The Red Tenda of Bologna

by John Berger

'It's an improbable city, Bologna - like one you might walk through after you have died.'

A dreamlike meditation on memory, food, paintings, a fond uncle and the improbable beauty of Bologna, from the visionary thinker and art critic.

Penguin Modern: fifty new books celebrating the pioneering spirit of the iconic Penguin Modern Classics series, with each one offering a concentrated hit of its contemporary, international flavour. Here are authors ranging from Kathy Acker to James Baldwin, Truman Capote to Stanislaw Lem and George Orwell to Shirley Jackson; essays radical and inspiring; poems moving and disturbing; stories surreal and fabulous; taking us from the deep South to modern Japan, New York's underground scene to the farthest reaches of outer space.

Genres: Nonfiction, Essays, Art, Classics, Italy, Travel, Short Stories

64 pages, Paperback

First published July 9, 2007

About the author

John Peter Berger was an English art critic, novelist, painter and author. His novel G. won the 1972 Booker Prize, and his essay on art criticism Ways of Seeing, written as an accompaniment to a BBC series, is often used as a college text.

Later he was self exiled to continental Europe, living between the french Alps in summer and the suburbs of Paris in winter. Since then, his production has increased considerably, including a variety of genres, from novel to social essay, or poetry. One of the most common themes that appears on his books is the dialectics established between modernity and memory and loss,

Another of his most remarkable works has been the trilogy titled Into Their Labours, that includes the books Pig Earth (1979), Once In Europa (1983) Lilac And Flag (1990). With those books, Berger makes a meditation about the way of the peasant, that changes one poverty for another in the city. This theme is also observed in his novel King, but there his focus is more in the rural diaspora and the bitter side of the urban way of life.

Reviews

[Ilse · Rating 5 out of 5]

Time will tell.

…The light
Of the future doesn’t cease for even an instant
to wound us: it is here to
brand us in all our daily deeds
with anxiety even in the confidence
that gives us life…
(Pier Paolo Pasolini)

In these intimistic, fragmented meditations writer and art critic John Berger commemorates a brother of his father, Edgar, who came to live with Berger’s family when he was about ten - a man ’hard-up on money, unmarried, unprepossessing’ of who the young Berger admired ‘his alternative vision, his shabby and royal intransigence’. As his uncle was fascinated by the city of Bologna, Berger introduces both his uncle and the city to the reader by wandering in a gentle pace, in his uncle’s footsteps, through Bologna, in dreamlike ‘encounters’ with his late uncle contemplating art, food, history, war, martyrs. Halting on the piazza’s, visiting the church, musing on red, touching through gospel references on themes like grief, determination, the passing of time, travelling and memory, Berger fuses the memories of his uncle with impressions on art and the city.



Time will tell, he used to say, and he said this in such a way that I assumed time would tell what we’d both be finally glad to hear.

Through the art – the painting of Bologna’s metaphysician son Giorgio Morandi, Niccolò dell'Arca’s Compianto sul Cristo morto in the Santa Maria della Vita church, Caravaggio - he reminiscences on the life lessons his uncle taught him, the secrets he shared with him. Indicating his uncle ’had learnt how persistently many people need to look away from, to neutralize, what surrounds them’ we are reminded of what Berger would phrase in his Ways of Seeing ‘It is seeing which establishes our place in the surrounding world; we explain that world with words, but word can never undo the fact that we are surrounded by it. The relation between what we see and what we know is never settled.’



Time will tell.

The Red Tenda of Bologna is a magnificent ode to the solace of remembrance, how the dead who morphed our lives live on within our life and memory and continue to ripple our consciousness, guide and inspire us like a quiet, radiant lodestar that keeps on writing under the skin.

A breathtakingly beautiful and subtle in memoriam annex travelogue, poetic, sensitive, tender and dreamlike.

I now dream again of visiting Bologna, too.

Time alone.
Time will tell.

[Paula Mota · Rating 5 out of 5]

It’s not that with age I have become more patient. I’m as impatient as I was when I was eleven; it’s simply that I believe in time less.

Estou apaixonada por John Berger. Era um autor original, culto, multifacetado, inteligente e extremamente sensível. Em “The Red Tenda of Bologna”, o terceiro livro dele que leio este ano, recorda com muito carinho o tio, um homem caricato que adorava viajar e planear minuciosamente as suas viagens, bem como receber e escrever cartas a correspondentes e a parentes distantes e que, essencialmente, se sentia fascinado por Bolonha.

