On the Level which describes just such stories…sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, as we can all attest.It is part three, The Loss of Depth, in which he finally discusses the devastating death of his wife. “You put together two people who have not been put together before. Sometimes it is like that first attempt to harness a hydrogen balloon to a fire balloon: do you prefer to burn and crash, or crash and burn? But sometimes it works, and something new is made, and the world is changed. Then, at some point, sooner or later, for this reason or that, one of them is taken away. And what is taken away is greater than the sum of what was there. This may not be mathematically possible; but it is emotionally possible.”There are some beautiful words in Levels of Life. I especially loved pages 34 and 35 (way too long to recreate here). I found the first two parts unbelievably interesting, poignant at times, heart wrenching at times. Unfortunately, part three, which should be the most heart wrenching I found to be too dense. All the parts are there: his grief, the way friends either avoid the subject or wear their grief on their sleeves, clichés of things getting better, easier, the loneliness. It’s all there and all deeply emotional, but it was not the part of the book that kept me reading. I know I’ll be in a minority. I know some readers may say I’m heartless. Some will say I’ve never been in that situation (which I haven’t) and when such time comes, it’ll mean more. And so it may.But I DO know sometimes “You put together two people who have not been put together before, and sometimes the world is changed and sometimes not….But sometimes something new is made; and then the world is changed. Together, in the first exultation, that first roaring sense of uplift, they are greater than their two separate selves. Together, they see further, and they see more clerarly.”

[saschenka-316193 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

The death of a loved one is the kind of pain everyone can understand and no one can explain to someone else. This peculiarity of grief is examined in Julian Barnes’ Levels of Life (2013). His slim, tightly woven book discusses the rise of ballooning, the complicated charm of Sarah Bernhardt, and the pitfalls of aerial photography in fin de siècle France and England as a means of exploring his grief over the death of his wife. Grief is like that: diverse topics that initially serve as distractions can bring us back to our own narrative; we seek to find, or impose, meaning at a time when life seems meaningless. Alternating between detached, wry commentary on the lives of others and an unsparing self-reflection, in his elegant and erudite style Barnes holds a mirror up to how we process loss. Barnes writes: “Every love story is a potential grief story.” Ruminations about loss are, by nature, meditations on love. After a 30-year marriage, his beloved wife’s sudden death leaves him feeling angry and adrift, but most of all, diminished: “what was taken away is greater than the sum of what was there. “The book is strongest when it fails to move the reader with a description of loss that doesn’t resonate, or with an assertion that doesn’t ring true. Amid moments of fulsome agreement (yes, that’s how it feels!), we then acknowledge our own, different experience of mourning, confirming Barnes’ observation that grief is at once both universal and singular.

[sebastianmiha-196615 · Calificación: 5 de 5 estrellas]

One of the bests of Julian Barnes!
Really enjoyed it although last part was a very sad one.

[ianmpindar · Calificación: 4 de 5 estrellas]

This is a book of two halves. The first is about the history of ballooning, the later is the moving account by Julian Barnes about the loss of his wife to cancer. It is worth reading for this alone, it is visceral and emotive as well as thought provoking. I really enjoyed his honest account, but the first half doesn’t really work. He has obviously used it as a metaphor, put two things together that should not be together, i.e. people in the air, but this does not parry with him and his wife, as they were happy together. The former half reads like a Bill Bryson book without the humour.The title of the book is a lovely, as he talks about his wife being buried and him alive, therefore on a different level in more ways than one.If you are not interested in ballooning, skip the first half and read the second.The Writing IMP