Of all the things I thought might happen in my life, my name being spoken by a film star at the Royal Court Theatre wasn’t high on the list. But it’s going to happen tonight, and for many nights to come. The actor is John Lithgow, the play is Giant, by Mark Rosenblatt, and at the epicentre is the author and rabid antisemite Roald Dahl.
My connection goes back to 1983 when as a very young journalist working for the New Statesman, I was asked to interview Dahl after he’d written a venomous article in the Literary Review. His piece was a review of a book called God Cried, an account of Israel’s invasion of Lebanon in 1982. But rather than an objective discussion he wrote of “a race of people” who had “switched so rapidly from victims to barbarous murderers”, and that the US was “so utterly dominated by the great Jewish financial institutions” that “they dare not defy” Israel. It’s sobering to realise that as repugnant as these comments were, today they may well go completely unchallenged. Not by me, however, now or then.
When I initially asked Dahl for an interview he was gracious and willing. The actual telephone interview began with small talk, and I told him I was a fan of his work. Then, sure that he’d make some sort of apology about the article or explain that he’d let his baser emotions run amok, I asked about what he’d written. With no change of tone, he began, “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. Even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.”
I was in my early 20s, just out of university, and frankly a little out of my depth. I wondered if I’d misheard him, or even if this was obscure satire. He confirmed that I hadn’t, that he meant it, and repeated it to make sure. I paused, gathered my thoughts, and then explained that three of my grandparents were Jewish and that what he’d just said was stupid and repulsive. It was as though I hadn’t spoken, hadn’t responded. He simply ignored me and continued, with some nonsense about how he’d fought in the Second World War and that he and his friends never saw any Jewish soldiers.
I stopped him and said they couldn’t have looked very hard because there were hundreds of thousands, in all the allied armies, navies and air forces. Many were heroes and my grandpa, a Whitechapel tailor before the war, won medals fighting in North Africa, Sicily and Italy. Jewish men and women were, I continued, probably over-represented in the armed forces.
I got the impression he was now speaking to someone else in the room because I could hear him mumbling. Now I think about it, perhaps he was talking to himself. I certainly didn’t seem to matter, but then I was Jewish. He said something about “sticking together”. I asked if he wanted to withdraw anything that he’d said but he replied very clinically, “No thank you, I think I’ve made myself very clear. Goodbye.”
My interview was published in the New Statesman. There was some controversy and shock, but this was before social media and 24-hour news, and the entire incident seemed to pass within a week. It didn’t pass me, of course, and I’ve never forgotten what he said and how I felt. In the years since then my interview has sometimes been mentioned, often without acknowledgement. Even a family member, who is a well-known journalist, said to me once, “I didn’t know that was you!” Oh well, not being linked to Dahl won’t lose me any sleep.
When some years later he was asked by another journalist if he’d changed his mind at all, he said: “I’m certainly anti-Israeli, and I’ve become antisemitic.” Actually, I think he always was. Look at some of his fictional characters and you’ll see what I mean.
And now comes a fascinating play discussing Dahl and antisemitism, at a time when his spew is more fashionable and acceptable than it has been in many decades. The response will reveal a great deal, and it might not always be pleasant. I’m sure the old sod would love that.
Michael Coren’s latest book, his memoir, is Heaping Coals @michaelcoren
