In his new novel The Only Story Julian Barnes maintains that most of us have just one story that matters, only one worth telling. What is yours? Have you experienced it yet, and if so, were you aware at the time. Do you remember it from time to time, after years have passed? Do you smile, or does it fill you with overwhelming sadness? And if you remember it, can you really trust memory? You don’t choose, Barnes also says, who you love and how much you love them, because, then, it isn’t really love, is it? Paul, at least, wasn’t given that choice. One summer when he is a boy on the cusp of adulthood he falls in love with Susan, a married woman twice his age. His only story and memory of it marks his whole life. He wants to protect Susan from an abusive husband, take care of her and make her happy. But what if that is not enough? Can he save her from herself when things start to fall apart? And at what cost should he keep trying. How will he justify where he draws the line? Paul tells us his story as an adult, not sure at times if memory serves him right as he tries to answer these questions. I think I liked this book even before I read it and when I did, I loved it. The ease of the writing and the heaviness of what is written, immerses you, you don’t want to stop reading, but you do so, because you can’t help thinking of your own only story.