The Secret Scripture

by Sebastian Barry

The last century being ‘my’ century, since I was fifty-five when it turned, and it is difficult wholly to give one’s heart and attention to a new century at that age. Or so I found. And find. Nearly sixty-five now, alas.

We have enough problems with linear narrative and true memory.

But I am beginning to wonder strongly what is the nature of history. Is it only memory in decent sentences, and if so, how reliable is it? I would suggest, not very.