Who hasn’t, at some time or another, studied a portrait in a gallery and wanted to know more about the subject? That multitude of mostly anonymous faces stares down at us, not just from the wall but down through the ages, and in most cases we know nothing about them. What made them pose for the artist, what were they feeling during the sittings, what did they think of the final result? In his latest book Julian Barnes uses Sargent’s famous portrait, Dr. Pozzi at home, as a jumping-off point to learn more about the extraordinary life of Samuel Pozzi, renowned French gynecologist, medical innovator, politician, and socialite. What a story it is. Pozzi seemed to know everyone in the Belle Epoque and was the trusted confidante of many of the leading figures of the day. Wealth, celebrity, and honors followed, but personal happiness in his family life eluded him. He died in 1918, struck down by four bullets fired by a disgruntled patient.

As fascinating as the story is in itself, Barnes has bigger ambitions: to give us a colorful portrait of a fascinating time in French history, to illuminate the French character, and to give us an explicit and necessary reminder in these insular, xenophobic times of how important and rewarding it is to immerse ourselves in the lives, language, and culture of other nations.  Brexit and its evangelists would have appalled Dr. Pozzi, just as they do a shrewd, urbane Francophile like Barnes.