Yet I thought of him ageless. Not unchanging, certainly not immortal, but ageless because unanchored in any period, past or future. And so, as kid, I could love him as an equal. Which I did.

Quando chega a sua vez de a visitar, Berger discorre sobre os seus toldos vermelhos, as suas arcadas, a sua cozinha e as suas gentes, terminando com um reencontro muito especial.
Adoro estes livros de auto-ficção em que se começa a discorrer sobre um tema ou uma pessoa, e se acaba bem longe do ponto de partida, livros que me fazem pesquisar e querer ver aquilo que os autores descrevem. E a vontade com que fiquei de visitar Bolonha já, de ver o seu espantoso Compianto é inexplicável.

The two men in the group are calm, the four Marys are caught in the hurricane of grief. The vortex of the hurricane is Mary Magdalene. What the wind does to her clothes, the way it tears at them as she rushes forward, is the same as what her grief has done to her mouth and throat.

[Arman · Rating 5 out of 5]

روایتی گیرا و شاعرانه از برجر درباره رابطه‌اش با عموی بزرگش و رابطه فقدان او با شهر بولونیا. روایتی که همه حواس و احساسات آدم را به بازی می‌گیرد، همانطور که قدم زدن در کوچه و پس‌کوچه‌ها و خیره شدن به دیوارهای سرخ رنگ آن و گوش سپردن به عابرینی که بلند بلند حرف می‌زنند و از کنارت می‌گذرند، چنان هوش و حواست را می‌برد که ناگاه به خود می‌آیی و می‌بینی که ساعت‌هاست داری بی‌هدف این هزارتوی سرخ را گز می‌کنی.
وقتی برجر چنین سیال و نفس‌گیر از این شهر محبوبم حرف می‌زند که حالا دیگر یکسال و خورده‌ای را در آن سر کرده‌ام و ساعت‌ها و روزها سرخوشانه و بی‌هدف در کوچه‌های باریک و در هم گره خورده‌اش قدم زده‌ام، نمی‌توانم در روایتش غرق نشوم و خونسردانه بنشینم و فکر کنم که این لعنتی چطور با قلم جذابش مرا از انگلستانش کند و یکهو به میان کوچه‌های بولونیا آورد، بی‌آنکه متوجه‌اش شوم، و چطور مرا بار دیگر عاشق این شهر سحرآمیز، این سرخِ پهن شده در پای کوه‌های آپنین کرده است. نمی‌توانم خودم را در این چند ساعت باقی مانده از شب نگه دارم، تا که کتی به تن نکنم و به دل خیابان‌های آب گرفته و نمور شهر نزنم.

[Kirsty · Rating 5 out of 5]

I had not read anything of John Berger's before reaching the thirtieth book in the Penguin Moderns series. The Red Tenda of Bologna, which was first published in 2007, is a 'dream-like meditation on memory, food, paintings, a fond uncle and the improbable beauty of Bologna, from the visionary thinker and art critic.'

The Red Tenda of Bologna opens in an intriguing, even a spellbinding, way, when Berger depicts the relationship which he had with his uncle Edgar: 'I should begin with how I loved him, in what manner, to what degree, with what kind of incomprehension.' The way in which he describes his uncle is quite lovely: 'When he first came to live with us, I was about ten years old and he was in his mid-fifties. Yet I thought of him as ageless. Not unchanging, certainly not immortal, but ageless because unanchored in any period, past or future. And so, as a kid, I could love him as an equal. Which I did.'

The Red Tenda of Bologna is comprised of a series of untitled vignettes, some of which are only one sentence long, and which together form a wonderful fragmented memoir. These vignettes follow one another in their content; a rumination in one about Berger and Uncle Edgar sharing affection for one another by giving small gifts leads to a list of some of the things which they exchanged, ranging from 'a map of Iceland' and 'a pair of motorbike goggles', to 'a biography of Dickens' and 'one and a half dozen Whistable oysters.'

Berger fittingly brings his memories of his uncle to life on the page. It soon becomes quite possible to see Edgar sitting astride his upright bicycle, with its pile of books strapped to the luggage rack, ready to be exchanged at Croydon's public library. Edgar was clearly a huge influence upon, and comfort within, Berger's life. He writes: 'Whenever I stood beside him - in the figurative or literal sense - I felt reassured. Time will tell, he used to say, and he said this in such a way that I assumed time would tell what we'd both be finally glad to hear.'

