When you've read an author with admiration, you end up loving them, and that's why for many readers of Julian Barnes it will be difficult to start reading Farewells (Editorial Angle) without feeling a pang in my heart. Before even starting it, we already know that this is the last book we will read by the author. He has made this explicit, both in the title and in the interviews he has given. Barnes is eighty years old, ill, and doesn't want to leave a book unfinished, so, with a serenity not without irony, he decided that this was the end of his literary career.

With FarewellsJulian Barnes (Leicester, 1946) does not say goodbye to literature, because he is supposed to continue reading until his death or until his eyes and brain allow it, but he does say goodbye to writing books and to his readers. When I say he's saying goodbye, I mean it literally.And he also makes this explicit in the final paragraphs, directly addressing those who are reading it: "I hope you have enjoyed our relationship over the years. I certainly have. Your presence has pleased me (when you think about it, I would be nothing without you)."

Julian Barnes (Leicester, 1946) welcomes the ARA team to his home in North London. "I've lived here for over 40 years," he says, slowly climbing the stairs to the library where we’ll chat for a while. His first words are to thank this reporter for making the trip to his haven. "On the contrary, it's a privilege to be here," I reply.

I've often wondered where my ideas come from and what happens if I change them. I'm always open to doing so: give me a solid reason why, and I'll hesitate. Let me think about it for a while, and maybe I'll take your advice, or maybe I'll end up right back where I started. Over the years, I've realized that my way of understanding the world has deep roots, stemming from a thread of thought that predates me and will outlive me: tradition, history, and the language that verbalizes it all.