With the poetic acuity that renders his work timeless, Booker Prize-winning author John Berger brings us a twenty-four hour chronicle of homelessness. Beside a highway, in a wasteland furnished with smashed trucks and broken washing machines, lives a homeless community of once-hopeful individuals, now abandoned by the twentieth century.
King, our narrator, is the guardian of a homeless couple, stealing meat from the butcher and sharing the warmth of his flesh. His canine sensibility affords him both amnesty from human hardship and rare insight into his companions' lives. Through his senses we see--clearly and unsentimentally--the dignity and strength that can survive within chaos and pain.
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.
Mükemmel bir kurgu, hayatın içinden bir konu, can alıcı saptamalar ve bunlara uygun betimlemeler ve daha bir sürü güzel edebiyat olayları... Büyük binaların göz koyduğu bir gecekondu-yıkıntılar mahallesindeki hayat ve yıkımın başlaması anlatılıyor. “Kral” isimli bir köpek anlatıcımız, ama Kral bunu “insanca, pek insanca” anlatıyor. John Berger iyiki sanat tarihi eleştirmenliğinden öykü-roman, deneme yazarlığına “evrilmiş”. Lütfen okuma listenize alın.
Çok şahsi bir üslubu ve dili var. Bir şeylerin başka bir şeylerin üzerine devrilmesiyle ilerliyor hikaye. Unutma ve aklından bir türlü çıkaramama arasında bocalayıp kalmış bir halde sayıklayıp duran bir anlatı.
John Berger deyince akla ilk gelen Görme Biçimleri oluyor, hatta neredeyse her tür okur kitlesini kapsayan bir popülerliği var kitabın ama bu ün Görme Biçimleri'ne sıkışıp kalmış, yazarı aşmış, toz toprak altında bırakmış gibi. Oysa John Berger tanınması gereken bir yazar bana kalırsa. Karşıma her çıktığında farklı bir çehreye bürünüyor, beni şaşırtıyor ve heyecanlandırıyor. Tanıdıkça seviyor, sevdikçe daha çok tanımak istiyorum.
Hikayeye ve anlatıma bayıldım. Kral'ın gözünden sokaklar, insanlar, hayat, acılar, sevinçler. Bu kitabı bana ısrarla okutmaya çalışan, hatta dayanamayıp alan harika insan. Üç sene rötarla da olsa okudum. Ha derseniz ki sokaklar, acı, sefalet, dostluk, ayakta kalma mücadelesi okumak istemiyorum. O zaman başka kapıya... Saygılar.
When I received this book from a friend, he warned me that the end was devastating. In its way, it is. But the entire thing is a work of wonder. Empathy doesn't get much more exacting than this, and the late John Berger brought precisely the right touch to the proceedings.
John Berger has a sparse, uncomplicated, writing style, and the matter-of-fact way he discloses unexpected details can be devastating. For example, on the second page you are jolted with this:
"A month ago a gang of kids poured petrol over an old man who was sleeping in a street behind the Central Station and then they threw a match on to him. He woke up in flames."
The book chronicles the events of a single day in the life of a homeless couple called Vica and Vico, as seen through the eyes of King - a stray dog who befriends them and follows them around. He becomes their companion and our narrator. King tells us how his previous companion Luc committed suicide by jumping off a bridge. Then he describes the community of down-and-outs living on the 'scrap mountain' called Saint Valery, somewhere near a motorway in somewhen France, on which they eke out their existence scavenging. Saint Valery may be chosen as the site of a new Olympic Stadium, in which case contractors will move in and bulldoze their world...
This is an unforgettable book. It surprises you, moves you, and pricks your conscience. I'm ashamed to admit that one reason it caught me by surprise is that Vica and Vico aren't a pair of young drug addicts, they are an elderly couple, married for thirty years, who used to have a 'normal' life (whatever that means) but have ended up on this human scrapheap following redundancy. To society's shame, they are redundant. This is a day in the life of people literally living on a scrapheap, struggling to survive. As details of their lives are revealed, and their devotion to each other shines through, it breaks your heart. Even to be allowed to stay on the scrapheap they have to pay - and in order to raise the money, Vico sells his last possession, a camera...
"Do you want to know the photos I've taken with the camera you are holding in your hands?" asks Vico. "We are not interested" says the shopkeeper.
Is he including us, the readers, in that "we"? Are we interested in the life story of a 'tramp'? Do we care? This is the book that made me realize why so many homeless people seem to have dogs. it's because stray dogs recognize them as fellow outcasts. And because dogs don't discriminate - they see the human beings we choose not to, and befriend them.
This may not be the greatest novel of all time, but it is full of simple humanity and the triumph of the human spirit over adversity; and the way it haunts me and keeps drawing me back to re-read it make it one of my favourite books of all-time.
