Grief seems at first to destroy not just all patterns, but also to destroy a belief that a pattern exists.
Interpretation
Grief can profoundly alter our understanding of the world and challenge our beliefs about order and meaning.
In this quote, Julian Barnes reflects on the disorienting effects of grief. He suggests that when we experience profound loss, it can feel as though our previous understanding of life, with its patterns and meaning, is shattered. This disruption can lead us to question whether any order or coherence exists in our reality, revealing how deeply grief can affect our mental and emotional frameworks.
In practice
In a eulogy, one might say, 'As Julian Barnes noted, grief can shatter our sense of patterns in life, reminding us of the fragility of our experiences.'
(on grief) And you do come out of it, that’s true. After a year, after five. But you don’t come out of it like a train coming out of a tunnel, bursting through the downs into sunshine and that swift, rattling descent to the Channel; you come out of it as a gull comes out of an oil-slick. You are tarred and feathered for life.
Is despair wrong? Isn’t it the natural condition of life after a certain age? … After a number of events, what is there left but repetition and diminishment? Who wants to go on living? The eccentric, the religious, the artistic (sometimes); those with a false sense of their own worth. Soft cheeses collapse; firm cheeses endurate. Both go mouldy.
It took me some years to clear my head of what Paris wanted me to admire about it, and to notice what I preferred instead. Not power-ridden monuments, but individual buildings which tell a quieter story: the artist's studio, or the Belle Epoque house built by a forgotten financier for a just-remembered courtesan.
But I’ve been turning over in my mind the question of nostalgia, and whether I suffer from it. I certainly don’t get soggy at the memory of some childhood knickknack; nor do I want to deceive myself sentimentally about something that wasn’t even true at the time—love of the old school, and so on. But if nostalgia means the powerful recollection of strong emotions—and a regret that such feelings are no longer present in our lives—then I plead guilty.
And that's a life, isn't it? Some achievements and some disappointments. It's been interesting to me, though I wouldn't complain or be amazed if others found it less so. Maybe, in a way, Adrian knew what he was doing. Not that I would have missed my own life for anything, you understand. [pp.60-61]
Every love story is a potential grief story.
I know that every time I list something that I am, I am potentially alienating a whole group of people. Publicists and managers will encourage you not to say what political party you belong to, what you eat, what you don't eat, who you sleep with and all that stuff.
He saw all these forms and faces in a thousand relationships become newly born. Each one was mortal, a passionate, painful example of all that is transitory. Yet none of them died, they only changed, were always reborn, continually had a new face: only time stood between one face and another.
He's arm'd without that's innocent within; _x000D_ Be this thy Screen, and this thy Wall of Brass.
Being, belief and reason are pure relations, which cannot be dealt with absolutely, and are not things but pure scholastic concepts, signs for understanding, not for worshipping, aids to awaken our attention, not to fetter it.
Reality, however utopian, is something from which people feel the need of taking pretty frequent holidays.
To people like me, educated in post-war Britain, free speech has been a firm premise of the British way of life.
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