The Noise of Time

A short and powerful novel, written in quite an abrupt form, which is perhaps deliberately intentional, aiming to induce discomfort in the reader. It is perhaps a testament to the writing skills of Barnes that he is able to pack so much into such a slim volume, perhaps not dissimilar to Colm Toibin's fictional biography of Henry James (The Master). Here Barnes tackles that of the Russian composer Shostakovich. While it is evident that he (the composer) is an honourable man, he inevitably suffers a crisis of conscience under the strictures imposed by Communist Russia. It is here that Barnes's writing becomes most powerful, highlighting how the effective working mechanisms of a powerful totalitarian state can grind individuals down, not only morally but also physically. (Shostakovich describes himself like a hunchback, crushed both metaphorically and literally by the noise of time). The constant paranoia and fear induced by such a regime must have been draining, and Barnes is good at detailing the sacrifices necessary — effectively trading survival for hypocrisy. This is when tragedy becomes farce (and Barnes does well linking in Shakespeare here). Shostakovich seeks hope in his music, but even here his relation to it changes (or is forced to). At least there are his memories, even if there is still a curse attached to all that has come before and perhaps been necessarily sacrificed. 8/10.

By Julian Barnes