{Adapted from a review I posted on ciao.co.uk in March 2001}
Rating this book caused me a lot of internal conflict. And now here it is with its not-so-fancy two-star rating and you're probably wondering, "Well, Charlie, you obviously weren't impressed, so why the conflict?"
My explanation is this: Berger is an amazing writer. Some of the lines in this book are so beautifully written that I wish I'd kept King at its original three-star rating. But the problem is that when all was said and done, the quality of the writing didn't knock me over more than the characters disinterested me.
JB gives us a handful of vagrants and tells us of their life from the perspective of a dog. Well, I'm a cat person, so shame on me and shame on Berger for not catering to that side of me. Additionally, we're given these characters who are sad and forgotten by society and the truth is that I WANT to want to care about them and I don't. The majority of the characters are mentioned in the first chapter and that not really handled again until the end. King is dog, albeit a gracefully spoken and intelligent dog, but therein lies the problem: by being a dog, he in fact lacks humanity. And his owners, Vico and Vica are... what are they? Forgettable. Yes, they're homeless. Yes, that's a shame. But give me something to grasp here other than a throw away reference to not having had fire insurance and one of the character's real names from his past life.
Yes, the characters are insightful and well-spoken. Yes, if I was rating this book based on JB's writing alone, I'd probably give it a three (maybe a four, the guy's got a knack). But, in the end, when I'm left feeling like the book I've just read was an unentertaining mess of characters I didn't care for in a situation I couldn't (and hopefully never will have to) relate to, this book has earned two stars, no more, no less.
3.5 stars. This is another amazing book from an amazing author, but it's nowhere near as consistent as G. or his art criticism. The ending is very moving, and the protagonist is very memorable, but what makes Berger so great is his keen critical eye, which shines through less in this book than his other work. Still a great book --- and I finished it in two days, if that's any indication of its quality.
A thoughtful, ironic tale told first person by a dog who lives as a member of a homeless community. I have to wonder if the newer book Open Throat have been inspired by this one.
Berger okumaları şubat ayının ilk iki haftasının uğraşıydı. Devam ediyor. Düğüne, G (en az sevdiğim kitabı) ,Manzaralar'dan sonra şimdi Kral: Bir Sokak Hikayesi. Bir gecede okudum. 180 sayfa gibi.
Sokağı bir köpeğin dilinden anlatırken, bir yandan, en alttakilerin, yaşamın kıyısında kalanların nasıl görmezden gelindiğine ve gittikçe acımasızlaşan kapital dünyanın şekillenirken bu yaşam biçimini seçenleri yok etmesiyle ilgili bir kitap kanımca.
Köpekler çağı çok acımasız. Öte yandan 24 saatlik bir dilimde bir köpeğin ağzından bu hikayeyi dinlemek çok fantastik. Yine özenli seçilmiş cümleler, çok katmanlı kurgu ve elbette tuhaf metaforlar,tarihe gönderme yapan isimler... John Berger entellüektüelliğin ona verdiği bütün imkanları kurguya aktarmakta çok başarılı. Ya da ben çok severek okuyorum.
From the perspective of a dog, Berger offers a view of the world from the bottom. King, a street dog, has found his home among the marginalized who have built a small makeshift neighborhood in the un-"developed" space adjacent to a freeway. Beyond creating a narrative that focuses mainly on what King sees, hears, and smells along with his daily telepathic conversations with Vica and Vico, his owners so to speak, Berger weaves a pointed criticism of the modern dog-eat-dog society. In this piece of fiction, Berger aims to show what has always concerned him in his nonfiction works: that in our continual competition with each other over resources, land, money, and material acquisition we are systematically devouring ourselves. There are beasts among us and they are not the street dogs. In fact, you probably voted for the beasts.
Final: 4.7 "Aunque fue de todos nunca tuvo dueño que condicionara su razón de ser, libre como el viento era nuestro perro, nuestro y de la calle que lo vio nacer..." Alberto Cortés
Esta es la primera obra de ficción que leo de Berger y los resultados me han parecido... irregulares. Aunque es interesante leer la perspectiva en primera persona de un animal, en este caso de un perro, en una novela pienso que esta debe ser lo suficientemente inteligente como para hacerle olvidar al lector que se trata todo de un artificio. Esto se logra a medias echando mano de la muy bien desarrollada percepción del olfato en los perros, pero poco más que yo recuerde. Aparte de eso, es también un poco extraño que en algún punto de la novela se entienda que el perro se comunica con las personas del lugar mediante el lenguaje común, es decir: habla. La novela ocupa el espacio de un día en un vertedero ilegal con forma (según el perro) de abrigo ocupado por una variada serie de vagabundos. Es, pues, una novela que trata sobre la pobreza y el abuso despersonalizado que sufrirán al verse obligados a desalojar el territorio en el que malviven debido a la especulación inmobiliaria que vio en ese espacio un potencial que había que explotar a cualquier costo. Importa poco cuántos pobres haya que matar o condenar a un ostracismo incluso peor del que ya sufren. Es como la vida misma, así que inevitablemente es eso lo que uno esperaría que ocurra. El final es bastante bueno porque en algún momento el lector puede llegar a creer que la resistencia es posible y que el conjunto de pobres que todavía queda de pie aún puede salvarse, pero resulta ser todo una burda ilusión urdida por un narrador astuto (un perro, no lo olvidemos). La ruptura de la expectativa está bien conseguida. Los rasgos de lucidez que maneja Berger sobre el tema están salpicados en toda la novela y son las cosas con las que me quedo.
