The German connection

Almost a month ago I had been so impressed by the opening story of a book devoted to stories of Anglo-German friendships and loves that I used it in a post I called “remembering”. With all the work I’ve been doing on the little guide to Romania, it’s only now that I’ve finished what tuned out to be a fascinating book with the intriguing title - Noble Endeavours – the Life of Two Countries, England and Germany, in Many Stories by Miranda Seymour whose blog also gives background on some of their characters as well as explaining what brought her to write the book. 

I’ve reached the stage of my life when stories about individuals have become more important to me than narratives about historical events. Perhaps the book’s author focuses a tad much for contemporary tastes on the higher social echelons, but the stories she tells of Germans in England and Angles in Germany are nonetheless important – particularly with the appearance of German emigres after the abortive 1848 revolutions. But the most shocking stories appear at the end of the book when it reaches the 1930s and recounts how various Germans and Angles reacted to Hitler. For once the former are the goodies and the latter the baddies – with the various warnings being actively sidelined by the Foreign Office  – including those of British spies with excellent connections

And I was delighted to see Tisa Schulenburg appear in the story. Somewhere in Germany, in 1990, I happened to wander in from the street to an exhibition of wonderful sketches of coalminers. They turned out to be Durham miners in the 1930s and executed by "Tisa" Schulenburg - a very graceful lady in her 80s who was kind enough to chat with me and (a few weeks later) send me reproductions of her work and a couple of her books. I knew nothing about her and discovered her full story only later - as I recounted in a blogpost

"Tisa" Schulenburg's life was by any standard remarkable. Having grown up among the Prussian nobility and witnessed the trauma of Germany's defeat in the Great War, she frequented the salons of Weimar Berlin, shocked her family by marrying a Jewish divorce in the 1930s, fled Nazi Germany for England, worked as an artist with the Durham coal miners, and spent her later years in a convent in the Ruhr.Her experience of the darker moments of the 20th century was reflected in her sculpture and drawing, in which the subject of human suffering and hardship was a constant theme - whether in the form of Nazi terror or the back-breaking grind of manual labour at the coal face.

 When she heard that I was a politician from Strathclyde Region - with its mining traditions in Lanarkshire and Ayrshire - she presented me with a signed portfolio of her 1930s drawings of the NE English miners and their families (some embedded in text) for onward donation to the Scottish miners.She died more than a decade later at the age of 97 – having lived the most amazing life……

I have copies of them - from which these are selections

The two books she sent are the small "Meine Dunklen Brueder" - which recounts her stay in the North-East villages and contains many of the sketches; and the more substantial "Ich Hab's Gewagt - Bildhauerin und Ordensfrau - ein unkonventionelles Leben" - her autobiography which she has signed in large, clear script, with an address sticker for the St Ursula Convent in Dorsten where she was then living.

I prize the books - and will now work my way through her autobiography.....I notice that the second book had run into 8 editions by the time she sent it to me – with the last imprint being in 1990.

A special salad

At last summer is here in the mountains – for the first time at the end of last week I was able to leave the back and front doors of the upper floor wide open to allow the air to flood the house; and to bathe on the outside terrace which so quickly becomes so hot - with the wooden timbers reflecting back…

Today was the first day I didn’t even need to put the small radiators on for even a few minutes to take the chill off at 06.00….

With all the recent dampness, the grass has been growing high and the sound of sharpening scythes will soon be added to those of the cicadas; the starlings/thrushes which are whirling around in interesting clouds at ground level; and the wooden clappers which precede the village church bells here…. I took my scythe down to old Viciu last week and he just laughed at me because more rain is expected and the cut grass would therefore not be able to dry properly for the cattle…..

I’m glad to contribute in my own small way to the renewal of the earth by the scything I commission at the back of our plot which extends up to the border; and also by allowing the neighbours to graze their cattle there when they want.

