Here We Are at the End
by Sara Barnard
People have been prophesying the end of the world for millennia, it seems. But what if there were irrefutable evidence of a comet set to annihilate Europe? That's the premise for Sara Barnard's gripping adult debut, Here We Are at the End, in which wedding guests on a rustic Tuscan island learn of impending doom and must ponder how to spend their final days. With poignancy and gentle humor, the novel traces a dozen characters' decisions and emotions. On the final day, a celebration does indeed take place, affirming the primacy of love and defying mortality.
Grace and Ben, the affianced couple, were born on the same day 32 years ago. When they met in a London pub, the coincidence got them talking and a relationship blossomed, leading to this lavish destination wedding weekend on Isola di Grazia. But someone else entered the solar system 32 years ago: "Martha," as the comet is called. It's been visible for several years, spawning rumors, but anyone who believed it was a threat--like Grace's younger brother, Bobby--was treated as a crackpot conspiracy theorist. The day before the wedding, however, a meteor destroys Banff, closing international airspace. It's a nightmare for Bridezilla Grace, who's horrified that Ben's parents won't make it to the wedding: " 'Oh my God,' she says. 'They're going to miss our wedding?' 'Did you just hear me say that Banff is gone?' Ben asks."
Snappy, close third-person chapters rotate among the characters, initially designated by roles: "The Photographer," "The Maid of Honor," "The Groom's Sister's Girlfriend," and so on. As readers get to know them, roles are swapped for names, and the circle tightens. The big day, a Saturday, dawns brightly but, as the wedding party gets dressed, cell phones blare. An emergency alert declares that the comet is expected to hit. They turn on the television and see no newscaster, only a 38-hour countdown. Could it be a hoax? Or was the meteor a precursor?
Disbelief quickly turns to horror, stoicism, or sorrow. Some rush to catch the last boat back to the mainland, hoping to get home to loved ones, or at least avoid being at the epicenter of the strike. Among those fleeing are Ben's sister, Penny, a recovering addict, and Grace's uncle, a member of Parliament; they find violence onboard and rioting on the mainland. Those who stay include Grace's older brother, Peter, the pastor presiding over the ceremony, and Abby, the maid of honor, whose absent husband, Lee, has terminal cancer. The comet instantly puts many things into perspective, not least the exorbitant costs of this wedding.
The characters have time to take stock of their lives and decide how to face the end. There's nothing the characters can do now--except whatever they want. Hedonism appears to be a valid option; "Eat and drink, for tomorrow we die" has never been truer. But there is also time for serious conversations, with Grace and her brothers confronting their father over the silence that has shrouded their mother's death for 25 years.
Barnard perceptively depicts varying reactions to tragedy that reflect aspects of human nature. Numbness or rage. A panic attack or the decision to end life on one's own timing. Abby feels guilty yet relieved at not having to face her husband's protracted death and widowhood. Some experience regret: "If he'd known this would be how it would end, he would have done it all differently." Peter professes faith: " 'It's not arbitrary'... comets blaze in glory.... With divinity." Some with wry acceptance: "Goodbyes are overrated." Or not-wry acceptance: "Happiness is fleeting, but now it will be the last thing I ever feel."
In such an unprecedented scenario, unforeseen interactions become full of meaning. Ben and the photographer, Sophie, grab a fork and dig into the abandoned wedding cake. Bridesmaid Sanvi, realizing she'll never see her partner again, determines to help Grace's teenage cousin, Tatty, reach her mother by phone. Grace's father searches for an underground shelter but eventually accepts that nowhere is deep enough. Peter stops sermonizing and focuses on the comfort of physical presence, watching movies and cuddling. No questions are off-limits. Characters are free to imagine what they might have done with life, and how future humans will rebuild.
In a sense, Here We Are at the End is an anti-wedding story, reminiscent of Alison Espach's The Wedding People and Naoise Dolan's The Happy Couple. Still, Sunday brings a wedding, people getting together on the next-to-last day of existence and pledging "forever," even if that's measured only in hours. Human love and exultation form a rebellion against death--and might just, in some form, persist. The built-in time limit and cycling points-of-view make this a page-turner. Barnard has achieved the improbable: a wry, heartwarming, joyous story about the end of the world. There's a universal lesson here about appreciating what one has and living in the moment. After all, as the novel puts it, "It's always just been today." --Rebecca Foster







