Changing My Mind
Can’t make up its mind about whether it’s a single piece or, as it appears to be, a loosely connected series of ruminations ... I’d much rather he’d let that grumpy citizen do some loudly intemperate repining (speaking of lovely old words) but Barnes is the writer he is, and he shouldn’t have to impersonate a crank or an Audenesque eccentric for my entertainment.
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Brisk ... It feels right for Barnes to approach his topic through autobiography, in the first person ... Barnes’s somewhat sheepish admission that he has never really changed his mind about politics seems, if not entirely admirable, then not all bad. Where the greater risk is that we’ll come to accept the unacceptable, it’s just as well to be dogmatic.
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The broadcast conceit doesn’t translate well on the page, leaving the author exposed ... On the theme of politics, Barnes seems to be on the defensive ... Ultimately it is not just these niggles of inconsistency, but the sense of writing forced to fit a frame that is altogether too neat that left me cold. Who knows, though – a future reread might do the trick. Perhaps when I reach his age, in half a century, I’ll have changed my mind too.
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