I once met Edward Said early on in my Phd candidature. I told him about my research and he extolled the virtues of John Berger, but then added: “Whatever you do, just don’t go to visit him there. There are pigs and shit everywhere.” I said, “it sounds like my father’s village.” It was not a turn off to me. Once I got there, I didn’t see any pigs. The pig sty was empty. It later became a storeroom for all the books that John published. John, himself did not even keep copies of his books.