This is discursive and rambling and the essay structure and wide ranging topics make no sense (and there a bit of old white man casual sexism at a few points). But I was overwhelmingly compelled by this book and it's exploration of endings. Dyer is a dilletante but a very good one. Highly recommended.

I feel like such a grump for not liking this more, because I can see that if it's something that's objectively just more up your street than it was mine then it would be a four or five starrer.

The premise is intriguing: focusing on artists and public figures as they approach old age or the end of their career. The book is ostensibly about Roger Federer (Roger to Geoff Dyer), but there is little focus on him besides a few brief chapters. The narrative is cleverly structured but jumps around all over the place, with a big focus on Nietzsche along with a large autobiographical element.

Dyer's style is unusual and often engaging - he's a true raconteur, something I witnessed during a (virtual) LRB event with him to promote this book. A lot of the readers enjoyment will rest on how much one enjoys his company; at times I found it entertaining... and at times I was itching to skip whole chapters about topics I didn't care too much about (it is never, ever interesting to read someone's account of when they were on drugs. Never.). A mixed bag for me personally, but I'm sure many readers will love this book.

As I started this book, someone called Andy Murray got dumped out of Wimbledon, potentially ending the personality vacuum's place in the tournament for ever. But then a couple of years ago, pre-coronasniffles, he'd said he was in such pain he was more or less retired. The End comes to us all, whether we be a tennis star like the titular Swiss, or us eating a Cornetto, and the quandary is whether you can see it coming. Do you know when to stop – whether you're Bob Dylan, or Bob Dylan's audience? Do you have it in you to paint a "last painting", as DH Lawrence found missing in JMW Turner's output? What is life when it's in winding-down mode?

Make no mistake, this is not anything like as light as it could have been. With seemingly the entire world to discuss, from tennis on up/down, we have Lawrence, and then lines such as "there is no doubting Nietzsche's influence on de Chirico". And insofar as this has a narrative, or a plotted thread of foci, VS Naipaul replaces Nietzsche, just because. That's not to say the whole is some plummy, academe-level waste of space, for it's not, but I did prefer things when they were more identifiable. They also feel more valuable when mixing the low-brow with the other, and our author more amenable when slumming it at our level. Certainly there's more fun in looking at a man's stockpiling of hotel shampoo when it's an erudite one, and not a chavvy influencer or wannabe columnist.

So is this readable right to the killer ending? Er, no. I don't think it was intended to be – and how brave for a book to discuss not finishing books, which didn't vindicate me skipping the less interesting (to me) sections (the jazz, books I'd never heard of by people ditto, etc) but didn't hurt. I think it's acceptable to drift in and out of this – it has many of the hallmarks (marijuana, obstinacy, self-interest and want of alternative options, perhaps) of a Mike Tyson comeback. I mean, if you want to get the ultimate low-down on The End, just quote "Spinal Tap" and be done with it.

For me, I certainly enjoyed many of what my limited vocab calls quirks – the huge, crashing, Steve Wright (a man forced to admit to semi-retirement while I finished reading this) failure of a segue between Powell and Pressburger films with Burning Man festivals, and the like. The style is chatty enough to endear itself, if you think the same of broadsheet newspapers main sections – but we remain thankful it doesn't revert to the approach of their glossy weekend additions. It certainly either seems pertinent or is a book able to shed new light on our world, for I saw a lot of its themes played out, whether it be with the aforementioned tennis player and radio DJ, or with the fact Cameron Diaz was announced as leaving a retirement few realised she was in.

Star ratings etc, however obligatory these days, are a little irrelevant in such an academic circle as this book. Which is a sign that no, it is not as populist as it might have been, perhaps. I read it, I engaged with a fair amount of it, and I got to the end and found closure. And went off and listened to both "The Final Song" by OMD and the track they thought would be the last they'd ever write, from well over a generation beforehand.

Geoff Dyer's latest foray into creative non-fiction feels more straightforward, more thoughtful and less snarky, than some earlier stuff. He writes movingly about prominent figures like Bob Dylan, Roger Federer, etc., coming to grips with time's lessening of our powers. Highly recommended!