Have just finished preparing one of my glorious Balkan salads – based on a shopska but with some delicacies added. So here’s my special and unique salad -

To the radish, cucumber, red onion, spring garlic, tomatoes, olives, egg and lettuce I add a few sprinkles of apple/honey vinegar, pumpkin oil and a touch of lemon juice plus well-toasted bread whose crusts I have scraped with heads of garlic and finish it off with shredded village cheese (ideally from the goats on the ridge)! Balsamic vinegar is too strong!

A taster

I promised a few days ago to extract some tantalising goodies from the 130 pages and 400 hyperlinks which make up my little guide to Romania. It will be online in a few days – my daughter’s pending arrival being a useful deadline to force me to stop adding new discoveries eg the writing of Panait Istrati  whom the French traveler Dominique Fernandez enthuses about in his The Romanian Rhapsody; an overlooked corner of Europe;  (2000) - a delightful mix of passionate text and evocative black and white photographs by F Ferranti.

Fernandez (now all of 90 I think)  made four visits to Romania in the early-mid 1990s and a typical section at the start contrasts the images the west has of the country with its beauty and then says

“And the moral force of the people, their endurance, their courage and good heart, which fifty years of tyranny have not brought down, where books are still prized as much as food and medicine, where you will find more passion for matters that relate to the soul, more true culture , more intellectual curiosity than in the West where everything is easy and everything is commercial”

In the subsequent 20 years the changes have, sadly, not all been for the better – which is why almost half of those polled express nostalgia for the communist period.

So, as a curtain-raiser to next week’s full-scale production, I offer first two introductory freebies-

•       “A Cultural Journey” with stunning photographs of Romanian monuments and useful material on prominent Romanians
•         Romania, Bucharest and Beyond – City Compass 2013 a well-produced and useful booklet (of more than 200 pages) for those visiting the country.

 Three celebrations of photography

•        The Color of Hay by Katherine McLaughlin (2003) is a photographic account of a two-year stay in the Maramures area
•       Transylvania  by writer Bronwen Riley and photographer Dan Dinescu 2007).
•       Photo archives from the first half of the 20th century - Costica Acsinte Archive 

 A flavour of local writing – both Romanian and foreign – in

•        BucharestTales (2011) It contains both poems and prose - all of which can be viewed at the hyperlink in the title with the additional bonus of photographs adorning every page!
•        Corridors of Mirrors: The Spirit of Europe in Contemporary British and .Romanian Fiction by Pia Brinziu (2000) 

 Two blogposts about Romanian music with great hyperlinks – the first on the classical greats  the second on folk music

These excerpts from The Mountains of Romania give a good sense of the area – the Piatra Craiaului is a dramatic range which I view from my rear terrace.

Two of Lucian Boia (Romania’s greatest contemporary historian)’s key books can be read in full and in English online –

·      Romania; borderland of Europe (2001); and

·      History and myth in Romanian Consciousness (published in Romanian in 2001)

And a powerful record of life in Romania is The Eighties in Bucharest published by Martor

And if you really must visit cities (rather than villages) and don’t know which (apart from Brasov) then have a look at these mini-guides   

That’s just the hors d’oeuvre – now the meal starts!!

On not getting under the skin

I find it odd that so few writers or academics seem to have asked the question which has been bothering me this last year – how does one get to know a country or get under its skin

I have fairly wide interests, skim the book reviews, follow the serendipidous leads while surfing the net – so might reasonably be regarded as well-read and not boxed in by over-specialisation. I am therefore reasonably confident when I say that I have not heard many people raising this question.

I can’t be the lack of writers with experience of living in several countries - look at the scale in the 1920s and 1930s of migration of the most talented Russian, central European and German writers – whether to other European countries or North America. If ever there was a period when you could expect interest in exploring the multiple dimensions of a nation’s soul, that was surely it. But how many real studies of this sort have been attempted? Of the depth, for example, of de Tocqueville’s “Democracy in America”?. And remember, of course, that that book was the result of a visit of only some 9 months – not the work of an émigré.