Indeed, Berger decides to travel to Bologna quite some time after his uncle's death, as it was a place which Edgar held dear. The scenes which unfold on the page are both sumptuous and observant; for instance, Berger writes: 'I notice that some people crossing the square, when they are more or less at its centre, pause and lean their backs against an invisible wall of an invisible tower of air, which reaches towards the sky, and there they glance upwards to check the clouds or the sky's emptiness.' Thus, the history of his uncle, and the history of Bologna, begin to converge. Berger writes about a singular relationship, as well as the relationship which he has with Bologna.

The 'tenda' of the book's title is the name of the red cloth used to make window awnings in Bologna, all of which are in varying shades of red according to their age. Berger wishes to buy a length of it, as a souvenir of his trip. He writes: 'I'm not sure what I'll do with it. Maybe I only need it to make this portrait. Anyway I'll be able to feel it, scrumble it up, smooth it out, hold it against the sunlight, hang it, fold it, dream of what's on the other side.'

The Red Tenda of Bologna is a tender, thoughtful rumination on life and love. It is a small but perfectly formed book, artful and intelligent. The prose is best savoured, written as it is with the all-seeing artist's eye.

[Rosa · Rating 3 out of 5]

" از ذهنم می گذرد که سایبان، جز این که پرده ای باشد برای جلوگیری از نور آفتاب، شاید پرده ای برای پنهان نگه داشتن سوگ هم باشد، برای گسترش اراده... "
لطیف، کوتاه و خیال انگیز، سایبان سرخ بولونیا شاید کتابی نباشه که ذهن و منطق رو چندان درگیر کنه اما حس خوبش مثل ی دلتنگی عجیب برای خاطره ای مبهم و دوره، حتی دلم برای عمو ادگار هم تنگ شد..🫠

[صان · Rating 5 out of 5]

وقتی از قفسه کتاب‌فروشی (نشر چشمه کریم‌خان) برداشتمش، دیدم یکی اولش چیزی نوشته. جلوتر هم کلی خط‌کشی داشت. تا ته. از فروشنده پرسیدم این مال کیه؟ نمی‌دونست. گفتم می‌تونم همینو بخرم؟ گفت آره. کسی که قبلا کتاب رو خونده بود، به خوراکی‌ها توجه ویژه داشت. به مارک قهوه، به یه نوع کالباس مورتادلا و این چیزها. زیرشون خط کشیده بود. خیلی جالبه که چیزی رو بخونی که قبلا یکی خونده و ببینی چه بخش‌هایی برای اون جذاب بوده. مثل باهم‌فیلم‌بینی که وسط فیلم درگوشی به رفیقت میگی اینجاش جالبه یا اونجاش فلانه.

کتاب بسیار کوتاهی بود که توی قطار تهران-مشهد خوندمش. ناداستانی کوتاه درباره چند روزی که برجر در بولونیا بوده و توی خیابون‌ها قدم می‌زده و یکم خرید می‌کرده. در این بین خاطراتی از عموی درگذشته‌شو می‌گه و شهر، پیوندی می‌شه بین راوی و عمو و از این طریق خاطراتی زنده می‌شن و شخصتی از عمو شکل می‌گیره. شخصیتی که از دل خاطرات بر اومده، خاطراتی که با هر بار فکر کردن بهشون دوباره بازتولیدشون می‌کنیم و معلوم نیست در هر نسخه چقدر به نسخه قبل وفادار می‌مونن.

این ماجرای بازتولید خاطرات در ذهن، من رو یاد کپی‌های دی‌ان‌دی در پروسه رشد می‌اندازه. این که می‌گن هر بار که یه سلول می‌میره و جایگزین خودشو تولید می‌کنه، یه کپی از دی‌ان‌ای گرفته می‌شه. در طول عمر این کپی‌ها بارها گرفته می‌شن، انقدر که توشون خطا رخ می‌ده و در نهایت این خطاها موجب پیری و فرسودگی می��شه. خاطرات هم همینن انگار، هر بار که بهشون فکر می‌کنیم بازتولید می‌شن و شاید نسبت به بار قبل، یک درصد عوض بشن.
در نهایت وقتی ۱۰۰ بار این اتفاق می‌افته، شاید یک خاطره با حس‌های جدید داشته باشیم. اما شاید این روند برعکس رشد و تقسیم سلولیه. در سلول اگر شاهد فرسودگی هستیم، در خاطرات به نظرم شاهد پالوده شدن هستیم. مثل خاطره‌های بدی که هر چی زمان می‌گذره ازشون، دیگه اونقد هم بد نیستن. سیلی معلم شاید دیگه اونقدر دردناک نباشه، یا یک جدایی و رفتار بد یک آدم، بعد از ۱۰ سال دیگه دردناک نباشه و حتی یادآوریش یک لبخند کمرنگ هم گوشه لب بیاره. البته درباره همین هم مرز باریکیه و تجربه‌های تروماتیک فکر کنم روند برعکسی دارن و اثر اولیه‌شون به همون قدرت باقی می‌مونه. و شاید همینه که باعث می‌شه بهشون بگیم تروما، نه یک تجربه صرفا «بد».