Most of this was way too smart for me, but I enjoyed the challenge of trying to keep up with the author's lightning-speed wit and wisdom. I've read a few books by Geoff Dyer and will continue to seek out his new titles as they arrive.

Geoff Dyer’s latest nonfiction book is about last things - last days in a career, a life, lastness generally - that takes the form of a rambling narrative recounting experiences and cultural things that have happened to and around the author.

Your enjoyment will depend on how interesting you find the myriad subjects touched upon over the course of the book but Dyer is nothing if not an affable and amusing host who manages to convey interest in things you might not have thought yourself interested in. That said, there are definitely some subjects Dyer is unable to do that to (ie. jazz - the only thing worse than reading about jazz is listening to it), but all told I found this book to be fairly entertaining and enlightening even.

While Dyer touches on several artistic luminaries the book remains accessible because he focuses less on the subject’s usually complex output and more on their lives. So, while the megalomaniacal philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche features prominently (a bit too much really), Dyer doesn’t delve deeply into Nietzsche’s various writings but instead focuses on the person he was, his turbulent friendship with Wagner, his mad last days, and his controversial legacy.

And, like a good teacher, I learned a lot of interesting stuff from Dyer, like Joseph Turner’s last paintings, which were so focused on light they practically obscured all objects; David Thomson’s remarkable decades-long work The New Biographical Dictionary of Film with its idiosyncratic entries; Albert Bierstadt’s western paintings that heavily influenced the aesthetic of western movies; and Bob Dylan’s never-ending tinkering with his song Tangled Up in Blue.

As a bookish fellow, I enjoyed his book reviews the most, particularly how he tortures himself by trying to read A Dance to the Music of Time (which only cements my belief that I’ll never read it), and his funny comments on Nostromo. He also has a lot of sharp observations about Martin Amis’ output, especially his latest book Inside Story, and Christopher Hitchens and Philip Larkin, all of which were engaging to read about. He also has a great deal to say about DH Lawrence and Jack Kerouac, two writers who lived interesting lives, and Hemingway and his writing process.

There’s also snippets of autobiography included here, like Dyer’s love of playing tennis leading to numerous health problems over the years, which also ties into the theme of last things as Dyer is ageing (he’s in his 60s) and facing his mortality as his body begins to break down. I was surprised by how druggy a writer he turned out to be, although I shouldn’t be given that I know nothing about the man!

So there’s a lot here about the weed culture in California (he currently lives in LA) and his evolving stance on the drug, going to Burning Man and his experiences there, and culminating with taking DMT. I wasn’t that taken with these parts of the book - I just find it tiresome reading about people’s drug histories. Yeah, yeah, you did some drugs and saw “some things”. Whatever. Maybe all the hallucinogens is why we get lines like this:

“One of the reasons we love watching Roger is because of the way - like Dennis Bergkamp - he looks like he is moving within a different, more accommodating dimension of time.”

Huh?

I wouldn’t get too hung up on the title because there’s not that much on Roger Federer (or simply “Roger” as Dyer insists on calling him), or on any of the other tennis players he mentions, but then there probably wouldn’t be, would there? Professional sportsmen are a bit of a dreary bunch. Except for Borg who went on a bizarre personal odyssey following his defeat at the hands of McEnroe and his exit from pro tennis.

While reading Dyer’s feelings about jazz is tedious (he likes it a lot), reading about the lives of noteworthy jazz players is fascinating because they were such a hard-living, tragic crowd. Beethoven though isn’t as compelling to read about, either biographically or musically, and there’s quite a bit about the composer. That’s in part because this book was originally conceived as being about Turner and Beethoven, uncouth artists who never became socially refined despite their success and high status. I think it’s better that the book turned out in this form instead of that one.

Writing about last things and the concept of lastness is a simple concept but one that works because Dyer is a thoughtful and insightful writer who chooses his subjects mostly well. I liked the literary parts, learning about cultural artefacts I wasn’t aware of before, some of the tennis stuff, and the biographical aspects of the jazz parts, but got quite bored with hearing about jazz in general, some of the tennis stuff, and most of the drug parts.