Writers like Joseph Roth, Arthur Koestler and Czeslaw Milosz had intensive experience of various countries in their adult life but I don’t know of any works from them which deal with this question.

Perhaps it requires a butterfly mind like mine to be interested…..in exploring, for example, the 16 or 17 different ways there seem to be of “getting to know a country”. Perhaps indeed only outsiders (such as ex-pats) who don’t get sucked into the life of a country have and retain the distance which is perhaps needed for the search? Recent times have seen the development of a large cadre of travel writers - but how many of them can seriously be said to have tried to get under the skin of a country?

And, of course, we often remark on the difficulty of knowing even our most intimate of friends – so how is it possible to do justice to the complexity of a country – with its variety of regions, classes, generations?

Clearly some have tried. – for example Germany; unravelling an enigma which is one of the Interact Series of books from Barnes and Noble devoted to cultural analysis.

But while I find the book interesting for its take on cultural patterns (eg communications) and how they underpin post-war German commercial practices, in no real sense does the book try to understand Germany and its cultural features. 

I thought Dinner with Persephone; travels in Greece by poet Patricia Storace was quite brilliant in capturing Greek mores and thought processes but – and here’s the rub – who am I to judge the veracity of the portrayal? If there are few who can do justice to a country, there are even fewer who can assess fairly how well it has been done. 

I have just received a copy of Jose Saramagos 1979 Journey to Portugal which, as you would expect from a Nobel [prize-winner, seem beautifully written. But it appears that most of the book focuses on churches! 

I am left with Theodor Zeldin's The French as the only book I can immediately think of which gets seriously under the skin of a nation.....

I will continue this search...... 

Maps as metaphors

Almost a decade ago I was asked, amongst other things, to design a Road Map for the development of municipalities in Kyrgyzstan. It was probably my best work (apart from getting a new Civil Service Agency off the ground in Azerbaijan – but that’s another story!).

The story of the Roadmap – and the lessons I learned is told here but the key part showed the usefulness of taking the metaphor embodied in the word apart -

 We did not initially understand the significance of the concept of a “Roadmap”– and it is one also which our beneficiaries also had some initial problems with. But, as I put it in the introduction to the readers of the document, “A road map does not suggest a route – YOU choose the route. A roadmap simply locates the key features (mountains, rivers and swamps) you need to be aware of when trying to travel from the A to the B of your choice. So this is not an attempt to force foreign models on the local situation. Another point about a road map is that it cannot cover every changing detail nor tell you how you should approach certain situations – sometimes a large bump in the road or impatience can have fatal consequences. So a road map is only a guide - local knowledge, judgment and skills are needed to get you to your destination! And, like a map, you don’t have to read it all – only the sections which are relevant for your journey!”

I actually developed a game during one Conference for the municipalities – putting up on the walls (a) the various elements critical to driving a car successfully from point A to B – the various parts of a car (engine; wheels; fuel, driving wheel; driver etc); the road network (structure and maintenance); licensing and control (eg police); garage network etc - then (b) listed the key actors in the municipal system (mayors, citizens, tax, Ministries, President, Parliament. Laws etc - and then invited the participants to link an actor with one of the road system’s elements (eg laws =wheels?)

What I was trying to do was to use the power of metaphor to get them to think creatively. It was fun anyway…..The results are at the end of this paper 

It’s the same with this question of exploring a country – I said there were at least 16 different ways of getting to know a country, depending on which sense you used. 
And also, I’ve realized, depending on what sort of map you use! 

Recently I bought two maps of this area for my daughter’s use – one the “panorama” of southern Transylvania which heads the recent post about Roadmaps; the other map is a walker’s map of the smaller are around our village which takes in the superb Piatra Craiului mountain range just behind the house.

What bit of the country we see depends on which map we choose……

Desperado

I have been reading “The Long Shadows” (1997) which is almost a book within several books as it alternates between three if not four narratives – that of the English biographer of a writer whose last work was a novel about a young Romanian woman who visits England in the 1980s. Her character is clearly that of the young translator who was assigned to the writer when he visited Romania in the 1980s on a British Council scheme. A good atmosphere of the place and period is established.

