Inspiring Older Readers

posted on 25 Jan 2026

The Foot of Clive by John Berger

I first encountered the writing of John Berger back in the 1970s and it was his documentary writing, his political theory and, in particular, his art and cultural criticism that impressed. I was also aware that he wrote novels but, in all honesty, I could never really get along with them. But it is, I suppose, a measure of my general regard for the body of Berger’s work that I kept some of those novels on my shelf – after all, his 1972 offering, G, won the Booker Prize in that year. Perhaps, I thought the other day, I’ve underestimated his work as a novelist all these years. I located what I had on the shelf and, almost at random, took down his 1962 publication, The Foot of Clive.

The title refers to an NHS hospital ward – Clive Ward – and to the five patients (all white and all male) who inhabit the bottom end, the foot of Clive as it were. The action (although that’s something of a misnomer) all takes place within the confines of this hospital ward. Initially, we are shown the interaction between the patients – the frail camaraderie, the tensions barely beneath the surface, suspicion of foreigners and the inevitable fraught antagonisms. It’s as if Berger gives us a figurative laboratory in which to study issues like class, inter-generational tensions, personal interaction, institutionalisation – all delivered with the detailed eye of a painter. It almost feels like you’ve settled down with a sociology text from a study conducted in the early 1960s but one which has been drawn up by an artist with a gimlet eye for detail.

But the comparative ‘ordinariness’ of this sample of British attitudes is abruptly thrown into quite a different relief when Berger lobs an interesting little bomb into the mix. The patients in the foot of Clive are suddenly joined by Jack House, a murderer who has been injured and needs hospitalisation before he can be jailed. Accompanied by a police escort that sits behind the curtains drawn around his bed, the presence of House acts as a sort of catalyst, sending the discussions between the other patients into overdrive. The views on the way House should be treated and what should happen to him comes to dominate the conversations and internal monologues of the individual patients, who find they have to reassess their own take on the world and their own personal histories. At this point, public and personal morality as well as public and personal responsibility comes to dominate.

The book is barely longer than a substantial novella but I have to say that I’m still not convinced that Berger is a novelist. If you’re being generous, you might say that this is very much a ‘novel of ideas’ but I think it would be equally fair to say that it’s dreadfully static and lacks any sort of forward momentum. Berger is always interested in experimental approaches to presenting narrative and there are times when the internal world of the patients slips into a sort of stream of consciousness that gives the whole a feeling of a slightly hallucinogenic experience – but one confined within the strict laws of the world inside the hospital wall.

I’m sure that this is a book that hasn’t worn well over time – what might have been daringly experimental and challenging in 1962 looks a little less so now that the issues at its heart feel somewhat historically dated. My advice would be that if you want to read some Berger, go for the non-fiction.

 

Terry Potter

January 2026