The Last Days of Roger Federer and Other Endings isn’t a gripping read but it’s fun to dip in and out of, like a short story collection where, if one story doesn’t get you, another one might.

Thanks to Netgalley and FSG for the ebook. While considering the end of Roger Federer’s career, the author starts to examine other ends. Late career athletes, but also musicians and writers. He takes us through the last years and artistic achievements of Nietzsche, Beethoven, Coltrane, J. M. W. Turner, Bob Dylan and others, but also, as he ages, the approach of last things for the author. His possible last time at Burning Man, his trying to hold off as long as he can the playing of his last game of tennis. This author is always so quick witted and thoughtful that you certainly hope this isn’t close to being his last book.

This book was, in many ways, typically Dyer, though its focus on endings (of life, of careers, etc.) was certainly intriguing. However, the last third of the book was a bit repetitive of the first two-thirds, and it didn't really broach any new ground while honing its focus. In the end, it was good, but not great, and not particularly memorable.

The title is slightly misleading, but the book is a wonderful meditation on aging during the prime of one's life.

We, mortals, are fascinated by the events defined as “the last”. This fascination is reflected even in the titles of our films, paintings, and books such as The Last Supper, Last Tango in Paris, or The Last of the Mohicans. The newest book by Geoff Dyer The Last Days of Roger Federer and Other Endings published by Farrar, Straus, and Giroux is very much in the vein of our interest.

This is not a story about the last matches of a famous tennis player, although they occupy a prominent place in it, but about the last works of artists for whom life meant creating. As their lives drew to an end, their creativity changed along with the weakness of their physical bodies – sometimes it diminished completely, sometimes it manifested itself in a completely different way, like in Beethoven’s case where ‘the dissociation and disintegration themselves become artistic means’.

Geoff Dyer describes the last years of Beethoven, Nietzsche, Turner, and Coltrane, just to name a few subjects of his analysis, looking at them with inquisitiveness, justified by the fact that, being a writer over 60, he cannot resist the thought that perhaps this book could be his last. While we usually know what our “firsts” were – the first kiss, the first job, the first sushi – we usually do not know what will be the “last”. Rarely, we make a conscious decision to do something for the last time, such as in Geoff Dyer’s case, his Burning Man experience; describing it he’s well aware that he’s doing it for the last time. Not because he is bored, but because he knows he won’t be able to experience anything new there. Coming back will be truly just a sentimental journey. The stigma of finality gives his experience the mark of freedom, and every moment becomes important.

The Last Days of Federer narrative reminded me of Emmanuel Carrere’s The Kingdom but also of a diary of someone I would like to talk to, partly because that person is extremely witty, and partly because you never know which way the conversation will go. Will it become a description of a narcotic trance or an in-depth analysis of jazz? I have to admit that this way of writing suits me very well. By intertwining information that could be given in a good academic lecture, with lightly examining one’s problems with tennis injuries, I was able to contemplate what old age means to me in a calm, unhurried way. Geoff Dyer’s energetic and humorous writing allows plenty of space for the reader’s reflection on how creativity is impacted by age.

Geoff Dyer can write about anything and make it interesting. As Geoff is an ageing man and had some time to spare through the pandemic he gives us his thoughts on getting older and endings. Some people know when to quit while others carry on to increasingly diminished returns. Geoff is not one of those people. I found his wry observations as entertaining as ever as I age with him.

My thanks to both NetGalley and the publisher Farrar, Straus and Giroux for an advanced copy of this new collection of essays on endings.

Life is a series of endings. Childhood, careers, fads, politics, innocence, life. Age is sometimes a factor, childish things get put behind, making that serve causes more pain than victories, interest wans. Sometimes its outside factors, a dream job lost due to corporate accounting, maladies of the body. Maladies of the spirt also lead to endings, sometimes permanent, sometimes just a break. Geoff Dyer in his book The Last Days of Roger Federer: And Other Endings starts with the retirement of a tennis star, than looks at how other athletes and artists dealt with their endings, including himself.

