Blogs don't burn

I read this beautiful, beautiful book on the train from Marburg to Bremen today. I don’t want to give anything away, because I hope that anyone reading this who has not already read Sense of an Ending will go do so, because it is legitimately that worthwhile of a piece of fiction (and only 134 pages, so), and so I will just say that the book juxtaposes the life of a boy in an English high school and university—or, rather, the life he thinks he’ll lead—with that of his older, narratorial self—and the life he thinks he’s lead.

I don’t know if I found this book so touching because I am 22, the age upon which a good part of the book is spent reflecting, and thus felt like a very wise person, who at once knew and did not know me, was giving me some deep insight via fiction, or if something about it reminded me of some life I never really led, or if it is just a beautiful book objectively. But I know that Sense of an Ending gave me a sense of beginning to understand something (I don’t know what, not just yet) a little more fully.