Image
File
Arts
It's Not You,
its Me
Amanda Aikman
Arts and Entertainment Editor
& Entertainment
Death Makes a Good Story
Ignatieff’s latest fiction examines the ethics of war writing
Christina Palassio
The Link, Concordia University
Dear Culture Section,
I want you to know that I will always
cherish the time we spent together,
but I have to be honest with you—I’m
ready to move on.
It's not that I don’t still find you
interesting and exciting, it’s just that
sometimes editors and sections grow
apart. I mean, look at you—youre
calling yourself the “Arts and
Entertainment” section now, it’s like I
don’t even know you anymore. Don't
get defensive though, I’m not blaming
you, I’ve changed too.
I used to think you were the only
thing I wanted in a student newspaper
career, but I see now that there is so
much more to the experience. You
helped me to see this.
I remember our first article togeth-
er, | was so nervous. But not you
Culture Section, you believed in me
even when I couldn't believe in
myself. Oh, we had some good times
together didn’t we? The movies, the
concerts, the plays—I know that
eventually you will move on to anoth-
er editor, but I hope you will remem-
ber our relationship fondly. I know
that I will.
Now, you may have heard some
rumours around the office about me
being unfaithful, and for that I am
truly sorry. I wanted to be the one to
tell you this Culture Section. The
truth is I have been spending some
time with the Managing Editor posi-
tion. It’s only been training though, I
swear—we aren't going all the way
until the next issue. I hope, in time,
that you understand. As
Managing Editor I will still be a part
can
of your life, just a smaller part. My
hope is that the distance will give us
both the space and time that we need
to heal.
In closing, dear Culture Section, I
want you to know that I will miss
your sense of adventure, your devil-
may-care attitude, your irreverent
wit—and most of all, your free tickets.
Yours Truly,
Amanda Aikman, Ex-Culture Editor
14 | OtherPress
MONTREAL = (CUP)—Michael
Ignatieff sets his third novel, Charlie
Johnson in the Flames, against the
backdrop of a war-torn Balkan land-
scape and engages a bleak world
where victims of war, their preda-
tors, and the journalists document-
ing the ravages interact.
Decades of war reporting lead cor-
respondent Charlie Johnson to a
guerilla command post buried déep
in a Balkan forest. He and his cam-
eraman Jacek get some tape of a
“good story” that would prove
guerillas are still operating out of vil-
lages situated within four miles of
the border. His younger competi-
tors, “the twenty-somethings ... still
dozing in the American bar” are
none the wiser.
The story Charlie follows out of
the forest is not the same one he
chases in. Hiding from the soldiers
pursuing them, Charlie, Jacek, and
their guide watch helplessly as the
woman who had sheltered them in
her house only moments earlier is set
afire by an army commander.
The nameless woman, burned and
barely alive, leads the three men out
of the woods. Charlie’s hands are
badly scorched from putting out the
fire on her back. The woman is
taken to the hospital, but a few days
later Charlie finds out she is dead.
Though his hands heal, his psycho-
logical pain does not. His inability to
let go of the event, of the smell of
searing flesh, sets him on a mission
to avenge her death.
Ignatieff’s novel probes the limits
of the ethical responsibility facing
journalists and raises questions
about how much journalists are
affected by their subjects, how far
they can go to right a wrong and
what happens once they cross the
boundaries of impartiality.
Though the novel’s protagonist is
well crafted and defined, it is diffi-
cult at times to sympathize with a
character cast among victims of war
who only absorbs the true horror of
what is happening around him
because of his own pain. Yet howev-
er superficial and cliché Charlie's
character sometimes seems, his expe-
riences and his reactions are not
totally devoid of insight and honesty.
The novel’s main strength lies in the
fast-paced guiding
Charlie’s quest. Ignatieff’s sentences
are short and simple, drawing read-
ers quickly and irreversibly into a
foreign world.
Ignatieff, 56, is familiar with the
emotional and physical landscapes of
zones; the ‘Toronto-born
Harvard professor has been to the
places he describes in the novel and
narrative
war
June 2004
has written several books about the
Balkan war. In this novel, he uses
journalism as a way into that world,
painting the profession of war
reporting as bereft of any emotion or
connection, where newsmakers must
keep moving to survive.
“We suffer too much from experi-
ence,” Jacek says to Charlie in an
attempt to explain why the realities
of the events they cover often don’t
sink in. “We have more than we
know what to do with.”
Ignatieff has crafted an intelligent
novel whose emotional resonance
brings home the realities of war in a
Way not many news reports can.
