steps on the way

The other day, in a conversation that might have far-reaching consequences, I was asked, out of the blue, why I change topics so frequently when I write. I was perplexed as first; it hadn't occurred to me. But after a few moments of consideration, I had to agree. Sets of posts tend to come in bursts, dealing with issues that burn in me, issues that are irrepressibly on my mind. Once what needed telling has been told, I happily move on to the next obsession. In my opinion, this is how blogging should be. It's my blog and yet, I had to justify my actions. Not wanting to give the impression of being easily bored, scatter-brained (even constructively) or unsteady, I stammered about being interested in new things, always observing, questioning and analyzing. I doubt I sounded overly convincing.

The other night I finished reading Travels with Herodotus, the last book by the late Polish journalist, reporter, and traveler Ryszard Kapuściński, which was published in 2007, the year of his death. Ever since stepping outside the confines of the Iron Curtain in 1956, Kapuściński wrote copiously about different parts of the world. For years, he was the Polish Press Agency's only foreign correspondent. He was serious about news, diving into places of unrest with scant regard for personal safety. According to a review in Time (Time? Why Time? Since moving homes more than a year ago, I haven't been anywhere near this execrable magazine. But the linked piece gives a good introduction to the book and the man.), Kapuściński was "jailed 40 times, witnessed 27 coups and revolutions, survived four death sentences, contracted tuberculosis, cerebral malaria and blood poisoning, and was once doused with benzene and nearly set ablaze".

Having never read any Kapuściński, I was quite excited about the book, which fell into my hands at the Oxfam on Marylebone High Street a few weeks back, but I was disappointed. Instead of recapitulating his adventures across the world, Kapuściński travels back in time and reads Herodotus' The Histories, the world's first work of fictionalized non-fiction. He got a copy from his boss when he was sent on his first assignment and clearly loves the book. Throughout his career, he reads and rereads it. At the end of his life, he wants to share the love. So over the course of 300 pages he quotes extensively and ponders the implications. Places in Kapuściński's own travels are only ever mentioned in passing, without much depth or detail, and they don't come to life. I found it a rather dull read. (But you can judge for yourself: The New Yorker's abridged version of the first few chapters is freely available online.)

However, on the third to last page was the following remarkable paragraph describing Herodotus:

Creatures like him are insatiable, spongelike organisms, absorbing everything easily and just as easily parting with it. They do not keep anything inside for long, and because nature abhors a vacuum, they constantly need to ingest something new, replenish themselves, multiply, augment. Herodotus's mind is incapable of stopping at one event or one country. Something always propels him forward, drives him on without rest. A fact that he discovered and ascertained today no longer fascinates him tomorrow, and so he must walk (or ride) elsewhere, further away.

I'm no Herodotus, no full-time traveler, no writer, but I can see certain aspects of my own personality in this description. Had I finished the book a few days earlier than I did, I would have had a much better line of argument in the conversation mentioned above, only subtly different from what I had said and certainly related in spirit, but much clearer presented.