Paris: A Love Story (23 page)

11. In dealing with the situation in Bosnia with Milosevic, Kati recalls Richard accepting for the first time that there is true evil in the world. Do you agree?

12. Have you been to Paris? Does Kati characterize it the way you would? Do you agree or disagree with any of her characterizations of Parisians or their culture?

13. When Kati returns to Paris after Richard’s death, she spends a lot of time in cafés writing. She says cafés are
“the finest places for people alone not to feel lonely”
. Do you agree? Do you have places where you go when alone so as not to feel lonely?

ENHANCE YOUR BOOK CLUB

1. Read one of the authors Kati often quotes on Paris: Montaigne, Hemingway, or Proust. Discuss their portraits of Paris and of humanity.

2. Find a recipe for croissants, baguettes, or any other favorite French dish and bake or cook!

3. Get out a map of Paris and pinpoint some of the spots Kati enjoyed as a student and with Peter and Richard.

4. Interview your parents or grandparents about your own family history. Use the tools on the PBS website to delve into your ancestry:

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/facesofamerica/resources/trace-your-family-history/32/

A CONVERSATION WITH KATI MARTON

1. How were the professional cultures of ABC and NPR different?

The NPR culture was young and informal, and there was plenty of scope for rapid advancement. Within a few weeks of being hired as a researcher, I was handed a tape recorder and told to cover a news briefing at the State Department. Thus, I became
All Things Considered
’s first diplomatic correspondent. I was able to do long interviews with newsmakers—I mean half an hour long, if it was interesting enough. It was a wonderful, wide open place where you felt the thrill of being part of something new that you could help to shape. I was in my early twenties and I was having the time of my life while still working on a graduate degree in International Relations at GW University.

It was a whole different scene at ABC News. This was a well-established organization, top heavy with super stars like Barbara Walters and Peter Jennings (my future husband). I was the newest and least experienced foreign correspondent, and I lived day and night at the mercy of the New York assignment desk. It was a highly competitive environment and not an ideal place to be conducting a passionate love affair with the network’s soon-to-be star anchor. But I covered some amazing stories, including civil war in Zimbabwe and spy swaps in Cold War East Europe. I had a great ride.

2. Do you have any advice for readers on how to balance motherhood with ambition and career?

Balancing motherhood and professional ambition is never easy. It wasn’t in the ’80s or ’90s and it isn’t now. I always felt that I was letting somebody down: my employers, my children, my husband, and my own dreams. But I kept at it until I found what suited me and my absolute commitment to have a family. But it was always a compromise. I gave up my glamorous life as foreign correspondent for the more solitary life of a writer. There were unexpected rewards, however, and I think for me it was the right call. I just couldn’t bear to be away from my kids when they were little. It’s never perfect, and all I can say is, keep at it and be flexible. Some of the things we women undertake, I wouldn’t trade for any amount of professional success. I mean the human connections we form, the friendships, which take time, and of course becoming mothers, and not just at the margins of our careers. I wouldn’t give up any of these things for longer office hours.

3. If you were a young foreign correspondent today, where would you most like to be reporting from and why?

Today, I would love to be covering the unfolding drama of the Middle East as populations long oppressed by dictators demand their rights—rights we have taken for granted for centuries. It is an uncertain and sometimes violent passage, but it is historic, and I wish I were covering it.

4. When you began writing for
The Atlantic,
you recall feeling that print journalism was more satisfying than television. Why? Do you feel the same way today?

Print journalism—especially long form, such as writing for
The Atlantic,
and then ultimately writing books—has given me much greater satisfaction than the more elusive, adrenaline-charged reward of broadcast journal ism. I can open any of my books and read a passage whenever I feel like it, and know that I have written something no one else has—and that it is permanent.

5. In writing another article for
The Atlantic,
you discovered you are Jewish. What was that revelation like? How did it change your perception of yourself, and did it change your perception of global politics at all?

I was actually thrilled to discover my Jewish roots while researching my biography of Raoul Wallenberg. I had come to the U.S. as a little girl, leaving behind my Hungarian roots and painful family history (my parents were jailed as American spies when I was six years old, and I did not see them for almost two years), in exchange for a chance at a new life here in the United States. But I always yearned for a deeper sense of identity and sensed that something was missing from my family narrative—that our history did not begin in the United States. My parents chose to withhold our Jewish roots as they had been made to suffer for them in anti-Semitic, pre–World War II Hungary. In fact, I discovered that my maternal grandparents had perished in Auschwitz in 1944. This was a shock to learn at age thirty. I believe it is always a mistake to withhold essential family history from our children. I have tried to be very open with my own. My discovery of my Jewish roots at a rather advanced age did not lead me to a more religious life but certainly to a greater awareness of humanity’s capacity for evil, as well as the need for tolerance of cultural and ethnic differences. Perhaps I had those qualities before, but my personal discoveries enhanced those innate sympathies. As I accompanied my husband, Richard Holbrooke, during his successful mission to end the horrific violence in Bosnia, I became even more aware of the need for understanding and for energetic diplomacy in stopping ethnic conflicts before they turn genocidal.

6. Were your children interested in journalism? Would you advise young people to go into journalism today?

Journalism is a great and adventurous way of life. I have seen parts of the world I would never have been exposed to had I started out as an author, right out of college. The ten years I spent as a reporter enlarged my worldview immeasurably. So, yes, I would recommend it for anyone looking for adventure. It is not a particularly secure way of life, however, and not always easy to combine with a good family life. That is why I am happy I switched to writing books a couple of decades ago. But I maintain my involvement in the world through my pro bono work with such humanitarian organizations as the Committee to Protect Journalists, the International Rescue Committee, and Human Rights Watch. I chaired the International Women’s Health Coalition for five years. My daughter is working in the humanitarian field and has just finished two years of relief work in Haiti. My son is writing his first book. So I guess the apples haven’t fallen too far from the tree.

