During a long journey from Melbourne to Luxembourg, with no less than three stopovers, I had the pleasure of reading Nikos Papastergiadis’ recent book, John Berger and Me. I found it difficult to put the book down. In my view, the book deserves to be nominated for the various book prizes that are on offer in Australia and internationally –it is a book of exceptional creativity and quality.

The book has the potential to garner the widest possible audience, not only among scholars interested in John Berger and the cultural politics of the arts, but also more generally those interested in his most fascinating life, his critical relationship to the forces of modernity on the one hand and his ability to enjoy the abundant beauties of nature and a simpler rural life on the other.

The parallels Papastergiadis draws between his own experiences of migration and that of Berger in this book are not only beautifully portrayed but also deeply insightful in ways that few other books on migration I have read over a career spanning forty years.

The stories the book tells of the richness and challenges of migrant experiences are seldom found in books of non-fiction. The contrast Papastergiadis draws between the store of theoretical knowledge that Berger had and the reserves of practical knowledge his father had is eloquently presented. Compelling though this contrast is, truly impressive is Papastergiadis’ way of refusing the superiority of one form of knowledge over the other. Berger could have and would have enjoyed learning a great deal from Papastergiadis’ father!

The book cover. Photo: Supplied

As the title of the book indicates, ‘John Berger and Me’, this is a very personal account of the relationship between Berger and Papastergiadis, but ultimately the book is also analytically rich, providing a most accessible introduction of Berger’s ‘ways of seeing’, his complex relationship to English traditions, his understanding of the role of the arts in society, his perspectives on modernity and beyond, and his concern for the ordinary things of life. Also fascinating is Papastergiadis’s struggle to comprehend the rhythms of Berger’s complex family life and see beauty in the ways in which Berger took pleasure in the routines of his domesticity.

This is a truly reflexive book in which we do not only learn about Berger but also Papastergiadis’ own personal and academic journey through mobilities, physical and cultural as well as political. From the various vignettes we learn about Papastergiadis, his upbringing as Greek-Australian, his development as a young scholar, his time at Cambridge where he did his doctorate but above all his relationship with Berger developed through the annual visits he made to Berger’s village through the course of the 1990s, working alongside him on the daily chores of European farm life. Papastergiadis provides an incredibly honest account, admitting freely the role that Berger has played in making him the distinguished scholar that he has now become.

There is much more that could be said about this important book, such is the richness of the stories it tells. It is its freewheeling narrative that makes the book easy to read. Implicitly, it encourages others to think about their own personal journeys of mobility and personal growth. It has certainly encouraged me to think more deeply about my own journey from India to a White Australia in the 1960s, and how my experiences of migration too have been shaped by significant people, though clearly not as notable as Berger.

– John Berger and Me is published by Giramondo Press.

*Fazal Rizvi is Emeritus Professor at the University of Melbourne, Australia.