Elizabeth Finch

Written by Julian Barnes

Narrated by Justin Avoth

From the award-winning novelist, a magnetic tale that centers on the presence of a vivid and particular woman, whose loss becomes the occasion for a man’s deeper examination of love, friendship and biography

This beautiful, spare novel of platonic unrequited love springs into being around the singular character of the stoic, exacting Professor Elizabeth Finch. Neil, the narrator, takes her class “Culture and Civilisation,” taught not for undergraduates but for adults
of all ages; we are drawn into his intellectual crush on this withholding yet commanding woman. While other personal relationships and even his family drift from Neil’s grasp, Elizabeth’s application of her material to the matter of daily living remains important
to him, even after her death, in a way that nothing else does. In Elizabeth Finch, we are treated to everything we cherish in Barnes: his eye for the unorthodox forms love can take between two people, a compelling swerve into nonfictional
material (this time, through Neil’s obsessive study of Julian the Apostate, following notes Elizabeth left for him to discover after her death), and the forcefully moving undercurrent of history, and biography especially, as nourishment and guide in our current lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Recorded Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781705061152

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.

Reviews for Elizabeth Finch

[Michael Connor · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A FINE NOVEL,
enhanced by a spot-on reading performance, “Elizabeth Finch” reminds me of Joseph Conrad at his best. A narrator with a distinctive voice wrestles with another being’s complexity and warts with great sympathy and love. Quite fine.

[Donna Yancey · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I thought it was boring. I gleaned a little info out of it, but really not much.

[maryreinert · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I loved "Sense of an Ending" but this is just more of a exposition on the life of the Emperor Julian who was the last pagan Roman emperor.Told from the viewpoint of an adult student of Elizabeth Finch, a teacher of (I suppose) philosophy and the author's extreme infatuation with her. I weeded through most of it.

[maggieflo_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed the first part of this story, skipped most of the middle because it was dreadful and skimmed the last part.The narrator is a London guy in his thirties who takes a course from a lecturer called Elizabeth Finch (EF). She is a non conventional instructor and expects her students to think for themselves and develop their own conclusions rather than her feeding them her own ideas.Neil is fascinated by her type, style, aloneness, intelligence, beauty, mystery and demeanour. For years they would meet for lunch on a regular basis and he would try to get to know her more…impossible taskShe dies and she leaves Neil her entire collection of notes. He makes an attempt to understand her fascination/fixation on Julian the Apostate. Regular lunches with EF’s brother Chris do not uncover any family secrets or rationale for EF’s mystique.The chapters on Julian the Apostate is where I left off as I had no interest in this historical figure and why EF chose him as a project.Skimming through the final chapters reveals little about EF and made me think this whole book was a farce.

[randymetcalfe · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Elizabeth Finch is a charismatic professor, at least for some. At some point in his mid-thirties, Neil finds himself in her course on Culture and Civilization. He is smitten by her authority and pedagogical stance. Is he in love with her? Certainly in some respects. And though he fails to complete his large assignment in the course, he establishes a relationship with EF that sees them sporadically taking lunch together in London over the next twenty years. But the friendship never progresses beyond the mid-day meal. So when Neil finds himself bequeathed Elizabeth Finch’s library and papers on her death, he is bemused. As is the reader. But the project he embarks upon in response – attempting to canvas the impact and influence of Julian the Apostate on western thought – is equally baffling. In some sense he believes that this is a project that EF would have wanted him to complete. But he has as much difficulty coming to know and understand the historic Julian as he does the enigmatic Elizabeth Finch or, perhaps inevitably, himself.Novels which present subjective and fragmented accounts of one character by another are often a means to reveal the narrator’s character by reflection. Here, not so much. We know little enough about Elizabethan Finch and even less about Neil. The extensive regurgitation of research into Julian the Apostate is both unedifying and uninteresting. It fails to move along the plot, such as it is, or expand upon aspects of Neil’s character. I can’t help wondering what Julian Barnes was thinking as he wrote page after page on this subject. I can only guess that it held some fascination for him that he felt was so obvious he needn’t pass it on to his reader. Alas.Barnes is a fine writer, and perhaps I’ve missed something significant in this novel, but I can’t honestly recommend it.