Edited Text
Arts
It's Not You,
its Me
Amanda Aikman
Arts and Entertainment Editor
& Entertainment
Death Makes a Good Story
Ignatieff’s latest fiction examines the ethics of war writing
Christina Palassio
The Link, Concordia University
Dear Culture Section,
I want you to know that I will always
cherish the time we spent together,
but I have to be honest with you—I’m
ready to move on.
It's not that I don’t still find you
interesting and exciting, it’s just that
sometimes editors and sections grow
apart. I mean, look at you—youre
calling yourself the “Arts and
Entertainment” section now, it’s like I
don’t even know you anymore. Don't
get defensive though, I’m not blaming
you, I’ve changed too.
I used to think you were the only
thing I wanted in a student newspaper
career, but I see now that there is so
much more to the experience. You
helped me to see this.
I remember our first article togeth-
er, | was so nervous. But not you
Culture Section, you believed in me
even when I couldn't believe in
myself. Oh, we had some good times
together didn’t we? The movies, the
concerts, the plays—I know that
eventually you will move on to anoth-
er editor, but I hope you will remem-
ber our relationship fondly. I know
that I will.
Now, you may have heard some
rumours around the office about me
being unfaithful, and for that I am
truly sorry. I wanted to be the one to
tell you this Culture Section. The
truth is I have been spending some
time with the Managing Editor posi-
tion. It’s only been training though, I
swear—we aren't going all the way
until the next issue. I hope, in time,
that you understand. As
Managing Editor I will still be a part
can
of your life, just a smaller part. My
hope is that the distance will give us
both the space and time that we need
to heal.
In closing, dear Culture Section, I
want you to know that I will miss
your sense of adventure, your devil-
may-care attitude, your irreverent
wit—and most of all, your free tickets.
Yours Truly,
Amanda Aikman, Ex-Culture Editor
14 | OtherPress
MONTREAL = (CUP)—Michael
Ignatieff sets his third novel, Charlie
Johnson in the Flames, against the
backdrop of a war-torn Balkan land-
scape and engages a bleak world
where victims of war, their preda-
tors, and the journalists document-
ing the ravages interact.
Decades of war reporting lead cor-
respondent Charlie Johnson to a
guerilla command post buried déep
in a Balkan forest. He and his cam-
eraman Jacek get some tape of a
“good story” that would prove
guerillas are still operating out of vil-
lages situated within four miles of
the border. His younger competi-
tors, “the twenty-somethings ... still
dozing in the American bar” are
none the wiser.
The story Charlie follows out of
the forest is not the same one he
chases in. Hiding from the soldiers
pursuing them, Charlie, Jacek, and
their guide watch helplessly as the
woman who had sheltered them in
her house only moments earlier is set
afire by an army commander.
The nameless woman, burned and
barely alive, leads the three men out
of the woods. Charlie’s hands are
badly scorched from putting out the
fire on her back. The woman is
taken to the hospital, but a few days
later Charlie finds out she is dead.
Though his hands heal, his psycho-
logical pain does not. His inability to
let go of the event, of the smell of
searing flesh, sets him on a mission
to avenge her death.
Ignatieff’s novel probes the limits
of the ethical responsibility facing
journalists and raises questions
about how much journalists are
affected by their subjects, how far
they can go to right a wrong and
what happens once they cross the
boundaries of impartiality.
Though the novel’s protagonist is
well crafted and defined, it is diffi-
cult at times to sympathize with a
character cast among victims of war
who only absorbs the true horror of
what is happening around him
because of his own pain. Yet howev-
er superficial and cliché Charlie's
character sometimes seems, his expe-
riences and his reactions are not
totally devoid of insight and honesty.
The novel’s main strength lies in the
fast-paced guiding
Charlie’s quest. Ignatieff’s sentences
are short and simple, drawing read-
ers quickly and irreversibly into a
foreign world.
Ignatieff, 56, is familiar with the
emotional and physical landscapes of
zones; the ‘Toronto-born
Harvard professor has been to the
places he describes in the novel and
narrative
war
June 2004
has written several books about the
Balkan war. In this novel, he uses
journalism as a way into that world,
painting the profession of war
reporting as bereft of any emotion or
connection, where newsmakers must
keep moving to survive.
“We suffer too much from experi-
ence,” Jacek says to Charlie in an
attempt to explain why the realities
of the events they cover often don’t
sink in. “We have more than we
know what to do with.”
Ignatieff has crafted an intelligent
novel whose emotional resonance
brings home the realities of war in a
Way not many news reports can.