The book is a series of essays, with short chapters describing the aging of athletes, artists and others and how they dealt with the fact that their craft was not up to the high expectations of what it once was. Some walk away into the sunset, heads high, on to the next thing, or even nothing, Some hang on trying to keep the dream alive, living with disappointments, trying hard for one last great project. Some examples, are Bob Dylan's constant reinvention of old songs, where could John Coltrane have taken jazz, Pharaoh Saunders playing at the end, sports heroes and himself. As Mr. Dyer he discusses how things have changed for him both physically and mentally, and how things have changed.

The book is beautifully written with passages and lines that just stay with the reader. Some are sad, some are just different ways of looking at a situation. The book is written almost as diary entries, as things occur to him, Mr. Dyer will write about it. Some are longer, reflections about artists especially, but most are short to the point and non-judgemental. Who are we to judge if an artist should leave the scene. The art might not be as strong, the work sometimes embarrassing, but if the artist is trying, shouldn't the audience allow this. Questions are asked, sometimes answered, but much is left to the reader.

One of the more interesting collections I have read in awhile. I am quite the fan of Mr. Dyer, I've read probably more of his nonfiction, than his fiction but he is always a writer that I feel I have learned quite a bit from after reading. There is a lot going on, and this is a book that will stay with the reader for quite a while after reading.

"…It had been a question, always, of moving on and, if that was impossible, of pulling through…"

Every subject in this book was observed while in the process of moving on. Or pulling through. As in any Geoff Dyer book there are always nuggets in which to save and mull over when the time is right. There are few writers who examine their own life as intensely as Dyer has throughout his rather prolific literary career. For quite some time Dyer also maintained the status of being my favorite essayist, that is until others took his cue and began their own, sometimes more interesting, journeys on the page.

"…Nietzche’s solitude condemned him to being, in Stefan Zweig’s phrase, ‘the sole witness’ to the tragic monodrama of his life…"

Dyer socially spreads himself around , and puts himself in touch with so many other human beings and their experiences that follow, that there is little chance of him being condemned to a life of solitude. However, people like me should take note and get out and about a bit more than they do. I am quite certain that without my wife hiding in this closeted room with me that I too would be solely involved in the ‘tragic monodrama of my life.’ But perhaps, as a happily married couple, we are both stuck in what might appear as a duodrama, and still tragic enough for all.

"…‘That the profoundest mind must also be the most frivolous one,’ was, Nietzche said, almost a formula for his philosophy…"

Interesting, given that Nietzche’s philosophy was so dark and serious. His premise for being frivolous is almost laughable, but perhaps in the act of playing, even mostly by himself, Nietzche learned what really mattered. In his infamous fiction-writing classes the great teacher and editor Gordon Lish always maintained the importance of play on the page and how it is used to ‘make time.’

"…The real interest is how things change neither dramatically nor suddenly but gradually. So gradually as to be imperceptible. No one has put this better than George Oppen who said (to Paul Auster) about growing old, ‘What a strange thing to happen to a little boy.’"

The exact same theme lately for my wife and I over how fast our lives have seemed to speed by. When we slow down enough to look back at things it is obvious our plate has been entirely full, but the speed in which our time together has seemed to travel feels nothing short of astounding. It is as if in just one day we woke up old.

What an interesting journey this book was. I wasn't familiar with Geoff Dyer's writing before reading this, but I enjoyed the blend of memoir, musings on high and low art and his experience with tennis, both as a spectator and player. I few parts dragged, but there was always something interesting to keep me moving forward.

Geoff Dyer has an unquenchable curiosity and possesses admirable power of retention. This collection of thoughts, memories, analyses supposedly addressing the finality of lives devoted to particular pursuits, primarily artistic and athletic, reads more like stream of consciousness rather than a set of essays. Essays are usually long investigations into a subject, but this book is almost an autobiographical meander touching on lives sometimes near their ends. Where else can you get such an original take on subjects as diverse representative in the worlds of letters, sports, art, music. I was particularly charmed by the fact that he admits to putting down a book if it's not working for him, walking out of a movie, just quitting when the realization that life is too damn short to waste. His own life plays a large part and I particularly liked reading about his experiences at Burning Man, his passion for tennis, his life in general.

Interesting but not really my cup of tea. Well written I just personally couldn’t get into the story. I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.