Rick Simonson

Keeping a Rendezvous (John Berger 2)
September 26, 2007

A few weeks ago, we ran a post in here ("Hold Everything Dear") on the release of John Berger's new book of essays by that same title. Part of the piece was a story or two about his work and how readers carry enthusiasm for it (or for any book, especially those not so broadly on the radar) and circulate it amongst others.

There are a few little stories to relay subsequent to that piece. No, there was no 'John Berger will come back to the U.S. after thirty-some years away' moment, as welcome as such an announcement might be. These are more in keeping with the nature of his work, both fiction (novels and stories which carry elements of the essay) and essays (which carry elements of the story and the poem).

One was on the floor of the PNBA fall trade show. There in the ebb and flow of browsing and chatting were the bits of talk, fleeting and standing, greetings and meetings, making hello and catching up that constitute a good part of such a day. This now ongoing business here at pubishersweekly.com was noted by a few, albeit in the general, fairly noncomittal tone of 'Hey, I read your blog.' Even at that it gives us pause, as the viewpoint here has generally been that of the 'local' writer who gives a reading at the neighborhood store, utterly taken aback that beside the friends and family anticipated, there are others there the author wasn't aware of. Mist Place wasn't totally surprised about this reader or that, but this person and this person?

But it was a comment from an esteemed colleague from Portland who singled out the writing about Berger as something he read and liked, that took one a bit aback. This is the kind of thing that makes one take even more notice of the person saying these words, the name of John Berger not usually publicly floated about, unless it's a general reference to his Ways of Seeing, a Penguin book tied into a long ago BBC series Berger hosted, that has had an enduring run and a number of textbook adoptions.

Then there was a moment working the front counter at Elliott Bay. It was mid-afternoon, some folks in and about, a little more of a trough time of day now that school is back in session and people are back at work, in schedules. Up to the counter came a woman bearing a stack of books that looked good and interesting (to my eye). One such was the new Hold Everything Dear. For the briefest moment, I thought, going the other way with vanity and delusion, that she had seen my piece on this book on the internet and was now getting it. I have to admit, for having written that, I've done precious little with the book in the store, short of making sure it's been on prominent display - no staff recommends posting or shelf talker (which takes bracing everyone for my handwriting).Yet here was this woman with a copy.

'Oh, that's just out, it's new,' I said, 'at least here in the U.S.'

'I know,' she said. 'And I've known him.'

'Him? Berger?'

Indeed, it seemed she had, lived for years in France, in the corner's southeast country, Geneva (in Switzerland) being the nearest major city. And now she lived in Amsterdam. We talked a little of her knowing them there and then. I relayed my own more modest tale, one more in keeping of the nature of a journey, and a rendezvous. A number of years ago, planning on a Europe trip (o rare thing), I had notions of going from the Netherlands (some family living there) down to Italy. A letter was written and John Berger, by email and then phone, said yes, let's meet for dinner. The evening did happen, wonderfully (elaboration, perhaps, for another time), graciously (on the part of he and his wife Beverly), but it was the nature of how it happened, the very sense of rendezvous that I think will stick with me as much as any of the particulars, the chances ventured against whatever odds (great distances, to meet?), little directly known about the other (what could the Bergers have possibly known about a bookseller from Seattle?), and then the ability to start with a few common elements, swirl around in different worlds and spheres, and then come out somewhere new and in common. Underlying any and all of it was listening and saying, which in Berger's case seem quite related to his developed sense of seeing (which I experienced).

My favorite John Berger book of essays is Keeping a Rendezvous, which Vintage keeps nicely in print, even as many of the essays are included in Geoff Dyer's edited volume of Berger's Selected Essays - itself a vital tome. Keeping a Rendezous includes elements such as photos, sketches, poems, very small linkage or segue pieces that the larger book of essays does not. The fabulous essay, 'A Story for Aesop,' is an essay in story form, touching on the nature of stories (a dog figures) and many other relevant, wayward things, including a beautiful rumination on Velasquez's painting of Aesop (which looks amazingly like a portrait of Berger himself). The introductory note's loveliness: 'I travel to places. I live the years. This is a book about keeping rendezvous ... Each account begins with an image of where the meeting took place. Some would not be easy to find on a map, others would be ... I hope other readers will find themselves saying: I've been here ...' ... is in part because of the way it invites the reader ... and then embodies this invitation in the very pace and voice of the writing. It also resonates because it feels so much what this work is like - the meetings on-page or in a room with books, with another - that happen, sometimes routinely, sometimes surprisingly, but always with a sense of mystery and marvel somewhere just beyond the grid, waiting to be invited, to be seen, to be acknowledged. In the case of a lovely dinner one evening in Geneva or even the chance encounter at a bookstore front encounter (this woman buying her books and our exchange of stories), that acknowledgement can be wondrously mutual. 

Posted by Rick Simonson on September 26, 2007 | Comments (0)