Julian Barnes

Born:
  • Leicester, England
Publishers:
Agents:

Biography

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Critical perspective

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Bibliography

The Man in the Red Coat
The Only Story
The Noise of Time
Keeping an Eye Open: Essays on Art
Levels of Life
The Sense of an Ending
Pulse
Nothing To Be Frightened Of
Arthur and George
The Lemon Table
The Pedant in the Kitchen
Mortification: Writers' Stories of their Public Shame
In the Land of Pain / Alphonse Daudet
Something to Declare: French Essays
Love, etc
England, England
Cross Channel
Letters from London 1990-95
The Porcupine
Talking It Over
A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters
Going to the Dogs
Staring at the Sun
Putting the Boot In
Flaubert's Parrot
Before She Met Me
Fiddle City
Metroland
Duffy

Awards

2021
Jerusalem Prize
2016
Siegfried Lenz Prize
2015
Zinklar Award
2013
Sunday Times Award for Literary Excellence
2011
Costa Novel Award
2011
David Cohen British Literature Prize
2011
Galaxy National Book Awards Waterstone's UK Author of the Year
2011
Man Booker Prize for Fiction
2007
International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award
2006
British Book Awards Best Read of the Year
2006
Commonwealth Writers Prize (Eurasia Region, Best Book)
2004
Austrian State Prize for European Literature
2004
Commandeur de l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres
1995
Officier de l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres (France)
1993
Shakespeare Prize (Germany)
1992
Prix Fémina Etranger (France)
1988
Chevalier de l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres (France)
1988
Premio Grinzane Cavour (Italy)
1987
Gutenberg Prize (France)
1986
E. M. Forster Award
1986
Prix Médicis (France)
1985
Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize
1981
Somerset Maugham Award

Author statement

"Writers should have the highest ambition: not just for themselves, but for the form they work in. Flaubert once rebuked Louise Colet for having the love of art yet lacking 'the religion of art': she fancied its rituals, the vestments and the incense, but did not finally believe in its revealed truths. I am a writer for an accumulation of lesser reasons (love of words, fear of death, hope of fame, delight in creation, distaste for office hours) and for one presiding major reason: because I believe that the best art tells the most truth about life. Listen to the competing lies: to the tatty rhetoric of politics, the false promises of religion, the contaminated voices of television and journalism. Whereas the novel tells the beautiful, shapely lies which enclose hard, exact truth. This is its paradox, its grandeur, its seductive dangerousness. Two famous deaths have been intermittently proclaimed for some time now: the death of God and the death of the novel. Both are exaggerated. And since God was one of the fictional impulse's earliest and finest creations, I'll bet on the novel - in however mutated a version - to outlast even God."