دوست دارم یک روز پارچه سرخی بخرم و روی پله‌های ایتالیایی بولونیا دراز بکشم، اگر یه روز این کارو بکنم یاد آقای برجر میفتم و من هم می‌شم بخشی از جهانی که کسی زمانی روی یک تکه سنگ دراز کشیده بوده و به عموش فکر می‌کرده.
ماجرای خود کتاب هم برای من مثل این سفرنامه بولونیا میمونه. اگر زمانی، شهری، واسطه می‌شده برای توصیف یک آدم (عمو) برای راوی، این کتاب هم واسطه‌ای شد برای توصیف یک غریبه، برای من. غریبه‌ای که احتمالا دوست داشته کالباس و قهوه بلو مانتین جامائیکا رو امتحان کنه، نگاهی به نقاشی‌های موراندی بندازه (که اون هم اهل بولونیا بوده) و بدش نمیومده که یه روزی یه گیلاس شراب مخصوص این شهرو بزنه.

[Rana Heshmati · Rating 4 out of 5]

‌
سایبان سرخ بولونیا برام کتاب خاصی بود. همون زمانی که داشتم «از آ به خ» رو می‌خوندم توی کتابفروشی دیدمش و خریدمش. گفتم ایول، یه کتاب دیگه از جان برجر. درهمون لحظات اول متوجه شدم که یکی دیگه از نویسنده‌های محبوبم رو پیدا کردم. کسی که می‌تونه زندگی رو لمس کنه و به کلمه درش بیاره.
با مقدمه محسن آزرم اشک ریختم، و بنظرم خیلی خاص و فوق‌العاده نوشته شده برای این کتاب. انگار باعث شده که دیده بشه. حسش کنی.‌
«حافظه، آنگونه که کراکوئر نوشته، پر است از شکاف‌هایی که ارزشی برای تقویم و تاریخ قائل نیستند. چه اهمیتی دارد که قبل از آن لحظه‌ای که در حافظه نقش بسته چه اتفاقی افتاده؟ و چرا لحظه‌ای بعد آن باید برای‌مان مهم باشد؟ اگر اهمیتی داشت لابد مثل این لحظه آن یکی را هم به یاد می‌آوردیم. «ناداستان خلاق» یا «ناداستان روایی» را گاهی به حافظه‌ای شبیه می‌دانند که هرچند نشانی از واقعیت در آن پیداست نمی‌توان کاملا به آن اعتماد کرد؛ چون ذهن هر آدمی در گذر زمان چیزهایی را کنار می‌گذارد و چیزهای تازه‌ای به آن‌چه در ذهنش مانده اضافه می‌کند.
سایبان سرخ بولونیا شرح دست‌اولی است از آن‌چه جان برجر نویسنده (جان برجر پیر) از سال‌های دور (سال‌های نوجوانی یا جوانی) به یاد می‌آورد؛ بی‌آن‌که نوشته‌اش شباهتی به «زندگی‌نگاره» پیدا کند. نوشته‌ای که بین گذشته و حال در رفت‌وآمد است اما لحظه‌ای به خواننده‌اش قول نمی‌دهد که در این رفت‌وآمدهای‌ پیوسته نظم‌وترتیبی را رعایت کند. می‌توان به گذشته رفت و ماند؛ دعوت گذشته را هیچ‌وقت نمی‌توان رد کرد. می‌توان با به یادآوردن لحظه‌ای، یا جمله‌ای، اصلا از ذهن و خاطره بیرون زد و به جست‌وجوی چیزی در تاریخ برآمد و مگر تاریخ، این روایت مکرر، چیزی جز لحظه‌های مدام تکرارشده‌ای است که کم‌کم در حافظهٔ جمعی جا خوش کرده‌اند؟»

