The job of the critic in many ways is an easy one. One reads, one reviews; there really is not much more to it. However, it is easy to get lazy, just analyze the language, write a paragraph on the structure, do some research on the author, etc. Reviews can become very rote. It can be hard to remember that a book must first and foremost appeal to the reader. Julian Barnes' The Sense of an Ending reminded me of this, unfortunately to its disadvantage. The Sense of an Ending, written in 2011 and the winner of the Man Booker Prize, contains an interesting premise; in the novella's first part, a group of boys go through young adult life, as told by the main character Tony. They bumble through their teenage years, meeting girls and causing mischief, leaving traces of their memories scattered through their adventures. However, as time goes by and old faces reemerge in his life, a now sixty-year-old Tony has to reflect on these days with a changed perspective, and "[begins] to understand that the reward of merit is not life's business. That's it. The plot is an unorthodox treatment on the tradition coming-of-age story. There's a known formula; x likes y, x loves y, y loves x, twist, end, profit. You don't see any of this drab, overused plot in The Sense of an Ending. The novella, unlike many books that top the bestseller list, feels like it was written for the sake of itself. Tony, the main character and protagonist, is a pretentious young man who gradually matures into a regretful old man who must look back on his earlier days. As a boy he has many cliquish interactions with his group, nearly speaking a separate language with them, throwing around quips like "that's philosophically self-evident." Adrian, the mysterious new member, and as it turns out, alpha-male, of Tony's group, is not like the rest of the boys. He is brilliant yet completely uninterested in their antics. Adrian does not necessarily relate to all of the boys "without