Four days into reading 'G.' and I'm only 62 pages in. Ugh. I could make excuses (I'm on pain killers, I had knitting club, there was a hockey game, the guy sitting next to me on the bus Would. Not. Shut. Up.) but the truth is I'm just not enjoying this book. Which makes me sad, so I'm hoping it's just a slow starter and within the next five pages it will totally grab me, then I'll stay up reading all night and 8 am will find me cursing my alarm clock and trying to justify taking a sick day to continue reading.
Ya, I don't think it's very likely.
I was really looking forward to "the story of G., a young man forging an energetic sexual career in Europe during the early years of this century" (from the book jacket). It sounds engaging and salacious; cultured, yet racy enough that I would blush to admit that I'm even reading it. So far, not so much. In fact, it just seems really pretentious. This novel is making me feel stupid and uncultured.
I can't figure out the narrative voice, for one thing. Berger keeps referring to "the principle protagonist of this book" which has me screaming 'Show, don't tell!' every time. It feels so clumsy, as though this was a working draft he accidentally sent to the publisher. There is a passage in the second chapter that really bothered me:
"Who are you? he asks the old man.
The old man comes to the bed and sits on it. In face of the arrested time just ending, the boy may be as old as the man.
What the old man says I do not know.
What the boy says in reply I do not know.
To pretend to know would be to schematize.
Meanwhile development is so retarded, progress and consequence so slow that the determination not to cry out is left inviolate. It can endure for hours."
Followed a bit later by:
"Everything you write is a schema. You are the most schematic of writers. It is like a theorem.
Not beyond a certain point.
What point?
Beyond the point where the curtains are drawn back.
Come back to the boy.
Who says that?
The old man does.
What does the boy feel?
Ask the old man."
Who is telling this story, and why are they arguing with themselves? I've read that section three times, and it makes no sense to me from a story-telling perspective. The most I can say for it is that I completely empathize with the "development is so retarded, progress and consequence so slow that the determination not to cry out is left inviolate. It can endure for hours." because that's how I'm feeling about this story. Get on with it, already!! Oh, and the scene with the horse and "Two Men"?? What was that???
The relationships between the characters are all interesting, at least. Particularly the 'principal protagonist's' parents (who doesn't love alliteration!) have a neat love/hate thing going on, and his relationship with Miss Helen was very realistic (although I do feel a bit scandalized by the description of a five year old masturbating).
The political undercurrents, while not subtle, are also interesting. However, I suspect that my background education in European fascism and Marxism are not thorough enough to truly appreciate the politics of the novel. Perhaps if I weren't reading this on a schedule I would take some time to research the fundamentals and hard facts in hopes of a deeper understanding, but seeing how much I'm enjoying the novel based on it's own merits (!!!) I rather doubt that I would bother.
My general impression so far is that 'G.' is a work of "art" - but in a bad, stuffy, elitist way. My darling Father always says, "It's art, don't touch it". I believe Art should, however, touch you - it should bring you to a greater sense of beauty, truth, self, life, something! Art should be alive, and so I hold out hope that this novel finds a way to truly engage me. Otherwise, this could be a really long weekend.
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