After completing I googled author Alan Brownjohn’s name since this is the first thing I have read of his  - and discover that the most substantial material on him has been written – at book length - by ……….a Romanian Professor of English whose elegant, downloadable and highly readable book has the marvelous title - Alan Brownjohn and the Desperado Age. Her commentary on The Long Shadows is at pp67-88

And the book is only part of a much wider “British Desperado” project which has yielded two other titles from the Contemporary Literature Press of the University of Bucharest - first The Desperado Age – British literature at the start of the new millenium - another downloadable book (with more than 300 pages) which explains her term “desperado”, locates it in the literary constellation and then assesses the work of 15 writers

and then, the third title, Desperado Interviews is 400 pages long and consists of interviews with about 50 writers from different countries. Highly appropriate given the focus of the previous post!!

A real treasure trove of reading! Just the thing as the carpathian mist continues to envelope the house.......

Good questions.

Good questions get brownie points. from me....I always appreciate good questions.....they are a spur to creative thinking....they take us out of the groove.....In fact I got into the habit latterly, when taking classes of central Asian civil servants, of starting each session by inviting the participants to pose questions about the subject of the "lecture" to which I then responded ex tempore. I then wrote the lecture up afterwards in the light of what followed....I learned a lot!!!

This post starts with the questions an Englishwoman called Lynn Barber has apparently been asking of famous people in British newspapers for more than thirty years - and then moves on to compare with other good interviewers I've noted in my life. The best, for me, has to be the psychiatrist Anthony Clare whose famous interviews of the 80s and 90s on BBC are, I have just discovered, now being rerun

“What do you spend your money on? Do you like buying stuff for others, or yourself? Do you resent paying income tax? What’s the most you’ve ever spent on a dress?

Who were you closest to as a child? 
How often do you phone your mum? 
What would you normally be doing at this moment, if you weren’t doing this? 
What do you do on your own in a hotel room? Why?”

Questions like this are what Lynn Barber uses to open up her celebrity interviews, and I think you can see why. They’re simple, direct, upfront and conversational, but also come at you from an angle. The article which drew my attention is a review of the book Barber has written but is unfortunately behind behind a pay-wall at the London Review of Books

Her questions are inquisitive and extrovert, bold and clever. The ensuing write-ups are stylish and often surprising, gossipy on the surface, precise and controlled underneath. Precise, controlled, and of course ‘unsparing’ – her own word:
‘If anyone else tells me what a lovely lad Rafa Nadal is I shall scream.’
‘Don’t ever make the mistake of underestimating Hilary Mantel.’ ‘I don’t want to give a cool appraisal of Jeremy Irons … I just want to boil him in oil.’
Richard Harris at the Savoy in 1990, ‘playing pocket billiards’ through his tracksuit bottoms.
Rafael Nadal in Rome in 2011, ‘lying on a massage table with his flies undone, affording me a good view of his Armani underpants – Armani being one of his many sponsors, natch.’

If this is what good interviewing is now about, beam me up Scottie! I want the 70s back – give me Oriana Fallaci any day. Chris Hitchens bade Fallaci a fond and eloquent farewell in 2006

With Oriana Fallaci's demise at 77 from a host of cancers, in September, in her beloved Florence, there also died something of the art of the interview. Her absolutely heroic period was that of the 1970s, probably the last chance we had of staving off the complete triumph of celebrity culture. Throughout that decade, she scoured the globe, badgering the famous and the powerful and the self-important until they agreed to talk with her, and then reducing them to human scale. Facing Colonel Qaddafi in Libya, she bluntly asked him, "Do you know you are so unloved and unliked?" And she didn't spare figures who enjoyed more general approval, either.

As a warm-up with Lech Walesa, she put Poland's leading anti-Communist at his ease by inquiring, "Has anyone ever told you that you resemble Stalin? I mean physically. Yes, same nose, same profile, same features, same moustache. And same height, I believe, same size."

