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The Bang-Bang Club: Snapshots from a Hidden War
Most people, upon hearing gunfire, would run away and hide. Conflict photojournalists have the opposite reaction: they actually look for trouble, and when they find it, get as close as possible and stand up to get the best shot. This thirst for the shot and the seeming nonchalance to the risks entailed earned Greg Marinovich, Joao Silva, Ken Oosterbroek, and Kevin Carter the moniker of the Bang-Bang Club. Oosterbroek was killed in township violence just days before South Africa's historic panracial elections. Carter, whose picture of a Sudanese child apparently being stalked by a vulture won him a Pulitzer Prize, killed himself shortly afterwards. Another of their posse, Gary Bernard, who had held Oosterbroek as he died, also committed suicide.
The Bang-Bang Club is a memoir of a time of rivalry, comradeship, machismo, and exhilaration experienced by a band of young South African photographers as they documented their country's transition to democracy. We forget too easily the political and ethnic violence that wracked South Africa as apartheid died a slow, spasmodic death. Supporters of the ANC and Inkatha fought bloody battles every day. The white security forces were complicit in fomenting and enabling some of the worst violence. All the while, the Bang-Bang Club took pictures. And while they did, they were faced with the moral dilemma of how far they should go in pursuit of an image, and whether there was a point at which they should stop their shooting and try to intervene.
This is a riveting and appalling book. It is simply written--these guys are photographers, not writers--but extremely engaging. They were adrenaline junkies who partied hard and prized the shot above all else. None of them was a hero; these men come across as overweeningly ambitious, egotistical, reckless, and selfish, though also brave and even principled. As South Africans, they were all invested in their country's future, even though, as whites, they were strangers in their own land as they covered the Hostel wars in the black townships. The mixture of the romantic appeal of the war correspondent with honest assessments of their personal failings is part of what makes this account so compelling and so singular among books of its ilk. – J. Riches
254 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2000
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 219 reviews
November 12, 2012
The sentence that best summarizes this poignant read for me is from page 153, "Good pictures. Tragedy and violence certainly make powerful images. It is what we get paid for. But there is a price extracted with every such frame: some of the emotion, the vulnerability, the empathy that makes us human, is lost every time the shutter is released." Although you won't know this while reading, it perhaps explains why Greg Marinovich is no longer shooting conflict.
While this book is the story of deep friendships and camaraderie, it is also a story of tragedy. The photographers cope with their work through heavy drinking and drug abuse and it leads to the eventual suicide of their friend Kevin. Kevin made one of the world's iconic images, of a vulture stalking a little girl in Sudan. While it is a stunning image and won the Pulitzer Prize, the questions that arose after the photograph about what the photographer had done to help, or not, the little girl in the photograph haunted him.
If you follow photojournalism at all, you'll have heard of Joao Silva. He tells the story along with Greg Marinovich. This book truly gives insight into the world of conflict photography in a raw, matter of fact way. If war photography is a genre in which you're interested then this book is well worth the read.
While this book is the story of deep friendships and camaraderie, it is also a story of tragedy. The photographers cope with their work through heavy drinking and drug abuse and it leads to the eventual suicide of their friend Kevin. Kevin made one of the world's iconic images, of a vulture stalking a little girl in Sudan. While it is a stunning image and won the Pulitzer Prize, the questions that arose after the photograph about what the photographer had done to help, or not, the little girl in the photograph haunted him.
If you follow photojournalism at all, you'll have heard of Joao Silva. He tells the story along with Greg Marinovich. This book truly gives insight into the world of conflict photography in a raw, matter of fact way. If war photography is a genre in which you're interested then this book is well worth the read.
January 27, 2018
Once again I have returned to the world of Autobiographies this time with infamous Bang Bang Club of South Africa. A name I would point out not of there own coshing but one given to them by a fellow journalist. Going into this book I knew little of apartheid and the events that took place in South Africa in the early nineties. What led me to read this book was a picture that many people have seen the world over. One that had haunted me ever since I had seen it many years ago. It wasn't however until recently that I discovered the man who took the photograph had committed suicide not long after winning an award for it. I started to do some research about Kevin Carter and the photo he had taken this, in turn, lead me to the small group of South Africans photographers who had risked everything to show the world a conflict that was tearing the country apart.
As the book start the author threw me in at the deep end with an inability to swim in these unfamiliar waters. Within moments Greg and a fellow photograph Ken Oosterbroek are lying shot on a township street in the middle of a gunfight between peacekeepers and local opposition fighters. It defiantly grabbed my attention. But while they describe the scene in intense detail little context is given. It is only as I moved forward through the book and back in time did it reveal the incredible story of how these two men and the rest of the little club came to be there on that fateful day.
Primarily this is a book about a ragtag group of people who were using old cameras to try and capture a pivotal moment in their countries history. Between the two authors, they manage to give an unflinching account of their time leading up to the election that would end apartheid. While the style of the book is easy to read the subject matter for me was definitely not. There where a couple of time I had to put the book down just to take a break from the scenes that were being shown to me. The photos they captured would change the way the world saw South Africa. In the process of getting these photos there, actions seemed at times to verge on insanity. But for the most part none of them could let go of the job they had chosen to take on addicted to the hunt for the next image. But like all junkies, they also suffered the side effects of their dangerous habit.
Not all of them would make it out alive and the ones that did were left with both physical and emotional damage that will stay with them the rest of there lives. None more so than Kevin Carter who under growing press from both outside forces and the demons he carried in his own mind chose to end his life. For me this sets up the great underlying theme of the book how do you justify your actions as a war photographer. whatever image you supply to the papers is of another's death some atrocity committed on a fellow human being. I think one of the powerful messages this book gave me is that you can't. There is no amount of rationalization that can heal these wounds all you can do is learn to live with it and carry that weight the best you can.
