Читать книгу Mike Bond Bound - Mike Bond - Страница 12

Beirut was a paradise when I first arrived there as a very young man. The golden sun and brilliant sea, the ancient streets, the hubbub of cultures, the food and wines, the tanned and sensual young women, the perfume of many million flowers, the pine hills and cold white peaks, all imbued it with a near-sacred substance. This, I felt, is a place where all peoples come together, vibrant with history, wisdom, lust, and delight.

It was soon a battlefield of smashed buildings and bloody streets, its Phoenician treasures blasted, its forests and vineyards burned, its people huddled in bombed-out basements or sniping at each other from shattered windows, hating, killing, raping, pillaging. I survived by luck, by tricks, even in dark places where discovery was death. Everywhere I lived is gone, every good friend is dead. I refuse to let them die, to see it gone, without a testament, a memory.

As the years went by, broken-hearted by Beirut, I tried to understand – why do we war? Now, after having covered wars on three continents, I can find no answer beyond the experience itself. What I mean is this: only when we have lived war do we hate and know it well enough to make it stop. For in every country, every city, neighborhood and family, Beirut is waiting.

If everyone could live Beirut, I thought, we might war less. If I could tell one small true story of Beirut, let the reader fear the bullets, crouch beneath the thundering bombs in airless cellars as the concrete floors come crashing down, see loved ones die, grope for passion and belief amid terror and death, that it might make a difference.

Every book must be a failure because it fails to say so much. Today fiction withers because it is too literary, and ceases to be relevant. But if we are to learn we must do so through the heart, not through the mind – a book that does not touch the heart conveys no experience at all. If readers turn away, we need look no further than ourselves.

Like many people I still live Beirut every day, every night, and will probably the rest of my life. I have tried in Holy War to tell its story.