Remarkable journalism: John Hersey's Hiroshima

Hiroshima: the first city in the world to be destroyed by a nuclear bomb and a book by John Hersey. Unlike the city, the book was never destroyed. But both have only rebuilt themselves since the event – the city, literally and the book in numbers of copies.

Hiroshima is the largest Japanese city in the Chugoku region, the largest island of Japan. On August 6, 1945 the United States of America dropped an atomic bomb on the city. It killed 80,000 people almost instantly.

John Hersey was assigned to report on what happened. Rather than telling the story of crushed buildings, he told the stories of six lucky survivors’s crushed lives.

The intention was to print the 36,000 word article in four instalments in The New Yorker, but once the story was written no one wanted to break the piece up. It was kept a secret from New Yorker employees and on August 31, 1946, John Hersey’s Hiroshima filled the magazine.

The article was a hit. Harold Ross, editor of The New Yorker, said he’d never felt so satisfied with a publication after Hiroshima was printed. Copies sold out on newsstands and were being scalped for $15 to $20 – the magazine cost 15 cents. Apparently Albert Einstein even tried to order 1,000 copies – that never happened. And ABC radio dedicated four half-hour long programs to reading the story on-air.

The sensation was so huge, the article was eventually printed as a book and has been continuously reprinted since.

And for good reason – I think. The story is especially effective for two reasons: (1) Hersey’s dry, reportorial style of journalism lets the subjects’s stories write themselves. We don’t need his opinion. And (2) Hiroshima tells the stories of human beings, not buildings, not war politics. This allows readers to connect with the narratives. It’s an emotional ‘real person’ story. Everyone can relate to a struggle, therefore, everyone can read Hersey’s article and grasp, at least a portion of, the magnitude of the situation those six survivors went through – this instead of trying to relate to some political figure’s decision to drop the bomb.

I wonder, however, if pictures were missing from the book. On the one hand, they’d provide readers answers to their burning questions of what many scenarios and people looked like. What did these people look like? Hersey never really describes anyone. But on the other hand, the fact that Hersey focuses on presenting facts allows readers to imagine. The lack of pictures force readers to over-exaggerate the devastation, an effect that I think was intended and necessary, because adding pictures would mean filling in a part of the mystery for readers. Keeping this away from them makes them feel vulnerable when it comes to the possibilities of how things could’ve looked. This vulnerable feeling is essential if readers want to even begin to understand how these people might’ve felt.

At least that’s how I felt as I read the book.

Another thing that resonated with me is how Hersey never put himself into the story. He just presented other people’s information and facts surrounding the bombing. Hersey never had to try and make the story emotional because he let it be emotional. By this I mean, rather than trying to show readers where they should feel emotion, he just presented the information and let them decide the emotional parts – and there were many.

I think this is a technique that a journalist can try and mock as much as possible.

But at the same time, I question this idea because there are many other journalistic pieces where a journalist puts themselves in the story. For example the documentary film: Shake Hands with the Devil: The Journey of Roméo Dallaire. Dallaire, even though he’s not a journalist by profession plays the role of one throughout the 1994 Rwandan genocide to try and bring international attention to the issue in attempt to help stop it. While Dallaire told the stories of others, he also told his own. His story evoked a lot of emotion as well.

This leaves me to conclude that there isn’t necessarily a better way to tell a story. But I will say there is a more difficult way: that’s the Hersey way. He wasn’t in Hiroshima when the bomb dropped. He took no part in the story other than to be the one to tell it. The amount of research he likely had to go through pulling stories like that from people going through such an emotional and traumatic time is not only amazing – it’s reflective of his journalistic talent.

Also note: I chose to add a picture of two Hiroshima victims. What do you think about including them?

(Photos taken from: amazon.com; hiroshima.com; discoverhiroshima.com)

Long term journalism

Oi. It can be confusing.

Since March 2010, I've been working on a book about the town of Powerview-Pine Falls, Manitoba and the impact the paper mill's closure has had on the community. I began my research and interviews over the summer and came up with a carefully crafted outline in Sept./Oct. based on the information I received from that research and those interviews.

The results were mainly negative in the sense that many were concerned with how the town was going to continue.

However, as I return to the area for more interviews or follow-up interviews, I'm already beginning to notice a change in the way people talk about the area -- they're more positive about their situation and trying to reconstruct a base for a solid town with what they have. Or so it seems.

The confusing part is trying to represent both categories of feelings and knowing I'll likely be experiencing more of this attitude change as I continue. I'm so used to writing quick articles -- the interview happens, people have their opinion, I fire off the story. Done. Now it's all about updating my chapters to how people are feeling now, while still representing how they felt then too...which was only a few months away.