Arts
It's Not You,
its Me
Amanda Aikman
Arts and Entertainment Editor
& Entertainment
Death Makes a Good Story
Ignatieff’s latest fiction examines the ethics of war writing
Christina Palassio
The Link, Concordia University
Dear Culture Section,
I want you to know that I will always
cherish the time we spent together,
but I have to be honest with you—I’m
ready to move on.
It's not that I don’t still find you
interesting and exciting, it’s just that
sometimes editors and sections grow
apart. I mean, look at you—youre
calling yourself the “Arts and
Entertainment” section now, it’s like I
don’t even know you anymore. Don't
get defensive though, I’m not blaming
you, I’ve changed too.
I used to think you were the only
thing I wanted in a student newspaper
career, but I see now that there is so
much more to the experience. You
helped me to see this.
I remember our first article togeth-
er, | was so nervous. But not you
Culture Section, you believed in me
even when I couldn't believe in
myself. Oh, we had some good times
together didn’t we? The movies, the
concerts, the plays—I know that
eventually you will move on to anoth-
er editor, but I hope you will remem-
ber our relationship fondly. I know
that I will.
Now, you may have heard some
rumours around the office about me
being unfaithful, and for that I am
truly sorry. I wanted to be the one to
tell you this Culture Section. The
truth is I have been spending some
time with the Managing Editor posi-
tion. It’s only been training though, I
swear—we aren't going all the way
until the next issue. I hope, in time,
that you understand. As
Managing Editor I will still be a part
can
of your life, just a smaller part. My
hope is that the distance will give us
both the space and time that we need
to heal.
In closing, dear Culture Section, I
want you to know that I will miss
your sense of adventure, your devil-
may-care attitude, your irreverent
wit—and most of all, your free tickets.
Yours Truly,
Amanda Aikman, Ex-Culture Editor
14 | OtherPress
MONTREAL = (CUP)—Michael
Ignatieff sets his third novel, Charlie
Johnson in the Flames, against the
backdrop of a war-torn Balkan land-
scape and engages a bleak world
where victims of war, their preda-
tors, and the journalists document-
ing the ravages interact.
Decades of war reporting lead cor-
respondent Charlie Johnson to a
guerilla command post buried déep
in a Balkan forest. He and his cam-
eraman Jacek get some tape of a
“good story” that would prove
guerillas are still operating out of vil-
lages situated within four miles of
the border. His younger competi-
tors, “the twenty-somethings ... still
dozing in the American bar” are
none the wiser.
The story Charlie follows out of
the forest is not the same one he
chases in. Hiding from the soldiers
pursuing them, Charlie, Jacek, and
their guide watch helplessly as the
woman who had sheltered them in
her house only moments earlier is set
afire by an army commander.
The nameless woman, burned and
barely alive, leads the three men out
of the woods. Charlie’s hands are
badly scorched from putting out the
fire on her back. The woman is
taken to the hospital, but a few days
later Charlie finds out she is dead.
Though his hands heal, his psycho-
logical pain does not. His inability to
let go of the event, of the smell of
searing flesh, sets him on a mission
to avenge her death.
Ignatieff’s novel probes the limits
of the ethical responsibility facing
journalists and raises questions
about how much journalists are
affected by their subjects, how far
they can go to right a wrong and
what happens once they cross the
boundaries of impartiality.
Though the novel’s protagonist is
well crafted and defined, it is diffi-
cult at times to sympathize with a
character cast among victims of war
who only absorbs the true horror of
what is happening around him
because of his own pain. Yet howev-
er superficial and cliché Charlie's
character sometimes seems, his expe-
riences and his reactions are not
totally devoid of insight and honesty.
The novel’s main strength lies in the
fast-paced guiding
Charlie’s quest. Ignatieff’s sentences
are short and simple, drawing read-
ers quickly and irreversibly into a
foreign world.
Ignatieff, 56, is familiar with the
emotional and physical landscapes of
zones; the ‘Toronto-born
Harvard professor has been to the
places he describes in the novel and
narrative
war
June 2004
has written several books about the
Balkan war. In this novel, he uses
journalism as a way into that world,
painting the profession of war
reporting as bereft of any emotion or
connection, where newsmakers must
keep moving to survive.
“We suffer too much from experi-
ence,” Jacek says to Charlie in an
attempt to explain why the realities
of the events they cover often don’t
sink in. “We have more than we
know what to do with.”
Ignatieff has crafted an intelligent
novel whose emotional resonance
brings home the realities of war in a
Way not many news reports can.
