Ryszard Kapuscinski : Truth or Lies?

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Firstly a correction. I said a couple of posts ago that the poetry reading organised by Griffin books in Penarth and featuring Carol Ann Duffy was going to be in May. In fact it's in June. And, work permitting I intend to go, becoming if it occurs the first poetry reading I've ever attended.

Anyway I've finished the Penguin pocket book of Ryszard Kapuscinski's An Advertisement For Toothpaste, a collection of four non fiction essays from the early sixties set mainly in the Polish countryside unlike the work across the globe that he's remembered for.

He was a journalist in when Poland was Communist. And the thing with him is that with his book The Emperor he became to my knowledge the only non fiction Communist writer translated into mainstream fiction in Britain. In that sense he was unique

As I said when I bought this book there is a feeling of trepidation surrounding it. As since I last read one of his works decades ago allegations have surfaced with regard to the veracity of his writings. I'm not sure, in Wales over half a century later, whether I read fiction or non fiction. "Magical journalism" which is how he described his work (and of what I read remember liking) is not really an answer.

(And as a quick aside. If you think I'm saying all of this because he was Polish. I'll have the same fear if I ever read a book by either Norman Lewis or Patrick Leigh Fermor again. Writers who I loved when I was much younger, but who have had similar charges put against them.)

So obviously what I'm going to say next is a guess and should be read as such. To be a reader and to be unsure what you're reading is a true account is a new and unsettling experience for me. Remember we're not talking here about viewpoints, but actual events.

I finished the book thinking that what I had read was probably an exaggeration of the truth, which is of course a lie. But like all really good lies there seemed to be a foundation of honesty.

Let's take a mild example. He is helping in "The Stiff" to transport a body of a dead coal miner with a group of other men across a Polish region where they meet a group of young women, who are of course pretty. Their joie de vivre a counterweight to "the Stiff" of the title. My view was .....really?

Incidentally "magical journalism" seems to be a way of allowing unnecessary long words into a narrative (and yes I'm making assumptions here as this is a translation). Girls view a fight in a dance hall as "metaphysical". Personally I've always assumed they view a fight in a dance hall as something they should move away from . Also he somehow was able to in this very same essay set in a Polish dance hall in the early sixties to include the words "Egyptian hieroglyphics". The question here is.....why?

The Emperor his most famous work about Haile Selassie is considered as an allegory for Communist Poland. After reading this book I have my doubts. For although the picture it presents of early sixties Polish countryside is not a good one on the other hand two of the stories seemed like Communist propaganda to me.

The title essay: An Advertisement For Toothpaste has an assertion that to obtain material possessions people in a Polish village are not buying toothpaste. I mean that's just a load of rubbish. Did not believe that for one second.

The other story where Communist propaganda seemed to be in play was The Taking of Elizabieta. Here the Catholic church is seen as a secretive and sinister organisation. Now I have no love for the Catholic church but at that time it was considered the only real opposition to the Communist authorities. So clearly there's an agenda here.

Magical journalism? The magic has gone for me.

Until the next time.

The Brief Return Of The Bookshop, Penguin Paperbacks and A Quick Word About Greetings Cards

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Wasn't working today (Monday) so the wife had some tasks for me to do.

"Get some ham as long as there are no purple bits in it".

Which I did. Apparently though the look was so white it was inedible so in the bin it went.

"Why did you get me Wholemeal bread?"

"I thought you liked it".

"I like Wholegrain idiot"

Oops...

But the one thing I did do without any argument or comeback was to post a couple of birthday cards the wife bought the day before. I went to Penarth to get some stamps before posting the letters. Job done.

Now a quick aside about cards. My wife is not the only woman I know who takes an interest in cards to such a forensic level it's CSI in it's thoroughness. She particularly takes interest in the verse.

Unless the card is humorous (rarely find them funny) I however have no interest in reading the verse. As long as the event, the picture and to whom it's referring to are OK I'm happy enough. And just for the record, when I receive a card I read what someone has written but the verse could be in Chinese for all I care.

Anyway back to Penarth and I was walking past the local bookshop where I noticed a series of miniature Penguin Paperbacks called Penguin Modern being displayed in a sought of light olive green cover.

The bookshop is called Griffin Books and it's that type of quirky place which is slowly disappearing from the local high street so more power to it's elbow. Unfortunately as we currently live in an apartment in the hunt for a proper home my book buying ways have been curtailed so much as though I would like to as there is no space currently for me to be a regular customer.

Ditto my collection of Penguin paperbacks which is locked in storage as I speak. Held until the moment arrives when I can open them and start reading "properly" again. At the moment the Kindle holds sway. And although as I've explained before the e reader has it's uses, there is something about the quiet pleasure of turning a page the electronic usurper can't match.

But here was a situation where the books were just £1 each and they were pocket book size....so....yes I was tempted......and having succumbed I went in.

Looking at the shelf where these Penguin Modern books were (fifty of them) the shop assistant/manager mentioned that they had been popular and were selling well. I could see why. There were works from authors from many parts of the globe such as Italo Calvino and Chinua Achebe. Eventually though I plumped for these two.

Different

Ryszard Kapuscinski was a Polish journalist who wrote The Emperor about the last days of Haile Selassie in Ethiopia and a collection of journalism called The Soccer War which I have read as well as other works that I haven't. I read once a review of a book that questioned a lot of the veracity of his work but as I haven't got round to reading that book I've no idea how valid that critique was.

Susan Sontag is a writer I've never read (so many books so little time) but I'm looking forward to reading her.

And so I was thinking. You know what I could just collect them. They're only small and wouldn't take that much space. I'd also be supporting my local bookshop.

Then I'd realised I'd made a mistake. I remembered too late that I didn't collect Penguin paperbacks with coloured bindings after 2013, Because their new owners did not recognise trade unions. I was so excited to buy an actual physical book it just slipped my mind.

Obviously I won't buy any more. But I feel I owe a debt to the Griffin Bookshop even though they wouldn't know (or probably care). So this is what I'll do. They are arranging a poetry reading in May (including Carol Ann Duffy). If I can make it I'll go there. If not I'll buy a hardback book from the shop.

Support your local bookshop.

Until the next time.