Little Big Man by Thomas Berger - “Ferocious fun”- in the words of the dying Cheyenne

 Little Big Man by Thomas Berger

“Ferocious fun”- in the words of the dying Cheyenne

This is a strange, wonderful, epic, entertaining and terrifying novel.

These are just a few characterizations that came to mind at the start of this note, but it is by no means all.

It is a complex, elevated work, not in spite of the fact that the story teller has a feeble grasp of grammar and often says- “they was” and that sort of thing, but also on account of that incredible mastery of writing which allows the author to make use of a simple speech with such exalting effects.

In my case, I am somewhat overwhelmed by the powerful messages residing in this chef d’oeuvre and find it difficult to try and arrange, order somewhat the emotions and thoughts that pop up at the end of this long book.

The characters are fascinating; the plot is more than absorbing, the Indian presence offers food for thought and meditation, inviting the white man to humbly think about many of his really comic preoccupations, once we consider them from the point of view of the Cheyenne, the Human Beings.

The Cheyenne and other Native Americans found it hard to comprehend many of the aspects of the white man’s life.

Indians- let me call them like in the book- would never fight within their tribe – unless, as at the beginning of the book, they are drunk- and could not fathom how the white people killed each other.

Then there is the rush for gold, or “digging in yellow sand” as the Cheyenne put it, which does not have much sense if you think about it.

Of course, many of the things that the Human Beings did are not just nonsensical to us, but plain cruel and barbarous.

Unless, again, we consider what we call today cultural difference and then we might look with more understanding, but still could not accept the scalping, mutilation of bodies and many other such acts.

There is however a looming issue and I empathize with the hero, who is white, but feels torn between his own race and the Cheyenne, his adopted family.

There are many things done by the Human Beings, as the Cheyenne call themselves that are despicable and make me feel alien amongst them, like the killing and eating of dogs, to give another example.

But their naiveté, primitivism and lack of concern with so much of what the western- at least- world holds dear is endearing.

Their philosophy does question the fundamentals upon which our way of life rest and the Indian thinking is the superior one more often than not.

We are too concerned with speed and rushing, which is not just pointless, but without meaning for the Indians.

They have not invented the wheel and they have a different notion of time, without the pressure we live under all the time.

If I conclude here, before the end of the note, I would say that a Cheyenne life was more intense, better, more meaningful, satisfying and transcendent than the modern life, which is spent always on the rush, without a moment to stop and think about…well, anything.

Having said that, the thought of having to wash in the cold river- for the Indians, most of them, did wash- does not make me want to change my comfort and go into the Alaskan wild.

Perhaps there is a man I know that lives that kind of adventure, for I had a high school mate, who was obsessed with Indians and he might have departed for one of their reservations.

There are many lessons on happiness in this book, from a completely different perspective, that of the Cheyenne also known as The Human Beings.

Do we need to live under so much pressure- of time, rat race, material gain, climbing up the ladder? Not according to the Cheyenne of this marvelous book