Book review: The Soccer War, Ryszard Kapuscinski (1973)

Some pieces in this collection of literary journalism appeared in the original Polish in years that fell just after WWII ended. My copy of the book was published first by Vintage in 1992 and it was bought in Noosa Heads, doubtless on one of my trips to that locality in the period 2006 to 2015.

The cover is wild – in a classic, severe 1990s way – and deserves a blogpost all of its own. I love the bright orange lettering used for the book title against the navy blue ground. Note also the lack of a given name for the book’s author on the front and on the spine. He was, evidently, so well-known at the time that he didn’t need one shown.

Some of the pieces are about African countries and others are about Latin American countries. There is also one set in Syria during a time of war between Israel and its Arab neighbours, and there is one set on Cyprus at the time of the Turkish invasion. 

War is a common theme binding the pieces together but another is the struggle of many countries to enjoy peace at a time of renewal. In the 20th century the old ways had abandoned many nations and, in their place, democracy of a sort had emerged but the transition was usually full of conflict and violence. Because these problems persist, now, two generations later, the book remains topical.

In his articles, Kapuscinski delineates the disturbances with vivid prose. The reliance on fact as well as the presence of the author in his own narratives gives his writing a vibrancy and a liveliness that is often absent from journalism. 

Like many men and women who were doing it at this time Kapuscinski in these articles is a hardworking reporter on a quest to convey the truth to a waiting audience. A man, as he describes in one humorous piece, who was allergic to desks.

Since his death not long ago, Kapuscinski’s reputation has taken some hits due to accusations that he was not always truthful, but I don’t know enough about it to comment with any authority. It’s a shame, since Kapuscinski writes well, in the manner of Didion avant la lettre. You get long passages of intense focus on a small range of subjects, or on one subject seen from a variety of angles, and then you will get a single sentence as a new paragraph with a decisive statement that turns the story in a new direction. 

Overarching all of these pieces is Kapuscinski’s dry humour – which cuts deep due to the author’s abiding concern for humanity – and the image of a man who, for some reason, was driven to discover things that others ignored. Ignored unless they read about them in a newspaper.