7. You quote Hemingway’s
A Moveable Feast
at each chapter opening. Is this an important book for you? What do you like about it? Do you like other Hemingway works?

As I wrote in
Paris: A Love Story,
Hemingway casts a huge shadow over all other American writers who have written from and about Paris. As I describe in my own book, Hemingway’s interaction with Parisians is very limited, and Paris is really mostly a backdrop for his novels about expatriate life. I hugely admire his disciplined style, his tightly woven plots, and sometimes heartbreaking longing for what was lost along the way—especially in
A Moveable Feast
.

8. What are you most proud of accomplishing in your life? What do you think Richard was most proud of? And what was it for Peter?

I am most proud of having raised two really great kids! Same goes for Richard and Peter.

9. You write candidly about your affair with a man in Budapest while married to Richard, and the allure of a simpler life and a connection to your Hungarian roots. Is this draw toward a simpler life something that you’ve struggled with or felt torn by for all of your professional life? Do you still feel attracted to a less high-powered, public lifestyle?

Paris: A Love Story
is an honest account of my life, and therefore I felt I owed the reader an account of the period when I allowed a friendship with another man to go too far. It was a mistake, but it reinforced my commitment to my husband and his to me. We had tested our bond. That friendship grew out of my need for a more quiet and a more European life. The life I am living now, since the sudden death of my beloved Richard, a public man with a super-charged life, is a more quiet life. I set my own pace now and take more time to savor simpler pleasures, the colors, smells, and textures of things—whether in Paris or in New York. I miss certain aspects of my life with Richard, but mostly I just miss him. I am learning to live on my own for the first time. The freedom is quite exhilarating, and I am learning slowly to cope with the occasional loneliness. Friends help tremendously!

10. Have you considered moving to Paris for good?

I am too American to live full-time in Paris. But I certainly love having a part-time Parisian life, especially as my sister lives there and my children have also come to love the city.

11. Are there any other cities in the world you love as much, or almost as much, as Paris?

I also love my hometown of Budapest—another exquisitely beautiful city. But New York is my town now.

12. After Richard’s death, you return to Paris and write eloquently about your changes in old patterns and the shift in your self-definition when no longer a part of a couple. You write that you observed yourself and your actions as you would a stranger (p. 170). How do you perceive yourself now?

I do observe myself now as I would a stranger. I cheer myself on when I handle a rough situation with a degree of grace, and channel Richard when I mess up and can hear him telling me, You blew that one, Kati. I feel as if I am just now, at this ripe stage in my middle age, coming into my own. Life alone is much more challenging than when you have someone always watching your back. Of course, I was very lucky to have been part of such a close couple, but in a strange way, I feel lucky to have a chance to test myself now. I am a work in progress!

13. What are you working on these days?

I am doing a great deal of traveling now as
Paris: A Love Story
has had a very warm reception around the country. This is tremendously gratifying as it was not a pain-free process writing it. I am beginning to think about my next book (#9!). But for now, I am enjoying talking about this one and meeting people who also love Paris, or have had their hearts broken, or are going through some sort of an unexpected transition in their lives. There seem to be many of us out there!

This book is partly based on a journal I began following my husband’s sudden death. The letters to my parents and to Peter Jennings were an unexpected windfall, born of my need to sell my home of twenty-seven years. In the process of culling an Everest of accumulated possessions, I stumbled on long-forgotten letters kept by my parents and Peter, which triggered memories of my early Parisian life, first as a student, and then as a foreign correspondent.

I wrote the first rough draft of this book in the sublime sanctuary of the Rockefeller Foundation’s Bellagio residence, on Lake Como, Italy. I am grateful to Steven Heintz, President of the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, and Judith Rodin, President of the Rockefeller Foundation, for their help in arranging this residency for me.

Throughout this past pain-drenched year, my agent, Amanda Urban, has been my steady and wise friend. This is our seventh book together, and I cannot imagine my writing life without Binky’s remarkable combination of loving support and determination to coax the best from me.

This is my third book with the brilliant Alice Mayhew. Alice
was patient as I searched to find my voice in a new medium: a memoir. I am blessed with an editor who believes in me and imbues each new project with the excitement of the first.

Alice and the Simon & Schuster team of Jackie Seow, Nancy Singer, Gypsy da Silva, Julia Prosser, Karyn Marcus, and Jon Cox are the best in the business, and I feel privileged to work with them.

Jonathan Karp’s early enthusiasm for this book gave me—and the project—a great lift.

Larissa MacFarquhar, a wonderful writer and generous friend, was my first reader and made important suggestions. Richard Bernstein, Eliza Griswold, and George Packer took time from their own books to improve mine in so many ways—and to keep my spirits up through this hard year.

My assistant, Loryn Hatch, has been a calm presence as my life was upended. I thank Loryn for her remarkable efficiency, humanity, and intelligence.

My Paris family: my sister, Julia; my nephews Mathieu and Nicolas; as well as Sabine and the irresistible Lucien, poured love, wine, laughter, and shared tears. My brother, Andrew, provided the background music to family gatherings.

My beloved friends Bernard Kouchner and Christine Ockrent defined Paris for Richard and me. As Richard once scribbled on the Closerie de Lilas place mat, “Dîner avec Christine et Bernard, au Closerie, quel rêve de Paris!” We were a rare foursome and have now become a loving trio.

Finally, I could not have gotten through the year following Richard’s death, nor written this book, without my children
Elizabeth Jennings and Christopher Jennings’ loving support. It was essential for me that they read and approve of this work, as they, and their father, are part of the narrative. I have dedicated this work to Richard, but it is really for all my family, those present, and those who are present in these pages. It is my way of keeping them close.