Many years ago I was a theatre critic, and over the years I’ve seen and written about plays of all sorts, from the powerful and provocative to the bland and banal. But I’ve never experienced the strange, eerie, even disturbing emotions that occurred recently when hearing my own name repeated and my own voice played on the stage of one of the world’s great theatres. But this is what happened at the press night of Giant at the Royal Court.
The play is written by Mark Rosenblatt and is about the famous children’s author Roald Dahl, who is played by the excellent John Lithgow. Mark contacted me three years ago, explained that he intended to write a drama about Dahl and his antisemitism, and asked if he could interview me. The reason was that in 1983, working at my first job in journalism at The New Statesman, I interviewed Dahl about a book review he’d written.
The book was God Cried, about Israel’s 1982 invasion of Lebanon, but Dahl went much further than criticising Israel. He wrote of “a race of people” — the Jews — who had “switched so rapidly from victims to barbarous murderers”, and that the United States was “so utterly dominated by the great Jewish financial institutions” that “they dare not defy” Israel. I was surprised that he agreed to be interviewed but he seemed more than willing. The conversation started politely enough but then he said: “There is a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity, maybe it’s a kind of lack of generosity towards non-Jews.” And then: “I mean, there’s always a reason why anti-anything crops up anywhere.” Pause. “Even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.” He then said that when he was in the armed forces during the Second World War, he and his friends never saw any Jewish fighting men.
Fallout from the call
I was 24, inexperienced, and likely in mild shock. I wasn’t entirely sure that I’d heard him correctly but that was just wishful thinking. Of course I had. I told him that my father was Jewish, that my grandfather had won all sorts of medals in North Africa and Europe, that Jews fought in enormous numbers in all of the Allied armies, were often over rather than under- represented, and that this grotesque old canard of Jewish cowardice was obscene.
It’s hard to believe now, but he simply continued the interview, was courteous if cold, and even asked if I had enough material for my article. I said that I had more than enough, thank you very much. There was a polite goodbye, the interview ran in the next edition of the magazine, and while there was a good amount of shock and outrage, nothing really happened. In spite of his views Dahl became even more popular and even more wealthy, his books are regularly made into films, and there was even a glowing biopic made about him. My interview would go on to be quoted every few years but was largely forgotten until now.
What Mark Rosenblatt has achieved is something like an intellectual, emotional and political tennis game, or perhaps boxing match, where Dahl and those around him parry and spar around the themes of antisemitism, Jewishness, Israel and Zionism. All subjects that are acutely topical of course. Dahl often has some of the best lines, but whenever he seems to be gaining the upper hand he bleeds over into sheer racism, a grim hatred that his eloquence and wit can’t disguise.
Against cancellation
Then, at the finale, comes me, as it were. I telephone Dahl, played by Lithgow, my voice is played by the marvellous actor Richard Hope, and for 10 minutes on the speakerphone Roald Dahl and I argue and debate. Then the play ends.
And it’s one of the most challenging and emotional things that’s ever happened to me. There I sat, hearing back a conversation I suppose I’d buried, tried to expunge from my consciousness, pretended I’d gotten over. But, of course, I hadn’t. And as much as on this night I was thrilled by the jolt of attention, I felt vaguely sick inside. John Lithgow has a shape-shifting genius that we’ve seen in numerous roles, and watching him on stage and hearing him speak to me — to me! — was like a slap to the face. But it had to be that way, otherwise what was the point?
At the party held afterwards several people asked me what happened to Dahl after my interview. My answer was always the same. Absolutely nothing. Here lies the central point. I’ve always been opposed to cancelling writers and artists because of their politics, or re-writing their work so as not to offend various sensibilities.
I love Wagner but detest his ideas, I adore GK Chesterton but cringe at some of his comments about Jews. My wife and I read Dahl to all of our four children and it’s because of, not in spite of, his often mean language, nasty characters and terrifying plots that children are so captivated by the man.
As for the constant campaign to dilute Dahl, and so many other supposedly controversial writers, in case they offend or hurt or trigger, the answer is that if you’re worried simply don’t read them.
The thing is, those who want to edit him aren’t passing comment on Dahl’s antisemitism, because while there may be some deeply hidden anti-Jewish references in his writing, they’re obscure and irrelevant. The professionally timid types are all about control rather than kindness. My views on Dahl now are the same as they were 40 years ago when I interviewed him. He was a genius, his works should stand forever as they were originally written, and he understood children’s fears, fantasies and loves to an unparalleled degree. He was also a vile racist whose hatred of Jews shames his memory and has hurt countless people. I’d have his books in my home without a second thought, but if he were still alive and wanted to visit, I’d tell him to go to hell.