[Eylül Görmüş · Rating 4 out of 5]

Çok sevdiğim Bologna’ya John Berger’in müstesna bakışıyla bakmak ne kadar güzeldi. Naçizane tavsiyem bu kitabı Bologna’yı gördükten sonra okumanız olacaktır; şehrin kızıllığı teninize sindikten, portikoları aklınıza kazındıktan sonra. Berger hafif mistik bir şekilde gözlemliyor şehri. Kaybettiği amcasının yasını Bologna’yı kucaklayarak tutuyor bir nevi ve şehirdeki flanörlük deneyimlerini aktarıyor. Hafifçe Calvino’nın Görünmez Kentler’ini de andıran tatlı, lirik, hoş bir kitap Bologna’nın Kırmızı Tenteleri.

[Stephen P(who no longer can participate due to illness) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Best Book I Have Read This Year.

[Paul Secor · Rating 5 out of 5]

A small book - though in size only - which is a tribute to a beloved uncle, to the city of Bologna, to art and to life. (John Berger is able to make the last two as one.)

p. 3 - He and I seldom embraced or touched each other, our most intimate contact was made through gifts. During three decades our gifts conformed to the same tacit, unwritten law: any gift had to be small, unusual and addressed to a particular appetite known to exist in the other.

p. 12 - By this time I was at art school and so I mentioned to him that Bologna was the city of Morandi. And no sooner had I said this than I saw in a flash that he and Morandi could well put on and wear each other's shoes without either of them noticing the difference!

p. 15 - In the Piazza Maggiore some steps lead up to the east face of the Basilica of St. Petronius, which, like many of Bologna's historic buildings is constructed in brick. For centuries people have sat on these steps to watch what's happening in the square and to notice the minute differences between yesterday and today. I'm sitting on these steps.

p. 23 - I want to buy a length of this red tende linen I'm not sure what I'll do with it. Maybe I only need it to make this portrait. Anyway I'll be able to feel it , scramble it up, smooth it out, hold it against the sunlight, hang it, fold it, dream of what's on the other side.

p. 28 - There are two women before me. One is touching the velvet, over which she's hesitating, as if t were her daughter's just washed hair.

[Argos · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bir özelliği yok, yazar ve kitap adı cezbedici, hepsi bu.

[Melika Gohari · Rating 3 out of 5]

جریانی خواندنی در خاطرات جان برجر.
دلنشین بود. :))

[Mahtab · Rating 5 out of 5]

خیلی این کتاب رو دوست داشتم.درعین این که کوتاه بود ولی تونستم جریان زندگی توی شهربولونیا رو درک کنم.خط به خط همراه کتاب بولونیا رو با گوگل مپ راه رفتم.قشنگترین قسمتش برای من کلیسای سانتا ماریا دلا ویتا بود.

[D · Rating 3 out of 5]

Unsubstantial but charming very short vignet, about 15 normal pages, I would guess. 2.5 stars, really.

[°•.Melina°•. · Rating 2 out of 5]

بعضی کتابا واقعا با ترجمه از دست میرن.و این قطعا یکی از اوناس.چون بار اول خیلی منو غرق خودش نکرد ولی وقتی رفتم یه سری تیکه‌های انگلیسیشو خوندم خیلی دلربا بود چه برسه به فرانسویش🥺مثل این میمونه که به جای داستان داری نقاشی میخونی.همش توصیف و رنگ و احساساته.
با این حال مصاحبه‌ی مترجم‌هارو هم که نگاه کردم،داشتن توضیح میدادن که چقدر سعی کردن این قشنگی رو در قالب کلمات فارسی جا بدن و واقعا نهایت سعیشونو کردن.
در کل خیلی مطابق سلیقه‌ی من نبود.کلا ادبیات معاصر خیلی داره عجیب میشه.خیلی آروم و درونی تر از اینه که منی که دوست دارم کتاب ها حادثه‌محور باشن و منو به وجد بیارن،ازشون لذت ببرم.