Arts
It's Not You,
its Me
Amanda Aikman
Arts and Entertainment Editor
& Entertainment
Death Makes a Good Story
Ignatieff’s latest fiction examines the ethics of war writing
Christina Palassio
The Link, Concordia University
Dear Culture Section,
I want you to know that I will always
cherish the time we spent together,
but I have to be honest with you—I’m
ready to move on.
It's not that I don’t still find you
interesting and exciting, it’s just that
sometimes editors and sections grow
apart. I mean, look at you—youre
calling yourself the “Arts and
Entertainment” section now, it’s like I
don’t even know you anymore. Don't
get defensive though, I’m not blaming
you, I’ve changed too.
I used to think you were the only
thing I wanted in a student newspaper
career, but I see now that there is so
much more to the experience. You
helped me to see this.
I remember our first article togeth-
er, | was so nervous. But not you
Culture Section, you believed in me
even when I couldn't believe in
myself. Oh, we had some good times
together didn’t we? The movies, the
concerts, the plays—I know that
eventually you will move on to anoth-
er editor, but I hope you will remem-
ber our relationship fondly. I know
that I will.
Now, you may have heard some
rumours around the office about me
being unfaithful, and for that I am
truly sorry. I wanted to be the one to
tell you this Culture Section. The
truth is I have been spending some
time with the Managing Editor posi-
tion. It’s only been training though, I
swear—we aren't going all the way
until the next issue. I hope, in time,
that you understand. As
Managing Editor I will still be a part
can
of your life, just a smaller part. My
hope is that the distance will give us
both the space and time that we need
to heal.
In closing, dear Culture Section, I
want you to know that I will miss
your sense of adventure, your devil-
may-care attitude, your irreverent
wit—and most of all, your free tickets.
Yours Truly,
Amanda Aikman, Ex-Culture Editor
14 | OtherPress
MONTREAL = (CUP)—Michael
Ignatieff sets his third novel, Charlie
Johnson in the Flames, against the
backdrop of a war-torn Balkan land-
scape and engages a bleak world
where victims of war, their preda-
tors, and the journalists document-
ing the ravages interact.
Decades of war reporting lead cor-
respondent Charlie Johnson to a
guerilla command post buried déep
in a Balkan forest. He and his cam-
eraman Jacek get some tape of a
“good story” that would prove
guerillas are still operating out of vil-
lages situated within four miles of
the border. His younger competi-
tors, “the twenty-somethings ... still
dozing in the American bar” are
none the wiser.
The story Charlie follows out of
the forest is not the same one he
chases in. Hiding from the soldiers
pursuing them, Charlie, Jacek, and
their guide watch helplessly as the
woman who had sheltered them in
her house only moments earlier is set
afire by an army commander.
The nameless woman, burned and
barely alive, leads the three men out
of the woods. Charlie’s hands are
badly scorched from putting out the
fire on her back. The woman is
taken to the hospital, but a few days
later Charlie finds out she is dead.
Though his hands heal, his psycho-
logical pain does not. His inability to
let go of the event, of the smell of
searing flesh, sets him on a mission
to avenge her death.
Ignatieff’s novel probes the limits
of the ethical responsibility facing
journalists and raises questions
about how much journalists are
affected by their subjects, how far
they can go to right a wrong and
what happens once they cross the
boundaries of impartiality.
Though the novel’s protagonist is
well crafted and defined, it is diffi-
cult at times to sympathize with a
character cast among victims of war
who only absorbs the true horror of
what is happening around him
because of his own pain. Yet howev-
er superficial and cliché Charlie's
character sometimes seems, his expe-
riences and his reactions are not
totally devoid of insight and honesty.
The novel’s main strength lies in the
fast-paced guiding
Charlie’s quest. Ignatieff’s sentences
are short and simple, drawing read-
ers quickly and irreversibly into a
foreign world.
Ignatieff, 56, is familiar with the
emotional and physical landscapes of
zones; the ‘Toronto-born
Harvard professor has been to the
places he describes in the novel and
narrative
war
June 2004
has written several books about the
Balkan war. In this novel, he uses
journalism as a way into that world,
painting the profession of war
reporting as bereft of any emotion or
connection, where newsmakers must
keep moving to survive.
“We suffer too much from experi-
ence,” Jacek says to Charlie in an
attempt to explain why the realities
of the events they cover often don’t
sink in. “We have more than we
know what to do with.”
Ignatieff has crafted an intelligent
novel whose emotional resonance
brings home the realities of war in a
Way not many news reports can.