[icolford · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

In Elizabeth Finch, Julian Barnes has created a singular character, a woman who dictates and controls the terms by which she shall be regarded. The novel is narrated by Neil, in his thirties and at something of a loose end when, in Part One, he signs up for an adult education course on Culture and Civilization. The instructor is Elizabeth Finch, a stolidly unfashionable academic of indeterminate age—physically unremarkable—indeed, almost forgettable—who projects an air of unflappable confidence when speaking to her students. Neil, who harbours intellectual ambitions but lacks the grit and resolve to get things done (he refers to himself the “king of unfinished projects”), is deeply impressed with Finch’s approach to lecturing and the way she commands the class and encourages students to think for themselves. He also admires her mind, the way she collects and retains facts and theories and transmutes it all into wisdom. Neil wants to impress her, but at the same time is not afraid to admit he finds her intimidating. But, even more than this, he is fascinated by the how she is able to direct the conversation in order to reveal as little of herself as possible. By the end of the class, which he feels has enriched his life in ways he can hardly express, he pursues a deeper connection, arranging with her to meet for occasional lunches. By this means, over many years, the two keep up with each other’s lives, though Finch remains as secretive as ever. Then Elizabeth dies, prematurely from cancer, and Neil is shocked to find himself named executor of her papers and library. Part Two summarizes Neil’s writings based on Finch’s notebooks, which contain her jottings on topics relating to Greco-Roman and Christian philosophies, focusing in particular on how human history has been influenced by the beliefs and arguments of Julian the Apostate (331-363), the last pagan Roman Emperor prior to the ascendance of Christianity. In Part Three, more of Finch’s and Neil’s lives are revealed, though the intimate details might come too late for readers left perplexed and frustrated by the dense history lesson of Part Two. As Neil contemplates the notion of writing about Elizabeth Finch, he embarks on a mission of independent research, going so far as to reach out to Anna, a former classmate who, he discovers, has also kept in touch with Finch over the years. The novel, Elizabeth Finch—though an exquisitely written meditation on the chaos of modern life—is something of a muddle. Neil is personally and intellectually unexceptional. His observations are largely mundane and his fascination with his former teacher does not always seem warranted—though it does fill a gap in his own life. Is Barnes suggesting that humanity is approaching a watershed moment, comparable to that represented by Julian’s death on the battlefield in 363? Perhaps. But Elizabeth Finch, much like the title character, is a novel that does not relinquish its mysteries willingly.

[clara53_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

"It's an odd thing, life, don't you find?" (says one minor character - simply and honestly)... In a way, repeating my favorite phrase by George Eliot ("Ah, there is enormous patience wanted with the way of the world"). Truly marvelous writing! Made me think of so many things. And rethink some too! Plus, apart from that, it made me look up a thing or two from history, making it a learning process. It's a platonic love story, a very unusual one, featuring frank vulnerability of the narrator, his intermittent awe ("the shimmer of her phrasing, the lustre of her brain") and confusion and uncertainty, combined with a history lesson - all in a terrifically worded piece of writing.And here's another quote which pretty much sums up many things in this novel:"Some things are up to us and some are not up to us. Our opinions are up to us, and our impulses, desires, aversions - in short, whatever is our own doing. Our bodies are not up to us, nor are our possessions, our reputations, or our public offices, or, that is, whatever is not our doing. The things that are up to us are by nature free, unhindered, and unimpeded, the things that are not up to us are weak, enslaved, hindered, not our own."

[ccayne_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed the first and last sections. He lost me in the middle when I learned more than I ever imagined about Emperor Julian.

[castlelass · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Protagonist Neil is one of Professor Elizabeth Finch’s students in her adult Culture and Civilisation class. Neil admires her teaching methods and ability to stimulate his love of learning. She has authored two lesser-known academic books. Neil invites EF (as he calls her) to lunch with him after finishing the class, and these friendly lunches continue for years. Eventually, Neil has the opportunity to study her personal papers, journals, and writings about Julian the Apostate. He meets her brother. He ponders what to do with her research. He discovers he did not know her as well as he thought.

