Michelle Bailat-Jones

Writer, Translator, Reader

I like a good story and distinctive imagery in the books that I read, but I am always impressed with unique narrative texture. Give me a book that does something different with its narrative perspective and I’m immediately interested in understanding how that unique narrator influences the story as a whole. Books like Alice McDermott’s Charming Billy or That Night with their strangely effaced first person narrators telling a story which belongs to someone else, or Gordimer’s The Conservationist with its acute third person speaking directly to another character are some favorite examples.

When I first read John Berger’s To the Wedding several years ago it was this aspect of the book that first caught my attention. One of the narrators, the one who completes the story in full, is a blind street peddler the main characters cross paths with only once while visiting Greece. The effect is then layered because they encounter him at an advanced point in their story. Although it isn’t presented that way to the reader, of course. We meet this narrator right away, and then he moves us backward with omniscient powers to catch the reader up.

I mentioned before that there is a magical, almost fairytale-like quality to this novel, and this mainly comes from this narrator and his godlike ability to see the past and future actions of the novel’s characters. I wondered a lot when I first read the book why Berger would use such a perspective, mainly because at first glance it seems an almost arbitrary choice. Why involve an outside character as a narrator, especially a character who has one conversation with another character and then remains completely outside the story? In another country even.

To get further into this, it is important to know a bit more about the story. When the novel opens, Jean is at a market stand buying a tamata, a kind of healing charm and prayer offering, from the street peddler in Athens. We learn through their short conversation that Ninon, Jean’s daughter, a woman in her twenties, is very ill. Deathly ill. The scene then shifts, jumping back in time to Ninon’s childhood and moving forward to her young adulthood. Throughout these flashbacks, the reader is given other scenes as Jean and Zdena, Ninon’s mother, who has been separated from Jean since Ninon was a young girl, begin preparations for their daughter’s wedding. The event will take place in Italy and so both parties are traveling across Europe to meet up for the celebration.

Slowly, as the characters travel, as the past comes forward, Ninon’s tragedy is revealed. I won’t give it away here, because it does come as a surprise when it is finally explained. But it is within her tragedy that the Greek peddler’s voice becomes relevant to the story. At least this is how I finally settled it. Despite the fact that his voice is compelling and highly effective, no one else could tell her story with as much empathy as a man who was not always blind but is now condemned to a life of darkness and helplessness.

The novel doesn’t belong exclusively to Ninon and her fiancé Gino. It is also about Jean and Zdena, who are meeting again after ten years to confront their daughter’s tragedy. It is about Gino’s courageous optimism, his father Federico’s painful but practical resignation. And it is about unexpected calamities and how humans navigate such treacherous waters.

Besides the intricate narrative stance and Berger’s simply stunning imagery, I loved how the novel combined hints of the fantastic and ethereal descriptions with down-to-earth characters and dialogue. The mixture of these two moods created something very special. It transformed the novel modern fable, able to discuss a certain horror while maintaining moments of pure elegance.

10 Responses to “John Berger – To the Wedding”

  1. Lilian Nattel

    This sounds fascinating–I’m going to put it on my list. I wonder if part of the choice had to do with the tradition of the Greek chorus?

    • verbivore

      I think you would like it, Lilian. Such a good question about the Greek chorus, that is an interesting thought. I’m not sure if it was part of what Berger was going for, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on it if you do read the book.

      • Chad Sokol

        While I don’t think it’s necessarily the Greek chorus, the novel is filled with classical allusion such as references to the works of Homer, Sophocles and Euripides. Also, Tsobanakos’ character parallels that of Tyresius, the blind – yet somehow omniscient – prophet who appears often in Greek mythology.

  2. litlove

    This sounds amazing. It took me a little while to figure out the relationships as I read Jean at first to be a woman. Duh! But I did see my mistake. I’m very tempted to get hold of this after your excellent review.

    • verbivore

      Well, reading the book doesn’t necessarily help with the relationships either. The first time I read it, I had to do a little backtracking to make sure I knew who was who. This is part of how Berger structures the novel, in short little descriptive flashes, and how he changes POV. But it is an amazing work of fiction. Reminds me of Gabriel Josipovici in style.

  3. Colleen

    I read this about 15 years ago and loved it. I still get a bit red around the nose and eyes when I think of the little turtle swimming out to sea for the last time…You know what scene I mean. Waaah!

    • verbivore

      Absolutely! It’s a book with a huge emotional impact. And so well done. I’m sure I will read it again someday.

  4. theresakishkan

    Not sure how I arrived here but lovely to read such an intelligent appreciation of one of my favourite books. Thank you.

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