Dealing with the slight attitude changes is something I never expected and a challenge I'm facing.

Stay tuned to see how it all plays out.

Sharing my student wisdom with those who can stand it

I’m the arts editor for the Projector.

With the job comes several challenges. Three repeatedly come to mind, actually.

1. Knowing I’m not an expert editor, but having to act confident about my decisions.
2. Acknowledging and accepting the fact that there are bigger, more popular news sources than mine – this means my story lists must be extra unique to draw attention.
3. Being in charge of the arts sections often means a lot of event coverage – because we print every two weeks the news gets old fast, so it’s a challenge to try and encourage writers to find a broader way to cover an event… sometimes even I’m not sure.

This week I’m working on hiring arts editor interns. They'll run the Projector while second-year CreComms are on workplacement. The task is both exciting, because I get to play a part in scouting new talent, and overwhelming, because who am I to say who's the best? I’m also reminded that I was in their shoes last year – how much could I have possibly learned since then?

A lot actually.

This position made everything my instructors had been telling me over the past year make sense. I realized writing needed to be clear before it could be creative. I also realized no writer is perfect. Something can always be fixed. Editing is like solving a puzzle – the edges are easy, it’s completing the inside that’s tough, and that's when many people give up.

A few things I’ve learnt since working for the Projector is:

• That assuming proper nouns are spelt correctly, no matter how good the writer is, is a bad idea
• That leads and context couldn’t be more essential to a story – a writer who can do both is talented
• That formatting is an annoying thing to have to fix, but an easy thing to fix
• That no matter how hard you try to make submission instructions clear, there’s always going to be someone who gets it wrong – you just have to deal with it
• That the best stories are the hardest to edit but you have to stick with them because there’s going to be something to fix
• That it's always important to double check facts
• That it's important to understand one can never stop editing, but one needs to – it’s important to keep the original story
• That headline writing is so not my thing

When editing, I try and give students feedback as much as possible because I know I always appreciate it when people do it for me. But, while I hope they consider my advice when I'm offering it, I also hope they take it with a grain of salt – it was only a year ago I was in their shoes.

Acting confident is something I continuously work on, so I don’t have a solution for that yet. However, I think I can pull it off in front of student writers; I just have to put up with my brain’s internal arguments later.

The latter two challenges I feel are self-explanatory. Every paper, big or small, deals with competition. Every paper tries to be unique. The only thing that makes me think the Projector has particular challenges is the fact that we have a small distribution and students within the program often say it’s weak.

This is what drives me to try and be extra creative with my story lists...which leads me to my next point: you can only try so hard and then it’s up to someone else.

I hate assigning event coverage stories. I try not to. Either I’ll try and guide the assigned writer into a direction that uses an event to drive a larger story or I’ll say what the larger story could be.

It's not always successful in the end, but I have to trust the writer did their best. The writers also have to trust that I do my best, but my best still isn't perfect. Although I might've learnt the above list of things doesn't mean I'm great at it. Those writing for me and I are all students.

And at the end of the day, all we can do is fake it ‘til we make it.

I raise my hand

Why do academics write out their secondary sources in their essays but journalists don't?

Twitter: The industrial revolution of journalism

You’re probably sick of hearing about it, but here I go anyway.

Many people think social media, especially Twitter, is becoming one of the new faces of journalism. While I agree it is shaping the way we approach our news, I ask: Who really wants it to be like this?

My evidence suggests no one really, so who’s pushing so hard to make it happen?
Last weekend, the two most interesting stories in two major newspapers were lengthy investigative pieces. The Globe and Mail reported on Canada’s role in peacekeeping and the Winnipeg Free Press broke a story on the effects of no running water in Manitoba reserves. I mustn’t be the only one taking interest in these types of stories because they both made the front page.

In addition, while filming an entertainment profile for school, I got into a discussion with one of the interviewees who was saying she hates how TV news stories have been cut down so much and how there are fewer and fewer feature stories and documentaries. Those are the one’s she’s interested in, she said. Sure, it’s tough, funding for these types of projects is tricky due to the magnitude of the expense. But isn’t it worth it? If journalists only ever report on what happened that day, whether it is in their papers or via Twitter, then aren’t we only ever keeping records of events. How can we change things if we don’t look into the roots of the issues?

One of the reasons why I wanted to become a journalist was to do so. Oftentimes, I feel like that’s discouraged nowadays.

Why are journalists always trying to move quicker and quicker to get the stories done faster and faster? How much faster can we work until quality is absent and quantity becomes everything…or are we already there?