People began to sneer and gossip, saying that Oriana was just a confrontational bitch who used her femininity to get results, and who goaded men into saying incriminating things. I remember having it whispered to me that she would leave the transcript of the answers untouched but rephrase her original questions so that they seemed more penetrating than they had really been. As it happens, I found an opportunity to check that last rumour. During her interview with President Makarios, of Cyprus, who was also a Greek Orthodox patriarch, she had asked him straight-out if he was over-fond of women, and more or less got him to admit that his silence in response to her direct questioning was a confession. 

Many Greek Cypriots of my acquaintance were scandalized, and quite certain that their beloved leader would never have spoken that way. I knew the old boy slightly, and took the chance to ask him if he had read the relevant chapter. "Oh yes," he said, with perfect gravity. "It is just as I remember it."

Occasionally, Oriana's interviews actually influenced history, or at the least the pace and rhythm of events. Interviewing Pakistan's leader Zulfikar Ali Bhutto just after the war with India over Bangladesh, she induced him to say what he really thought of his opposite number in India, Mrs. Indira Gandhi ("a diligent drudge of a schoolgirl, a woman devoid of initiative and imagination.… She should have half her father's talent!"). Demanding a full copy of the text, Mrs. Gandhi thereupon declined to attend the proposed signing of a peace agreement with Pakistan.
Bhutto had to pursue Oriana, through a diplomatic envoy, all the way to Addis Ababa, to which she had journeyed to interview Emperor Haile Selassie. Bhutto's ambassador begged her to disown the Gandhi parts, and hysterically claimed that the lives of 600 million people were at stake if she did not. One of the hardest things to resist, for reporters and journalists, is the appeal to the world-shaking importance of their work and the need for them to be "responsible." Oriana declined to oblige, and Mr. Bhutto duly had to eat his plate of crow. Future "access" to the powerful meant absolutely nothing to her: she acted as if she had one chance to make the record and so did they.

Perhaps only one Western journalist ever managed to interview Ayatollah Khomeini twice. And from those long discussions we learned an enormous amount about the nature of the adamant theocracy that he was bent upon instituting. The second session was an achievement in itself, since Oriana had terminated the first one by wrenching off the all-enveloping chador she had been compelled to wear and calling it a "stupid, medieval rag."

She told me that after this moment of drama she had been taken aside by Khomeini's son, who confided in her that it had been the only time in his life that he had seen his father laugh. 

Do you really remember any recent interview with a major politician? Usually, the only thing that stands out in the mind is some stupid gaffe or piece of rambling incoherence. And if you go and check the original, it generally turns out that this was prompted by a dull or rambling question. Try reading the next transcript of a presidential "news conference," and see which makes you whimper more: the chief executive's train-wreck syntax or the lame and contrived promptings from the press.
 Oriana's questions were tautly phrased and persistent. She researched her subjects minutely before going to see them, and each one of her published transcripts was preceded by an essay of several pages in length concerning the politics and the mentality of the interviewee. She proceeded, as Jeeves used to phrase it, from an appreciation of "the psychology of the individual."

Thus, a provocative or impudent question from her would not be a vulgar attempt to shock but a well-timed challenge, usually after a lot of listening, and often taking the form of a statement. (To Yasser Arafat: "Conclusion: you don't at all want the peace that everyone is hoping for.") The commonest and easiest way of explaining the decay of interviewing is to attribute it to the short-term and showbiz values of TV. But there's no innate reason why this should be true.

At the dawn of the television age, John Freeman—a former cabinet minister and diplomat, and editor of the New Statesman—established an inquisitorial style probably borrowed in part from Ed Murrow, and provided astonishing glimpses of hitherto reclusive public figures like Evelyn Waugh.

Television allows points to be pressed and repeated: the BBC's Jeremy Paxman once put the same question a dozen times to a Tory politician who was being evasive. It also brought us the huge advantage of the close-up, which did immense damage to shifty types like Richard Nixon.