First, I will admit that I’m virtually the only person on the entire planet who did not adore Julian Barnes’ The Sense of an Ending. If it Christa hadn’t loved the crap out of this and begged someone to read it, I’d probably have skipped the whole thing. But her review intrigued me, and I dove in without reservation.

Oof. This is just not my kind of book. Some people really dig the thinky books, books where the main character rattles around pondering great questions. I am not those people. I like books where something happens, something besides the main character puttering about reminiscing and wondering about his life’s choices.

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