“History isn’t what happened. History is just what historians tell us.”
Barnes’ A History… was my first read of 2015; though should have been read much before that, seeing as I wrote a second year degree exam answer on it about 20 days later (sorry lecturers) (though I’m sure they’re not shocked by these kind of admissions by now, and pretty certain the majority of them did the same as undergrads, else they cannot be human). Knowing that I had to produce a scholarly essay on the text in an hour on the day of the exam, my first thought when getting to grips with it was “oooooooohhhhh shit”. This is a dense, intricate and complex novel that daunted me at first, though this kind of intricacy is what compels me to finish a book. I can’t wait to finish them so that loose ends can be tied and wrapped up neatly! In this case, I can’t say that ending the book is automatically satisfactory. There are a gazillion ‘ends’ presented, mostly because it is divided into ’10 1/2′ chapters as the title informs, but then each chapter is a different short story and each contains countless intertextual references; both to other stories that make up the novel and a plethora of separate works, many religious. Matching up these loose ends would be like sifting through a really large vat of spaghetti; so really, the reading of this novel doesn’t end with the last page, but with research in and around it if you really want a clear understanding… which I don’t even know if I still do!
Reading this novel is definitely enhanced by understanding the term and concept of historiography – the study of the study of history. A History… is a postmodern critique of the way in which we blindly accept the version of world history presented to us as fact. Before studying A History…, and historiographic theory (mostly Linda Hutcheon), I had never thought to question the glaringly obvious oversight that all written documents are filtered through the subjective accounts of one or a group of persons’ world view, and this too applies to what we know to be ‘history’. In short, what we know of the past is not ‘history’, or ‘the history of the world’ but indeed ‘a history’: one viewpoint which can never be confirmed or denied. The events are in the past, the people who experienced it dead. If they are alive, we take their account as the closest to objective truth we can, though it must be generally accepted that each person will tell even a slightly different account of the same event. Human condition of fallible memory and conditioned viewpoint therefore dictates that there can be no such thing as objective truth. These matters are discussed in the novel in Chapter 5: Shipwreck, Chapter 7: Three Simple Stories, and the ‘1/2’ chapter Parenthesis, between chapters 8 and 9, in which Barnes speaks directly to the reader as himself.
So far I’ve done this novel a massive injustice and just made it sound really heavy and boring! Be assured that the alternate history routine isn’t ‘shoved in your face’, or even obvious until well into the book. The reader (without any prior knowledge of the text) only begins to make connections and question the ‘motive’ of the novel probably at Parenthesis, in hindsight. The stories are at first presented as whimsical, exaggerated and highly fictional – though upon futher reading it’s made apparent that this is purposeful in order to draw attention to the inherently fictitious nature of recording history. Brief plot outlines of stories include Chapter 1: The Stowaway which is a subversive account of what ‘really’ happened on Noah’s Ark according to an illegitimate woodworm passenger; Chapter 2: The Visitors concerns a famous presenter/entertainer forced to become a terrorist negotiator on board a cruise ship; Chapter 8: Upstream! is made up of letters from an actor filming in a jungle and working with a native tribe (this chapter is of most interest to me – there is something Barnes is conveying here that I’m not getting!). For me, Chapter 10: The Dream cements A History... as a great novel, in its portrayal and critique of the 21st century consumerist heaven and the scepticism of an educated eye.
This is a fascinating and eye-opening novel which draws your attention to food for thought that you’d probably never dreamt of, which is one of the reasons I love to read. I’m excited to one day have time to read more Barnes novels, and in fact more novels by most authors I was introduced to whilst studying Postmodernism (Angela Carter, Don DeLillo) – definitely one of my favourite university modules so far.
[ As I’m mostly reading set texts for my degree, many of them will be discussed here – partly because writing about them breeds more thought/insight into them, and also because I’d love to help any struggling students to understand them a bit more, as others have done for me when frantically googling them! ]