[Ourania Topa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ολιγοσέλιδο ταξίδι στη Μπολόνια με συντροφιά τη φασματική παρουσία ενός αγαπημένου προσώπου. Σχέσεις που μας καθορίζουν από τη νεαρή μας ηλικία, που μας δείχνουν τρόπους να βιώνουμε το τώρα και το εδώ, τον χρόνο και τον τόπο. Πήγα στην "κόκκινη" Μπολόνια λοιπόν, τη "Rossa", παρέα με τον αφηγητή και τον αγαπημένο του θείο, κάθισα λίγες ώρες στα σκαλιά της Piazza Maggiore, περιδιάβηκα τις Porticos / Στοές και απόλαυσα την ατμόσφαιρα της πόλης.
Υ.Γ. όσοι ενδιαφέρεστε για την Ιστορία της Τέχνης, θα βρείτε λόγους να το αγαπήσετε ακόμη περισσότερο αυτό το βιβλιο-σφηνάκι.

[Burak Kuscu · Rating 3 out of 5]

Yaklaşık 15-20 dakikada okunabilecek kısa bir kitap. Ben bir oturuşta okudum ve şu anda bir sokak kafesinde kahvemi yudumlayıp gazete, kitap okuyasım var.

İtalya'nın güzel şehri Bologna hakkında kurgu dışı bu metin, yazarın amcasıyla arasındaki ilişkiyi gözler önüne seriyor. Amcasına bir saygı duruşu olarak algıladım ben. Fena değildi ama çok üst düzey bir kitap beklememek lazım. Berger her zaman okunur.

[Elly Tarahimofrad · Rating 3 out of 5]

من لحظه‌هایی از زندگی‌هایی که جان برجر داشته، به‌خصوص در شهرهای مختلف اروپایی، لحظه‌هایی که از دست داده و تنها خاطره‌اش مونده و قطعه قطعه می‌نویسه رو دوست دارم.

[Yanina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautiful, exquisite.
Art, food, adolescence, writing letters, appearances, architecture.
"Here is a random list of some of the gifts we exchanged.
A knife for opening envelopes
A packet of Breton galette
A man of Iceland
A pair of motorbike goggles
A paperback edition of Spinoza's Ethics
ONe and a half dozen Whitstable oysters
A biography of Dickens
A matchbox full fo Egyptian sand
A bottle fo Tequila, the eau de vie of the desert from Mexico"

Isn't it wonderful when outstanding , non-conventional heroes share their lists? Such an intimate act to me; a momentary gaze deep inside the soul. I think Patti Smith does this in her "Just Kids" memoir.
Maria Stepanova, Russian writer and essayist, in her book "Memory Memory", which is in a sense a huge 405 pages list in itself of works of art, literary pieces, diaries, family history, mentions Arthur Rimbaud sent extensive lists to his family of the things, dictionaries, encyclopaedias, equipment that he needs while he was living in Abyssinia. As well as the list of another poet Daniil Harms interests me:
Writing poetry and getting to know various things from poems. Prose, enlightenment, inspiration, ultimate conscience, everything connected to it, ways to reach this. Finding your own way of reaching it. Various knowledge unknown to science. Null and zero. Numbers, especial not consistently connected. Signs. Letters. Fonts and handwriting. Everything that is logically senseless and ridiculous. Everything, that makes laugh and humour. Stupidity. Natural thinkers. Old superstitions and new. Miracle. Magic tricks ( without appliances). Human private relations. Smells. Destruction of disgust. Washing, bathing, bath. Cleanliness and dirt. Food. Cooking of some dishes. Table decoration. Household of a house, apartment, room. Clothing, men and women's. Ways of wearing clothes.
Smoking ( pipe, cigars). What people are doing when alone. Sleep. Diaries. Writing on a paper with ink and pencil. Daily recording of events. Recording weather. Lunar phases. Views of sky and water. Wheel. Sticks, canes, batons. Anthill. Little flat-coated dogs. Kabbalah. Pythagoras. Theatre (own). Singing. Church service and singing. Various ceremonies. Pocket watch and chronometers. Plastrons. Women, but only of my favourite type. Women's sexual physiology. Silence"

"Their noses and mouths had the same expression of seeking an intimacy that is not carnal".

[Sahar · Rating 4 out of 5]

"هرگاه کنارش می‌ایستادم- چه در معنای استعاری کلمه چه به طور فیزیکی- خاطرم قرصِ قرص می‌شد. مدام می‌گفت زمان همه چیز را روشن می‌کند. جوری این را می‌گفت که من پیش خودم فرض می‌گرفتم زمان درست همان اتفاق هایی را مقدر خواهد کرد که هردو دوست داریم پیش بیایند."

