Quite frankly, I'd never even heard of Mordecai Richler until I read the autobiography of his British editor and publisher, Diana Athill. She predicted he'd become the grand old man of Canadian literature, and apparently he did. Lord only knows what I was busy doing at the time. In any event, I picked up a cheap kindle copy of "Barney's Version". It's a book that should be, in certain ways, familiar to fans of the mid-century New York golden age -- Roth, Bellow, Mailer, and all the rest -- but we're in Montreal, Canada if we're not hanging around the bohemian quarters of Paris after the war, and the titular Barney's a die-hard Canadiens fan. Still, the novel's prose is a joy: equal parts nostalgic, quick-witted and swinging. Also, the frequent footnotes, that undercut Barney's eponymous version, prove themselves to be a surprisingly effective comic and literary device.

Barney, it must be said, is a bit more of a jerk than most of the main characters created by the aforementioned authors: acerbic, moneyed, hard-drinking. But he's not without his charm, or his attractions, at least to his three wives, all of whom are rendered wonderfully, if not exactly fondly. "Barney's Version" is a bit more of a comedy than the sort of book the aforementioned Big Three usually produced: Richler seems willing much more willing to play his main character's eccentricities, terrible decisions, pet peeves, and misfortunes for genuine laughs than any of those authors would have. Filled with good bits and big characters and even an unsolved murder mystery, "Barney's Version" is, if absolutely nothing else, a lot of fun to read.

But it's more than fun, really. Barney's more-or-less past his prime when we meet him, and much of the book's plot describes his slow slide into irrelevance. Barney's a grouch, sure, but Richler still presents his halting progress toward death with genuine pathos. Whatever mistakes he has made in his life, Barney has made sure to surround himself with friends and family, most of whom stick by him as he prepares to leave this world. Barney, we learn, has grown rich off of connections with talents bigger than himself and middling, often state-supported Canadian television shows. But the author goes out of his way to show us that never losing track of the neighborhood kids he grew up with and showing undying loyalty to his kids -- even at their most problematic, were two things that Barney -- God rest his soul -- did right. Recommended. ( )

Barney Panofsky inizia a raccontarci la sua vita per difendersi da una serie di accuse lanciategli tramite il romanzo di quell’insopportabile di McIver. Solo che la vita di Barney è stata ed è un gran casino e Barney stesso fa fatica a uscire dal personaggio cialtrone che gli è stato cucito addosso: leggendo le sue stesse parole, non è difficile comprendere perché le persone credano al ritratto fattogli da McIver.

Barney è il tipo di persona che viene facile disprezzare: partito con l’idea di fare grandi cose, ha finito per perdersi nella mediocrità, nel disinteresse per le esigenze altrui e nel crogiolo delle storie che non sono finite come avrebbe voluto. Le prime pagine del romanzo non ci fanno per niente tifare per lui, almeno fino a quando non mettiamo insieme abbastanza elementi da vedere la sua vita per quello che è: il tentativo di non uscirne troppo male.

Barney pensa di avercela davvero messa tutta per fare qualcosa di buono: solo che un sacco di imprevisti si sono messi in mezzo, sbarrandogli il passo, facendolo inciampare, facendolo finire in vicoli ciechi e alla fine sai che c’è? Bisogna pur campare in qualche modo. E se un mediocre qualunque come McIver finisce per accusarti di aver assassinato il tuo migliore amico, l’unico della compagnia ad avere davvero il talento per rimanere nella storia, ma che se lo è perso nella dipendenza da droghe, be’, bisogna far qualcosa, no?

E allora Barney finisce per mostrarci che sotto quella cialtronaggine, quella sfacciataggine, c’è un lato tenero piuttosto malconcio dopo tutte le batoste della vita. Sta ancora lì, a cercare di mettere una pezza qua e una pezza là, ma resiste e si strugge per tutto quello che poteva essere. ( )

Go past the first part, which is often a bit too political and didascalic. Know your English and your American culture: you'll need it.

But I cannot help loving a book that makes me wanna try cognac.

Culturally voracious, adamant about his shortcomings, generous and uncompromising, if somewhat unbearable. "Now I know. The monster was me"

Splendid - but still inferior to the very similar "Till we have faces" and "L'età dell'oro". ( )

Loved it; especially the ending and how well it was set up early in the book.

Great first-person character expression! ( )

Richler layers on enough historical and cultural references (including Duddy Kravitz and St. Urbain Street) within the first five pages that his novel starts requiring footnotes. Actually, the footnotes are there by design, added by a fictional editor of this fictional memoir by a fictional character named Barney Panofsky, who is out to redeem his reputation in his twilight years after a long-time acquaintance slanders him in another autobiography.

Barney's memory is beginning to suffer, demonstrated as he stumbles a bit to recollect certain trivia while rambling all over his personal timeline through the early chapters. Eventually he settles down to follow something more chronological, interspersed with notes from his present, and the narrative becomes easier to follow through its three parts delineated by his marriages. Barney's dry, sarcastic wit does him service and lends some rich humour, though he also succumbs to lashing out in anger as he knows how to hold (and act upon) a grudge.

Barney's background is Jewish Quebecois (just like Richler's own), but many of his reflections are universal: the too swift passage of time, the unremitting memories, the odd ways in which people can come and go from one's life. Regrets and honest self-assessments mount. There is no clear takeaway at the end this story, not even in the epilogue, which is perhaps the best verisimilitude of all. Even if it was sometimes absurd, Barney's was not so bad as lives go, and it feels like ending enough. ( )