Ryszard Kapuściński (born in Pińsk, today part of Belarus in 1932) is one of the most eminent and prolific journalists to come from Poland. He was best known for his incisive reportages on the great empires of the world, from Haile Selassie’s terrifying dictatorship in Ethipia and the overthrow of the Shah of Iran to the stories of bloodshed in uprisings Ghana and Rwanda and the birth of a new Russia. After his passing in 2007 the world's media bowed down to the legacy of this great writer, yet many critics littered their praise with reservations about the accuracy of Kapuściński's reports and his tendency to colour his narratives.
The recent volume by a journalist and colleague of Kapuściński's, is rather bent on the latter theme, delving deep into his subject's weaknesses both as a writer - and as a husband and father. Originally published in Poland in 2010, it was ushered in with a significant degree of uproar given its iconoclastic tinge. Since then the book has been translated into Spanish, French, Hungarian and Italian. Its American release is scheduled for early July 2012, published by Verso books, with the Dutch edition currently in preparation.
The distinguished sociologist and scholar Zygmunt Bauman called the original Polish edition "A great book about a great man". The first reviews of the book are already in, starting with a lengthy piece in the Columbia Journalism Review. The publisher's website quotes the publication as deeming the work "Exhaustive and focused … substantial and interesting ... a real contribution to our understanding of Kapuściński". Yet the piece at large suggests that the exhaustive aspect of Domosławski's research makes for a rather dry laundry list of facts, dates and - most of all - doubts compiled in a stack of over 450 pages. Through a survey of Kapuściński's private papers and those who knew him (some well, some just barely) Domosławski extends the inquiry into how honest Kapuściński was in his drawing up his heartfelt narratives of an Africa that could finally understood by Europe and the rest of the world. He finds evidence to assert that in spite of Kapuściński's detailed descriptions of Selassie’s palace, the reporter had never actually set foot inside.
CJR's Ted Conover also cites an episode when a fellow journalist criticised Kapuściński for misreporting the facts and Kapuściński's heated reply: "You don’t understand a thing! I’m not writing so the details add up - the point is the essence of the matter". Domosławski expresses some anguish at blackening the name of this literary legend and then rationalises his deed, insisting that perhaps "a portrait of Kapuscinski in which frailties and flaws are visible is more genuine than a beatified icon…isn’t this version of Kapuscinski more interesting than the one that is flattered to death?"
Conover appears to agree in a certain sense, but assesses overall that "it is not especially enjoyable to read". He writes,
One imagines "the master’s" ghost uneasy as his reputation is challenged once again by ideology - this time the ideology of factuality, of literal-mindedness. It happens to be an ideology to which I subscribe. So why do I flinch upon seeing Kapuscinski subjected to its rigors? Maybe because I like a good story, and enjoyed reading those books, and never assumed them to be perfectly true.
A strong theme in Kapuściński's work has been to use draconian dictatorships as an allegory for the Polish state under communism. As a man brought up in a time of tumultuous Polish history, the search for identity and the need to understand the human side of politics and war was the lifeblood of his work and the golden vein of his narratives. This is the focus of the June 24th review in The Economist, which praises Domosławski's drive for serious inquiry and the "insights and evidence" he uncovers along the way that comes together as "an exemplary explanation of what made Kapuścinski tick".
The Economist writes,
The experience of arbitrary power and then political change at home did much to shape his understanding of events abroad. His sympathy for victims of colonialism in Africa reflected Poland’s captivity in the Soviet empire. His depiction of the absurdities of the shah’s Iran was a clear critique of decaying Polish bureaucratic socialism.
Domosławski paints an indiscriminate picture of Kapuściński as a pawn to the communist bureaucrats - but how else could a journalist in those days otherwise get funding to travel around Africa and report on some of the biggest stories of the day? Kapuściński was among the most impoverished of his breed - often going hungry for days, living in spare quarters among the locals, nearly dying of Malaria, learning English along the way. The picture painted by Domosławski, according to the review in the Economist, is that of a man "slippery about his own beliefs, careless with facts, a loyal servant of a totalitarian regime, and cruel to those who loved him". His failings as an unfaithful husband and neglectful father also get considerable attention in Domosławski's analysis.
The Economist praises translator Antonia Lloyd-Jones for her ability to 'makes the sweep and tone of Mr Domoslawski’s Polish readable, without sacrificing its curious, to English eyes, use of the present tense and rhetorical questions".
A review for The Guardian written by Agata Pyzik notes the book's thrilling aspect: " (...) the constant speculation about the level of Kapuściński's engagement with the regime means that this biography reads at times like a John le Carré novel. The question of identity, of image, of truth, of confabulation, shifts constantly and gains new meanings, turning the book into a quest for Kapuściński's personality. Who was he? Not even his family or close friends are really able to answer."
The tricky instance of an unauthorised posthumous tell-all about a man who cannot come to his own defense is cited as the most painful part of this book. Yet Kapuściński's wife and children are still alive and have come forward as victims of revelations that they would have wished to have otherwise remained in the private realm. Even months before the Polish edition was released Alicja Kapuścińska filed a suit to halt its publication. The publication went through, but the trial contra Domosławski is still in the courts.
The Guardian review concludes:
In a way, the system left no option other than to be both victim and beneficiary – in post-communist Poland there was little space for nuance. The earlier reporter wrote a complex version of history; the feted Kapuscinski of the new Poland was unable to do so. But Domosławski's book brings back the authentic voice of the reporter and hero, and if only for that, it is a truly great achievement.
Peter Englund, who is part of the board of the Nobel Literary Award devotes a detailed essay on the recent biography in an article entitled Fact and Fiction written for the Financial Times in August 2012. Englund states:
Until his death from a heart attack in early 2007, Kapuscinski was often mentioned as a candidate for the Nobel Prize in Literature – and, as a member of the body that awards it, I can say he came very close indeed.
Englund acknowledges the work pursued by Domosławski and writes of the biography:
it is clearly not a hagiography. At the same time, the book is informed by a genuine desire to understand its subject – never an easy task and particularly difficult in the case of a man such as Kapuscinski, who was as complex as he was talented, and also elusive and prone to exaggeration.(...) Domoslawski provides perspective both on Kapuscinski’s enduring membership of the Communist party and his much more fleeting engagements for Polish intelligence, and he leaves you with a sense of what went on in the head of this man. It becomes more difficult when we turn to the other dark side of Kapuscinski, the confabulations.(...)
Kapuscinski was prone to self-dramatisation, and also had what in the book is referred to as a “catastrophist” mindset. All this combined into a penchant for embellishing what he had seen and done. It could be seen as an all-too-human failing. But a pattern emerges. Especially after Kapuscinski had become a celebrated world reporter, many of these confabulations became a part of his persona. No, he didn’t befriend Che Guevara – he hadn’t even met him. But that “fact” and others like it were repeated in high-profile interviews and on book covers, and he never had them corrected.
Ryszard Kapuscinski: A Life
Artur Domoslawski (Translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones)
Hardcover: 464 pages
Publisher: Verso - 1 edition (July 10, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 184467858X
ISBN-13: 978-1844678587
Artur Domosławski writes on international politics for Poland's Polityka weekly and the Polish edition of Le Monde diplomatique and works as a correspondent Gazeta Wyborcza. In 2010 he received Poland’s prestigious Journalist of the Year Award and was named a Knight Fellow at Stanford University in 2005–6. He is the author of five books and is currently working on a book about contemporary Latin America.
Author: Agnieszka Le Nart
Source: Verso, The Economist, Columbia Journalism Review
For more information, see www.versobooks.com/books/1091-ryszard-kapuscinski
