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- BOOKS, Page 98Fat Pickings
-
-
- By Stefan Kanfer
-
-
- SKETCHES FROM A LIFE
- by George F. Kennan Pantheon;
- 365 pages; $22.95
-
- Dr. Anton Chekhov once remarked that medicine was his wife
- and literature his mistress. Ambassador George F. Kennan, 85,
- acknowledges that his own situation is "analogous, except that
- the mistress was far less beautiful than Chekhov's and had to
- content herself with much smaller pickings."
-
- Kennan's statement contains his typical amalgam of
- self-effacement and presumption. The diplomat and historian has
- written 17 books on 19th and 20th century foreign policy; he
- knows very well that his current "pickings" contain 61 years of
- incomparable observations. He was in Germany when the Nazis
- rose to power, and in the U.S.S.R. during Stalin's purges. Since
- his departure from the Foreign Service in 1953 he has visited
- almost every dry surface of the globe, and he has never
- forgotten his notebook. From it he has now culled Sketches from
- a Life, which brims with diverting character analyses,
- appraisals of nations and even attempts at fiction and poetry.
-
- As early as 1927, the young vice consul senses an
- approaching malaise in Hamburg: "The city talks with a thrilling
- breathless strength through the restless machinery of its
- harbor, and yet talks with the voice of unutterable horror,
- through the lurid, repulsive alleys of St. Pauli." Kennan
- watches a 23-year-old pianist who is "Jewish, from Russia, and
- evidently is rumored to be near to death with tuberculosis . .
- . When he played . . . it seemed as though he himself were being
- played upon by some unseen musician -- as though every note were
- being wrung out of him." Many things have altered in six
- decades, but not the performance of Vladimir Horowitz.
-
- Shortly after Pearl Harbor, Kennan is imprisoned by the
- Nazis. Released, he goes on to serve in Portugal, London and
- then, as the war winds down, the Soviet Union. In the early
- days, the writer regards the country less as a diplomat than as
- a romantic novelist manque. Leningrad is "one of the most
- poignant communities of the world . . . I know that in this
- city, where I have never lived, there had nevertheless been
- deposited by some strange quirk of fate -- a previous life,
- perhaps? -- a portion of my own capacity to feel and to love."
-
- But Kennan says little in Sketches about the great distress
- the Soviet Union caused him. In fact he was expelled from the
- U.S.S.R. in 1952 for criticizing the government. "I was
- interned . . . in Germany for several months during the last
- war," he complained to reporters while traveling in West Berlin.
- "The treatment we receive in Moscow is just about like the
- treatment we internees received then." Soviet officials
- considered his remarks "slanderous attacks . . . in a rude
- violation of generally recognized norms of international law."
- Soon afterward Secretary of State John Foster Dulles terminated
- his career.
-
- Taking up the narrative with his return to the U.S., Kennan
- allows his wit to twinkle. California reminds him "of the
- popular American Protestant concept of heaven: there is always
- a reasonable flow of new arrivals; one meets many -- not all --
- of one's friends . . . and the newcomer is slightly disconcerted
- to realize that now -- the devil having been banished and virtue
- being triumphant -- nothing terribly interesting can ever happen
- again."
-
- Perhaps that is why Kennan spends so much of his
- postdiplomatic career at Princeton University's Institute for
- Advanced Study. There, many terribly interesting things continue
- to happen, and he remains stimulated -- and stimulating. Only
- in the last pages does his spirit flag. Sketches concludes with
- melancholia. Kennan regrets "the blind and helpless way in which
- each generation of us . . . staggers through life: occupying
- briefly the little patch of apparent light between the darkness
- of the past we have so largely forgotten and the darkness of the
- future that we cannot see." The assessment is too harsh -- on
- humanity, and on the diarist. As Opus 18 happily demonstrates,
- every generation has a few individuals who illuminate those
- darknesses with their own intense candlepower.
-
-