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G Book Review > TL;DR
G by John Berger, winner of the 1972 Booker Prize, is both a baffling and brilliant novel. Combining the story of a European libertine with intense historical backdrops like the Boer War, Garibaldi’s revolutionary legacy, and the Western Front, it’s a complex, fragmented reading experience. Some sections are near unreadable; others are arresting in their emotional and intellectual force. The prose in the G Booker Prize novel often swerves between dazzling and exasperating, blending fiction with philosophical inquiry and even occasional sketches.
Readers will either be enthralled or alienated by Berger’s refusal to offer a conventional plot or likeable protagonist. G, the central character, moves obliviously through sex and history, while the author interrogates meaning, desire, and narrative itself. For patient readers prepared to navigate its stylistic challenges and postmodern flourishes, G rewards serious attention. For others, it may prove a slog. Either way, it remains a singular Booker Prize winner—one that still provokes strong responses over 50 years later.
First Thoughts
From my Booker Prize reading project research, if there’s one winner considered ‘unreadable’, it’s John Berger’s G. The name crops up regularly in discussions about the least approachable or most difficult of the winners. Despite this reputation, I finished it—and even enjoyed parts of it. If nothing else, I was surprised at just how many different kinds of book G tries to be.
Published in 1972, G feels very much a product of its time. Its narrative follows G, a monied European Don Juan figure moving through England and Italy, seemingly immune to the chaos erupting around him. Erotic encounters—accompanied by graphic, even absurd, anatomical illustrations—sit alongside deeper political and social commentary. It’s jarring at times, but also strangely compelling.
While G’s personal story felt thin and repetitive, the novel shines when it steps back. Descriptions of early aviation feats, revolutionary uprisings, or the horrors of the Western Front carry an emotional and historical weight the main character often lacks. One standout section alternates between G’s seduction of a married woman and the mass slaughter on the Somme. Harrowing and brilliant, this juxtaposition offered some of the most memorable pages I’ve read in this project. Still, it’s not a book I’d recommend lightly—there are caveats aplenty.
About the Book
First published in 1972, G by John Berger won that year’s Booker Prize, now the most prestigious UK literary award for fiction. Its central figure, Giovanni—or G—is the illegitimate son of an Englishwoman and an Italian businessman. G grows into a seducer, drifting through Europe in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, seemingly untouched by history. He’s not so much a character as a cipher, a vehicle for Berger’s broader explorations. Superficially it should share the same stable as Queer, but they are very different books, with Queer being the much easier read. Most other William Burroughs, however, does share the focus on sex, if not on historical context.
But G is far more than a Don Juan pastiche. Berger overlays momentous historical events—Garibaldi’s campaigns, the Boer War, early aviation milestones, the First World War—with G’s erotic adventures and philosophical interludes. The novel is intentionally fragmented, switching voices and perspectives, and often breaking the fourth wall.
Berger’s background as an art critic informs the novel’s structure and themes. His use of visual elements, postmodern commentary, and abrupt stylistic changes reflect a deliberate interrogation of storytelling itself. Perhaps even more famous than the book is Berger’s Booker Prize acceptance speech, where he criticised the award’s sponsor and pledged half the prize money to the Black Panthers. That act, as much as the novel itself, helped G gain its place in literary history.
What Others Think
Reactions to G remain deeply polarised. Some readers find it intellectually rich and stylistically daring; others see it as pretentious, dated, or even laughable.
In The Reading Bug, the reviewer focuses on Berger’s approach to sex and gender, noting how G is saturated with implausible erotic scenes told entirely from a male perspective. They cite several cringeworthy passages and highlight Berger’s lack of empathy with women, questioning how someone associated with coining the concept of the “male gaze” could write such tone-deaf material. The reviewer also critiques the postmodern elements—authorial interjections and symbolic metaphors—as clumsy rather than innovative.
Fantasy Book Critic takes a more appreciative view. While acknowledging the novel’s structural challenges, the reviewer praises its lyrical prose, historical scope, and the richness of Berger’s ideas. G is seen less as a protagonist and more as a lens through which to observe revolutionary Europe, and the novel’s shifting perspectives and layered narrative are described as rewarding—so long as readers are willing to concentrate.
The Guardian acknowledges that G can be difficult but insists it rewards deep reading. The review suggests readers aren’t meant to sympathise with G but rather to engage with the ideas and historical currents around him. The novel’s seriousness of purpose, philosophical ambition, and refusal to entertain in traditional ways are all cited as reasons why G still matters—even if few read it today.
Themes, Style & Impact
G is an unconventional novel, and its ambition lies not in telling a satisfying story but in challenging the nature of storytelling itself. Berger is less interested in G the character than in exploring how individuals—particularly men—move through history with a kind of unconscious privilege, oblivious to the suffering around them. G’s sexual escapades are contrasted against revolutions, wars, and social upheavals.
A key theme is disconnection: between self and society, between desire and consequence, between the personal and the political. Berger layers the novel with musings on language, representation, and art, often interrupting the narrative to ask philosophical questions or comment on his own writing. These intrusions can frustrate but are part of the book’s deliberate structure.
Stylistically, G is fragmented and metafictional. It demands attention and rewards it inconsistently. But Berger’s background in art criticism gives the prose a painterly, symbolic quality, especially in the descriptive passages. His use of images—literal drawings, metaphorical flourishes, and visual motifs—adds texture to a dense, challenging work.
Although G is now rarely discussed outside Booker retrospectives, its influence persists. Tom McCarthy’s C, another Booker-shortlisted novel, borrows heavily from G’s structure and philosophical tone. Berger’s own legacy as a political thinker and visual theorist also ensures G continues to be studied, even if it’s no longer widely read.
G by John Berger > Final Thoughts
G is unlikely to be a favourite for many readers. It’s dense, opaque, and often feels more like a thought experiment than a novel. Yet, for those interested in the edges of literary form, it’s a fascinating—and at times frustrating—example of 1970s experimental fiction.
For me, the book’s value lies not in its central character, who remains a deliberately blank figure, but in the historical juxtapositions and stylistic risks Berger takes. Some sections—especially those set against the backdrop of war—are genuinely moving. Others are overwritten, intellectually smug, or just bewildering.
Still, G holds a strange kind of power. It’s a novel that demands readers meet it on its own terms. I wouldn’t recommend it without a lengthy caveat, but I am glad I read it. As a piece of Booker Prize history, and as a glimpse into a very particular moment in literary ambition, G earns its place—though not, perhaps, its place on your bedside table.
Further Reading
- Amsterdam by Ian McEwan – Another Booker Prize winner often discussed for its divisive reputation and exploration of morality.
- C by Tom McCarthy – Structurally indebted to G, with a similarly fragmented narrative and philosophical scope.
- Henry Miller – For readers curious about literary erotica paired with philosophical musings.
- William Burroughs – Known for experimental structure and transgressive themes, much like Berger’s approach in G.