Julian Barnes Books Novels & Stories

"I know. And for that, I am more sorry than I can ever say." The silence which followed was different now. The awkwardness was still there, but the hostility was not. The warmth of the fire, the great solid bulk of Jonah at his side, was slowly, kindly melting the permafrost of their past. Jonah, sensing the change, reached for the awkwardly wrapped gift. "May I?" Julian beckoned him in. There was a book on the table. A first edition of Joseph Conrad's The Mirror of the Sea, its cover worn leather but well cared for.

He casually pulled over a stool for me, and I sat down. The study's layout was simple. Aside from a desk and two chairs, there were only two bookshelves placed against the walls without windows on either side. Having nothing else to do, I began scanning the shelves to see what kinds of books there were. "Most of these are about finance. If you want to read something else, I can buy it for you," Julian said as he shut down his computer and walked over to me.

Just one more night. He picked a bookstore café this time. Said he wanted to show me his favorite reading book. It was intimate. Thoughtful. He even pulled a worn paperback of *The Secret History* off the shelf and said, “I think you’d love this.” I smiled, heart skipping. “I probably will.” We sipped coffee. Talked about poetry. I felt my walls thinning, cracking in ways I hadn’t prepared for. And then Julian’s voice dropped. Too calm. Too cold.

EMILY Frowning, I pulled out another book. And another. To my astonishment, the entire collection consisted of works on jurisprudence—legal philosophy, case law, historical decisions. I stared at them in disbelief. What on earth was Julian doing with such books? It made absolutely no sense. And there was certainly nothing there I wished to read anyway. Puzzled, I stepped back into the hallway and wandered into the living room. I stopped abruptly. Claire was sprawled across the couch, lazily flipping through a Sears catalog.

They did not have the pictures that people usually see on digital books. The Nora Vale Imprint series was a deal for Elena. It was something she had worked on for a time. Julian came out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee. He walked over to Elena. Put the cups down. Then he put his hand on her back. Julian used to be a stressed-out guy.. Now he was calm and relaxed. He had changed his family's business. Made it better.

I check on Julian one more time, he's sprawled across his bed, dinosaur tucked under his arm, peaceful in a way he hasn't been in weeks. Marcus did that in just a few hours. Sleep doesn't come easy, I lie in bed replaying every word, every look, every moment his hand touched mine… …feeling guilty but also feeling seen for the first time in years. Morning light wakes me early, Julian still sleeping, I'm making coffee when I hear something outside the door. I open it to find a basket sitting in the hallway, beautiful and wrapped with a bow. Inside are children's books about dinosaurs, gorgeous hardcover editions with detailed illustrations.

The roof was gone, allowing the stars to spill into the room, illuminating rows of water-damaged books. Julian sat by a small, smokeless fire, staring at the copper band on his finger. The silence of the continent was heavy. Without the hum of the grid or the constant ping of data, the memories of his life as a billionaire felt like a fever dream. "I keep waiting for the bill to come due," Julian whispered, his voice cracking in the stillness. "Every time I see a person thriving in these ruins, a part of me feels like a thief. I took their world away, Clara. I broke the civilization they knew."

***** Jules sat in front of the TV, a women’s talk show flickering on the screen, a book lay open on her lap. The book—a novel about strange bones found all over the world—bones from eras even older than her grandmother. The book was her dad's, and that was the one of the few things she still possessed of him. She wasn't a fan of books, not to talk of a book about something that never really added value to the world. But she needed the distraction—anything to keep her mind off Nolan… and the idea that he might, right this minute, be in some bridal shop testing dresses with Evie.

We didn't bother with the lights; I just willed the blue glow of my own energy to flare, illuminating rows and rows of rotting, leather-bound tomes. We spent hours maybe days tearing the place apart. I felt like I was losing my mind, flipping through pages of dead history, reading about wars that had happened before the first star was lit. We were looking for anything—a name, a weakness, a reason why these things were hiding on the other side of a door in my bedroom. "Here," Julian finally shouted, his voice cracking from lack of use. He pulled a massive, iron-bound volume from a bottom shelf. The cover was covered in a thick layer of soot, and the pages were stiff with age.

Five years later, the hidden library still breathes old paper and cedar. I discover Julian sunk into the worn leather armchair, the Rilke volume cracked open on his lap, the one where he scratched out impossible and inked keep going. His reading glasses balance on his nose, a fresh addition he grumbles about without pause. Silver threads through his temples now. Lines bracket his eyes that didn't exist when I collided with him. He lifts his head when I enter, and his January gray eyes fasten on me with the same intensity as the day I dropped his pen. "You're drilling holes into me."