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Here Is Where We Meet: A Story Of Crossing Paths (2006)

Here Is Where We Meet: A Story of Crossing Paths (2006)

Book Info

Author
Genre
Rating
3.89 of 5 Votes: 4
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ISBN
1400079330 (ISBN13: 9781400079339)
Language
English
Publisher
vintage

About book Here Is Where We Meet: A Story Of Crossing Paths (2006)

I've read the English pocket edition which has been published by Vintage International. John Berger's "Here is where we meet" is fiction at it's best and tells the stories of the narrator's encounters with people that are dead for a long time. And these people played an important role in the narrator's past. By the way, there are also translations of this book into German and other languages. The book starts and ends with a talk that the narrator has with his dead mother. At different places in Europe, like Lisbon, Poland and other locations, the narrator has more of those encounters in which the dead persons become interlocutors and companions. John Berger blends in his book the past and the present, and he mixes his autobiography, different travelogues, history and phantasy as well. In this book you can guess what it means to be free in your writing in the here and now.Ich habe die englische Taschenbuchausgabe, die bei Vintage International erschienen ist, gelesen. John Bergers "Here is where we meet" ist Fiktion im besten Sinne und erzählt von Begegnungen des Ich-Erzählers in der Gegenwart mit längst verstorbenen Personen, die eine Rolle in seiner Vergangenheit gespielt haben. Eine deutsche Ausgabe ist im Carl Hanser Verlag erschienen. Das Buch beginnt und endet mit einem Gespräch, das der Ich-Erzähler mit seiner toten Mutter führt. An verschiedenen Orten in Europa, wie beispielsweise in Lissabon oder auch in Polen, kommt es zu weiteren solchen Begnungen, in denen die Toten zu Gesprächspartnern und Begleitern werden. Vergangenheit und Gegenwart vermengt John Berger in diesem Roman genau so wie Autobiographie, Reisebeschreibung, Geschichte und Fantasie. Man ahnt beim Lesen die Freiheit der Kunst im Hier und Jetzt.

For me, it felt the relationship between the living and the dead is how we connect to those who are dead. The dead can pop into our minds at what are seemingly random moments, in random places that don’t have any real connection to them, but there is something; a color, a smell, an impression that sparks something and their presence, even their point of view has a way of coming to life. For me it resonated in how those in my own life who have passed away come up in unexpected ways and times.I also found myself wondering if there can be any objectivity in memory. Is there any reality to memory or are they just impressions left behind that we try to make sense of?The detail and grounding that the descriptions of the locations provided created an environment in which the ghosts could exist and interact. The place felt real and the ghosts felt real as if they were moving in real life and in real time. Even when the mother is describing what are essentially the rules of her world they don’t feel fantastical and therefore as a reader I don’t feel like I have to make any leaps of logic for them to exist. I can trust that they do. There is a logic and simplicity which I think adds to making them feel real. Once he establishes how it works I never questioned it again as the story moved on. I don’t know if it matters if the narrator physically sees them because they feel real and part of the world and I chose to believe he does.

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Wonderful first chapter, set in one of my favorite cities (Lisbon), in which the protagonist meets up with his dead mother. It's just lovely, the way that they interact, not sappy, not too obvious, but just sort of picking up where they left off, despite the separation of death. All the chapters are set in different cities, and all put the main character in contact with a deceased person from his past. The Cracow chapter is quite good...wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to have another beer, just casually, with an old friend who has passed on? The writing is really good, too...restrained but evocative, both in describing the cities and the people. I think I was thinking Thomas Berger when I bought this book (doh!), but glad to meet up with another talented writer of that name.
—Jennifer

John Berger is always wonderful - there's not even any need to prove that - but I found this book immensely annoying. There was a lot of imprecision, at least in the parts dealing with Poland (I can't judge the rest). I appreciate the fact Berger introduces words of different languages to his books (thanks to this, you really feel like he's been and lived through what he's talking about), but honestly, one speaker of Polish could have got rid of all these mistakes in minutes. Berger sometimes uses a Polish word without realising it's a conjugated form. This is fine as long as there's someone there to correct him. As it is, with so many mistakes, this book shouldn't have really been published (though I am of course pleased that it is). I loved the Portugese beginning for the dialogues with his mother and probably because I wasn't in the position to correct him about anything. I want to see Lisboa now. As for any more of Berger's writing on Poland, I'm not so sure.
—Nasim

EFFETTO BERGEREro seduto su una panchina a leggere il mio libro. Non mi sono accorto che un anziano signore si è seduto accanto a me. Senza che io dicessi nulla, mi ha raccontato tutto intorno al libro che stavo leggendo, lo conosceva meglio di me che lo avevo in mano. Mi ha consigliato che musica ascoltare mentre lo leggevo, che pittore ci sarebbe stato bene in copertina, che vino bere per festeggiarne la conclusione... Parlava con calma, con gentilezza, senza alzare la voce, mi faceva sorridere, mi divertiva, mi intratteneva. Poi ha tirato fuori dalla tasca un taccuino scritto fitto fitto e pieno dei suoi schizzi - e me lo ha regalato, mentre cominciava a raccontarmi la storia del platano che ci faceva ombra, della piazza che ci circondava, della statua al centro, della gente che passava... infine, si è scusato per aver interrotto la mia lettura e mi ha salutato con una grazia antica. L'ho visto salire su una motocicletta inglese e allontanarsi oltre il confine. Solo a quel punto l'ho riconosciuto... quando avrei voluto fermarlo per chiedergli altri racconti.
—orsodimondo

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