I enjoyed the first and last parts of this book, especially the bits about EF’s life, and the platonic relationship between the teacher and her former student. It takes off in a very odd direction in the middle section, with a long and tedious digression into the life of Julian the Apostate. It is hard to say what is accomplished by this discourse on Romans and early Christianity. Perhaps it serves as an example of the teacher’s impact on the student? As Neil says, "She asked a tantalizingly easy question which set you off on a train of thought.” It is a cerebral book. I think if the storyline had continued to follow the characters, and shortened the digression, I would have enjoyed it more.

[pomo58 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Elizabeth Finch is typical Julian Barnes in the sense that whatever, and how much, the reader brings to the book will likely determine how much they like it. It isn't a hierarchical thing, not a case of "getting it or not getting it," but rather simply whether the dynamic between the reader and the novel is a positive one for that reader. Which is to say that even more than most novels, this will be hit or miss.My comment about the "it" that many people refer to is, for me, a bit of a dodge when it is used. Few books, if any, have one singular "it." This one has more than most. I got several "its" out of the book while some others may get none. Since meaning-making is a function of both the writer and the reader, there doesn't have to be a failure on either part for the book not to work, it is simply the dynamic between the two.I found the idea of a nontraditional student having strong feelings for a particularly effective, for them, teacher relatable. Trying to figure out those feelings also makes sense, especially for someone like Neil who doesn't have a strong background in relationships: platonic, intimate, or otherwise. I also don't find the idea of loving a teacher who impacts your life as creepy. In fact, I find those who do to be far more creepy. They met twice a year for lunch, so while the novel, which focuses on the relationship, makes it sound all-consuming and obsessional, it isn't really that bad. He never betrayed the privacy he believed she wanted, never went creeping behind her to discover more. He went on about his life, changed because of her, but not stalking her or anything that would truly be creepy.As for reading the novel, it is in three parts, of which the second is the one that seems, at first, out of place. I certainly thought so. But as I was reading it, and largely because I kept wondering why it was here, I started seeing connections. Back to EF herself, in how Neil viewed EF after her death, and once I read part three even to those revelations. So I would have to say that, for me, the section worked well within the bigger picture even if it wasn't the most enjoyable to read. It is also in this section where I think so many connections can be made outside the novel, to our world today and even to our own lives, or at least mine.Like life, this novel is full of flawed characters. Kinda funny how we hate the perfect characters in books because they aren't realistic enough, yet criticize flawed characters because they are in fact realistic. Questionable decisions, somewhat flawed reasoning, even just plain irritating. These things are, depending on who one asks, descriptive of all of us whether we want to admit it or not. I can't imagine a novel without these kinds of characters, so why does their inclusion become the issue with some readers?Admittedly I work harder to try to make a novel work for me rather than lament what it isn't and wallow in that misplaced expectation. This is one of those that required that effort and, fortunately, I was rewarded for it. That isn't always the case. Elizabeth Finch the character will stay with me, or rather, Neil's view of her will. Her almost cliche-ish response to some situations look at first like simplistic but empty comments. Maybe many are, but many warrant more consideration. Nuance makes many of them far more pointed than they seem, while looking for where they don't fit gives one opportunity to question why they often go unquestioned. Those thoughts and where they led me, and continue to lead me, will also stay with me.In recommending this book to friends and family, I am being very sure to let them know it won't read like a standard novel, it isn't action-packed, there aren't really any aha moments. Or rather, those moments come from your interaction with it rather than from a particular moment in the book. There is a historical essay in the middle. The writing is quite good and, if you happen to find your way into the story, you may discover that part of the enjoyment is forming your own responses to what is written. If you want a basic "this then that" story, find something else, you may not enjoy this one. If you feel like working with Barnes' writing to create something for yourself, you could be richly rewarded. Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley.

[oldblack-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This seems to be not so much a story about Elizabeth Finch as a review of the life of the Roman emperor Julian. Quite interesting, but not a book I would have chosen if I had known more about it.