Hiru izar dituen arren, liburua gustau, gustau egin zait. Baina ez da gehien atsegin dudan liburu-generoa, eta horrek, dudarik gabe, bere eragina izan du izar-kopuruan. Gauza bat edo beste dela medio –opari eta gomendapenak, esaterako– aurten liburu kostunbrista dexente –asko!– irakurtzen ari naiz; hau, horietako bat. Modu laburrean, beraz, liburu hau Milkman da, Milkman liburu ona balitz. Hala ere, ez da Neguko Argiak ezta ere –genero kostunbrista atsegin baduzue, izugarrizko nobela; euskaraz, gainera–.
Pobreziaz eta klase sozialetaz diharduen nobela laburra, motz esanda; premisa izugarrizkoa baina labur –eta ez, bereziki, orri-kopuruari dagokionez– geratzen dena exekuzioan.
King nos narra la historia de aquellos seres olvidados por la sociedad, aquellos a quienes, a veces, muchas veces, preferimos no pensarlos; pero esta historia no es narrada por ellos. Esta historia es narrada desde la mirada de King, el perro de Vico y Vica, y desde su perspectiva nos va mostrando la vida de sus dueños y vecinos quienes, lamentablemente, serán víctimas de la ambición humana. Una historia triste, que te deja un pequeño hoyo en el corazón por el trasfondo social que lleva; sin embargo, siento que le faltó un poco más de ejecución, pues la historia pudo ser aún más conmovedora y, quizás así, transmitir más desgarradoramente el mensaje que el autor nos quería dar.
I read John Berger's Ways of Seeing years ago, and although I think about that book regularly, I hadn't considered any of his other books. To be honest, I didn't know he wrote so much, so when I saw this book at a thrift store I got a little excited.
But I assumed it was nonfiction because Ways of Seeing is a rather heady art book of nonfiction. But King is fiction. Granted, it's a pretty creative framing for fiction, a 24-hour story of homelessness through the lens of dog, but meh.
Although parts of this were beautifully written and phrased, by the time I got to the end (the last 20 pages) I was skimming it so quickly I couldn’t even tell you properly what happened. It was either amazingly clever or pretentious twaddle. Since I love Ways of Seeing, I will say it was amazingly clever and I’m just too thick to get it. I couldn’t work out who was saying what or to whom or why. Now Gaspode - there’s a good talking dog.
Esta novela está llena de mínimos detalles que abren zonas oscuras, quiebran discursos lineales, derraman hechos, sensaciones, sentimientos, preguntas e imágenes. A través de los ojos de King vamos a seguir la historia de Vico y su compañera Vica, y de aquellos que habitan este paisaje ignorado que va a dejar de ser ignorado para entrar en un proceso lucrativo y, en consecuencia, de progreso. El final es magnífico.
This unusual story is told in the first person by King, a dog of indeterminate breed and age. King has become the companion of a homeless elderly couple, and the story King tells is largely theirs. The book has a certain rhythm that's unique. It took me a few pages to fall into that rhythm, but once I did I realized this book was a treasure.
The streets are dressing up. All the streets will sing tonight. Some will get drunk. Others won't stop laughing. Some will dance without stopping once. This street will sit down to eat all night like a man. This one will arrange marriages like a woman. And this one which leads to a flight of steps will wait for its sailors to come home. - pg. 164-165
Y Berger lo hizo otra vez. Esa forma poética pero simple de contar las cosas, sin nunca perder el humor que ayuda a transitar y a contrastar con el dolor. King puede contarse como un anexo de la trilogía, un pequeño comentario que juega en el mismo universo. El capítulo final es Perfecto y se puede leer por si solo como un cuento
A beautiful, poetic, and intoxicating book. Surreal and ethereal at times. Now and then I wanted more of a story or plot to move the pages along, but when I slowed down and took in Berger's spirit, I was most content. Who knew a dog narrator book could be so good?