[Emma · Rating 5 out of 5]

Holy shit

[İrem Hira Yuca Vurucu · Rating 3 out of 5]

Marquez’in hayatını okurken özellikle Kolombiya’ya uğradığım için şu incecik Berger’e bi bakmak istedim. Çok önemli bi şey anlatıyor mu derseniz, yoo. Zorunda mı, asla. Hem de bir şehre ancak onun bakabileceği gözlerden bakmak da hep güzel. Çocukluğun hayranlığı - ailenin “bir baltaya sap olamamış” amcasının peşinden bu bir zamanların en entellektüel merkezlerinden birinde yaptığı gezinti. Kumaş ararken bile yazdıkları güzel geliyor gerçekten.

[Adéla · Rating 4 out of 5]

Maličká jednohubka plná sugesce, umění, krásy, pomalosti, Bologni a sluníčka. Toto dílo dosvědčuje, že málo je někdy více. Každé slovo vyvolává ty správné věci, jak to dobrá literatura má umět a v tomto případě umí.

[Ioulia Ilvanidou · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5

[Leylak Dalı · Rating 4 out of 5]

Kısacık ama çok hoş bir kitap bu. John Berger kaybettiği amcasının izini Bologna'da sürüyor, şehri görmüş kadar oluyor, görmeden seviyorsunuz...

[Patricia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Each short page was like a poem.

In one of many phrases to which Berger imparts his own personal, paradigm-rearranging slant: "Time will tell he used to say, and he said this in such a way that I assumed time would tell what we would finally be glad to hear."

This sentence is an important moment in the book's dialog between hope and desolation. There is hope that time will bring us good news and on the other hand, there is the wall of martyrs' photos, looking confident, a confidence painful to the visitor who knows what happened to so many of the anti-fascist partisans. Berger quotes Pasolini, "The light . . . of the future doesn't cease for even an instant/ to wound us ." Berger brings hope and desolation together in a way that I'm still trying to get my head around when he says that both martyrdom and "the pursuit of little refined pleasures. . . defy the cruelties of life."

Right after I read Berger, I picked up Natalia's Ginzburg's essay "Winter in Abruzzo," She marvels that the horror of her husband's death in prison could happen to the same people who bought oranges and walked in the snow. She goes on to say she didn't know their exile was really the happiest time of their lives.

Thinking about the injustice and tragedy of those lives cut short. Thinking about how little joys are also courageous.

[Emily · Rating 4 out of 5]

Berger writes with all the subtlety and sensitivity to place that you would expect from him. This beautifully short book, written in small paragraphs, vignettes of Bologna and his uncle, shifts between the two, resulting in a poignant and well synthesised homage to both. His respect and understanding of his uncle made me think about some of my own family members and realise how much I look up to them too. I'm glad it's such a short little book as it means I'll be able to reread it whenever I want to, which will hopefully be soon. Really recommend. Also watch his BBC series 'Ways of Seeing' on Youtube.

[Álvaro · Rating 4 out of 5]

3 y pico, que redondeo a 4.

Un libro mínimo. Menos que un relato, incluso. Pocos renglones en pocas páginas.

Se lee en apenas 25 minutos. Es una especie de recuerdo poético de un familiar y de una ciudad. Si conocéis Bolonia os gustará, porque sugiere esa sensación de lugar inasible, que esconde más que da.
Me ha abierto el apetito para leer más de Berger, probablemente su obra sobre los pintores.

[Oğuz Kayra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gittiğim şehirler hakkında yazılan kurgu veya kurgu dışı kitapları çok seviyorum. Bologna cidden inanılmaz keyifli bir şehir. Edgar Amca ile Maggiore Meydanında muhabbet etmek çok isterdim.

«Bir akşam St. Malo'da, yatmadan önce amcam bir kadeh Benedictine içerken, Tanrı söylenmeyendir, diye mırıldanmıştı.»

[Shaghayegh.l3 · Rating 2 out of 5]

از آخرین باری که حواسم رو کامل دادم به یه کتاب خیلی می‌گذره. این داستان هم با اینکه کوتاه بود و جمله‌های روون و ساده‌ای داشت بازم ذهنمو آروم نکرد و باید قید کتاب خوندن رو همچنان بزنم و خودمو مجبور نکنم. می‌تونست داستان خوبی باشه اما در حال حاضر هیچ حسی به کلمه‌هایی که خوندم ندارم. به امید روزهای بهتر و داشتن دل و دماغ واسه‌ی همه‌مون.