On yet another level, England, England is a novel of ideas — mainly ideas that

correspond to the criticism of society voiced by French philosophers of the second half
of the 20th century. The seminal work in this respect is Jean Baudrillard's (b.1929)
L'échange symbolique et la mort (1976), in which Baudrillard claims that in the course
of the 20th century reality has been superseded by "simulacra", by representations of the
original which — in a world where technology has developed the means to replicate
each and everything, including works of art (cf. Walter Benjamin's 1936 essay "Das
Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner technischen Reproduzierbarkeit") and humans (by means
of cloning) — acquire an independent and increasingly higher status than the original:
because they are safer, easier to handle, more cost-effective, ubiquitous and thus more
easily accessible, renewable, and predictable. (Cf. "postmodernism" and also U.S.
sociologist George Ritzer's "McDonaldization" thesis of the 1990s, in particular his
discussion of tourism).

England the theme park

Andrew Marr reviews England, England by Julian Barnes (Jonathan Cape)

hat England has become a theme-park nation is a chattering-class cliché. It is also at

least partly true. There is no English crisis, but there is a problem. In England, everything
becomes a tradition, and that includes the confection of tradition.

But the quantity of contemporary repackaging is remarkable. It wraps itself around us all, like
gaudy, omnipresent plastic - knightly tournaments, Robin Hood rambles, Battle of Britain days,
Shakespeare’s Globe. This, of course is hardly unique to England. Other countries have theme
parks. But as any visitor to London will confirm, England itself can feel like one.

Yet the English passion for dressing up is matched by growing unease about nationhood. In his
new novel, a frontrunner for this year’s Booker Prize, Julian Barnes has taken this spirit of the
time and further distilled it into one of the oddest books you are likely to read this year.
It’s what they call a romp, but it is written in anger. There is a short first section, exquisitely
done, about a girl’s damaged childhood. There is a longer central satire in which a tycoon takes
over the Isle of Wight and turns it into a giant theme park of English history. Then there is a brief
fantasy about England in retreat, a place of organic farms and the occasional steam
locomotive.

The tone alters, disturbingly, from one section to the next. The central part is more cartoon-like,
more Tom Sharpeish, than anything Barnes has done before. The colours are primary, the
outlines crude, the jokes obvious.

For people who like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing they like: the Isle of Wight’s
buildings are mostly demolished, then it gets a fake Parliament, peasants, fake London fog, Di’s
grave, Stonehenge, and so on. It is "everything you imagined England to be, but more
convenient, cleaner, friendlier, and more efficient". It is also much more popular.

The heritage industry is an easy target. Barnes doesn’t miss, though it was mildly amusing to
read the breathless promise on the back of my proof copy: "Huge full colour advertising ...
Splendid mobiles of the island ... 18-copy dump-bin and header ... Author tour." Next stop, the
Julian Barnes Experience?

By the final section, the tone has shifted again. Old England suffers economic collapse. The
Scots buy the northern counties and the Welsh, Shropshire and Herefordshire. Scheming
Europeans isolate England from the continent. By which time, I felt, Barnes’s satire had curdled
into an exhibition of self-pity. Then the English turn ruralist, and the mood changes again.

Barnes’s deep theme is the search for authenticity. What is real? Is it what we think we know of
our history, what we think we remember? A world of mimicry and falsity threatens life itself,
Barnes argues: it cuts away at our capacity for seriousness.

In a key passage, one character explodes: "Look what’s happened to Old England. It stopped
believing in things ... it lost seriousness." The search for authenticity, in an increasingly unreal
world, is worth it. It’s the search for life itself.

Nothing could be odder than such a cartoonish romp whose real concern is seriousness. But
this is both ambitious and serious - real, if you like. Dive at those dump-bins.

ENGLISHNESS, A RECOMMENDED READING

LIST
Introduction
What does it mean to be English – not British, but specifically English – and why
should it matter? What national and cultural qualities does the word identify, and what
has it meant in the past? Perhaps most importantly, what is the future of Englishness,
and what is the future of England?

These are pressing cultural issues, and many literary critics, historians, and writers have
recently turned their attention to such questions. They are also concerns that have a long
history in English Literature, and have been debated and discussed for centuries. This
course offers an introduction to Englishness, both its history and its literature, and
presents a diverse (and ambitious) variety of material from the twelfth century to the
present day. It gives a broad historical overview of certain English figures, such as King
Arthur and Robin Hood, develops certain themes that characterize English identity – the
Gothic, Landscape, Empire, Temper – and examines the literature of historical events
such as the First and Second World Wars. The course argues that historically,
Englishness has been characterized by mongrelism, hybridity, the spirit of compromise
and adaptation, and linguistic capaciousness and absorption, and endeavours to explain
why certain attitudes persist and how others change, and ultimately what constitutes
Englishness.