[juliestielstra · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I come to this novel, by one of my favorite writers, as a student who never got through a year of school from about fifth grade on without having a crush on some teacher. All without any harm done, I hasten to say. I was willing to be engaged by this odd, dry sort-of memoirish narrative of a middle-aged man with a serious crush on his teacher. Plus I know that Julian Barnes will always feed me some unexpected observation, revelation, or just a choice of words that will startle and delight me. No disappointment here: by page 9, I had to look up the lovely word “refulgent.” Showoff. Thirty-something narrator Neil takes an adult education class in “Culture and Civilisation,” taught by the eponymous Elizabeth Finch. Neil presumes she is an “independent scholar,” but Neil presumes a lot. There is much distancing, projection, guesswork: “If you had dared to ask [her],” “of course, she would have said…,” “who would dare to speak?” Barnes tries to “show” us EF, as he calls her, with details of her shoes, stockings (“you couldn’t imagine her in beachwear,” though clearly he has tried), jewelry, haircut, the existence of a West London apartment in which he “never set foot”; the way she smokes, and so on. She speaks entirely without notes, in fully-thought-out paragraphs, and is prone to aphoristic pronouncements, like “artifice is not incompatible with truth,” or “getting our history wrong is part of being a nation.” Neil is completely smitten. After the course ends, Neil manages to have lunch with EF a couple times a year – entirely on her terms, dictating place, time, dishes, and she always pays – until she dies. It was observed that her self-sufficiency was such that people were often less central to her life than they believed, or more so. She leaves Neil all her papers and books in her will – was he one of the more or less central people? Hard to say. And of course, he does “set foot” in the West London flat. Should he attempt a biography? An edition of her writings? A cryptic comment in a notebook: “J – dead at thirty-one,” gets him wondering who that might refer to… a lover? I’m thinking: Neil! Jesus, of course! But it sends Neil down a rabbit highway to construct a biography of Julian the Apostate, a historical figure of significance to EF. Here's where the story either gets interesting, or goes off the rails. The second portion of the book is Neil’s Julian essay. It is long. It is clumsy – wandering here and there through centuries and faiths. Julian was a Roman emperor who tried to roll back the tide of Christianity and restore religious freedom and respect for the old “pagan” beliefs – but died (at thirty-one) in one of the empire’s interminable wars before he got anywhere. I quite liked him. Disloyally, I suspect Julian Barnes had gotten interested in his Apostate namesake, and that this novel was a frame (or an excuse) to make some practical use of it. At one point, Neil comments: “It is as if Julian imagined that he could win over the population by humorous yet sophisticated complaint, plus a public examination of his own character.” Julian Barnes, I see what you’ve done there. It’s also an opportunity for Barnes to muse – aptly, in this moment of current affairs and politics – on the very deep trouble arising from mixing government with religion, or, as he puts it: “the two disasters of early Christian history were the imposition of monotheism and the fusing by Constantine of Church and State.” Not to mention the historical fact that “more Christians were put to death in a single year of the Christian Empire than had been executed in three centuries of pagan dominion.”In the third section, Neil returns to the present, connecting with EF’s brother, and a former classmate (with whom he had had a desultory affair). We learn, belatedly, about “The Shaming,” where the tabloid press goes crazy over a rare public talk given by EF and her rather mild criticism of monotheism, a scenario that strains credulity for a character whose entire life has been very much less than public. Neil’s former lover mentions going swimming regularly with EF – someone has seen her in “beachwear.” And then… it just ends.So, I got what I expect from Julian Barnes: erudition, self-depreciating humor, graceful writing. I got some wry smiles of my own, remembering my own strangely non-charismatic medieval history professor who enchanted me with his ninety-minute no-notes lectures. But something has gone wrong with the characters. Neil – unreliable and withholding as a narrator – can only describe EF as he sees her, and since she is also a closed, withholding personality, neither one of them comes to life. So the reader – even a sympathetic one like me – struggles to connect with, or even picture, them. Perhaps it’s a bit of a feat for Julian Barnes to deliberately produce a rough, almost amateurish historical bio (when I know how good he is – see The Man in the Red Coat) as a product of his amateurish character. But I rather wish he’d just gone ahead and written a historical novel – or a straight bio - of his own about the Apostate. Nevertheless, three cheers and thanks to the teachers who inspired us. Most of us never really got to know them either, did we? And, as EF observes – on different pages: “Getting our history wrong is part of being a nation…a family… a religion… a person.”*Thanks to NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review*