Whilst this books primary job is telling the story of the bang bang club it gave me an illuminating insight into a time and place I knew little about. It sits alongside their own story giving insight into the key events that took place and the people that made them happen. Both topics are fascinating on there own but combined make this book a force to be reckoned with. This for me was a very emotional read taking me right into the heart of darkness. A mixture of obsession and the clashing of political ideas this is a book that will open your eyes to not only the story behind some of the most iconic images of that decade, but also shows the human toll that was shed in blood and tears to end a far-right governments control of a country.
As the book start the author threw me in at the deep end with an inability to swim in these unfamiliar waters. Within moments Greg and a fellow photograph Ken Oosterbroek are lying shot on a township street in the middle of a gunfight between peacekeepers and local opposition fighters. It defiantly grabbed my attention. But while they describe the scene in intense detail little context is given. It is only as I moved forward through the book and back in time did it reveal the incredible story of how these two men and the rest of the little club came to be there on that fateful day.
Primarily this is a book about a ragtag group of people who were using old cameras to try and capture a pivotal moment in their countries history. Between the two authors, they manage to give an unflinching account of their time leading up to the election that would end apartheid. While the style of the book is easy to read the subject matter for me was definitely not. There where a couple of time I had to put the book down just to take a break from the scenes that were being shown to me. The photos they captured would change the way the world saw South Africa. In the process of getting these photos there, actions seemed at times to verge on insanity. But for the most part none of them could let go of the job they had chosen to take on addicted to the hunt for the next image. But like all junkies, they also suffered the side effects of their dangerous habit.
Not all of them would make it out alive and the ones that did were left with both physical and emotional damage that will stay with them the rest of there lives. None more so than Kevin Carter who under growing press from both outside forces and the demons he carried in his own mind chose to end his life. For me this sets up the great underlying theme of the book how do you justify your actions as a war photographer. whatever image you supply to the papers is of another's death some atrocity committed on a fellow human being. I think one of the powerful messages this book gave me is that you can't. There is no amount of rationalization that can heal these wounds all you can do is learn to live with it and carry that weight the best you can.
Whilst this books primary job is telling the story of the bang bang club it gave me an illuminating insight into a time and place I knew little about. It sits alongside their own story giving insight into the key events that took place and the people that made them happen. Both topics are fascinating on there own but combined make this book a force to be reckoned with. This for me was a very emotional read taking me right into the heart of darkness. A mixture of obsession and the clashing of political ideas this is a book that will open your eyes to not only the story behind some of the most iconic images of that decade, but also shows the human toll that was shed in blood and tears to end a far-right governments control of a country.
April 8, 2020
I took a visual journalism class at Boston University with Greg Marinovich last year. As happens with many of the teachers and instructors I’ve encounter in your life, I did not really know much about him as a person. All I knew what was in front of me: Here was a man who walked with a funny gait and spoke with a foreign accent but explained the fundamentals of photography like no one I’ve ever met. He was personable yet encouraging, pushing people to strive for things that he knew was within their grasp. I’m not ashamed to say that he was one of the best instructors I’ve ever had.
But I had no idea who he was. I had no clue what his story was, all the terrible things he’s seen and experienced and taken pictures of. I had some vague knowledge that he was a Pulitzer Prize winner but knew not why.
Then a year later, my history of journalism professor assigned this book. Technically, I didn’t have to read it, but I was curious. So I read the first chapter, and I was hooked.
The book is Marinovich’s (and a fellow photojournalist’s) memoir. The writing was clear and straight forward, not terrific (he is a photographer not a writer after all), but the events were engaging enough to retain my attention. They tell of the time between 1990 and 1999 as Marinovich and others covered the Hostel Wars in South Africa. Really there are two stories contained within these pages: that of Marinovich and his friends’ and that of South Africa.
The Bang-Bang Club refers to a group of photojournalists that made their name covering the conflict that sparked around the time Apartheid ended, also known as the Hostel Wars. It was a complicated battle, full of propaganda as well as various tribal, political, and racial divides that can be hard to understand even to South Africans. Then take in consideration that the fighting didn’t really get much international media attention save the first post-Apartheid election in 1994, and you can understand why a good half of this book is devoted to explaining the situation that they were covering.
It was interesting, if a bit repetitive. You don’t really learn about this stuff in school. Sure, they mention apartheid and how bad it was, but they never really explain the complex conflicts surrounding it. In a way, the inclusion of the explanation of the fighting is more of a history lesson than a rundown of the context that the photojournalists were working in. But that’s okay. It’s interesting anyway.
The other part of the book of course follows Marinovich and the others of the Bang-Bang Club as they develop as photojournalists, win awards, make friends, and struggle with the effects of covering a very ruthless conflict. It’s a personal story but it also covers the ethics and emotional dilemmas of photographing war – the battle between a photojournalist’s duty to capture and a person’s duty to help. I mean, when a person is tasked with documenting events, what are they supposed to do when a man is burning or a child is starving in front of them? This struggle to justify their actions affects each in the Bang-Bang Club in different ways, from mild depression all the way to suicide.
It’s so private and frank in some moments that I felt strange reading it, having already met and formed an opinion about Marinovich. It’s similar to the feeling you get when you realize that your parents are people too, that they’re not some one-sided entity here on Earth with the sole purpose to help you. I honestly don’t know what I’d say to Marinovich when I will encounter him in the hallways after reading this book. What do I say to someone who is such a good photojournalist that his talent intimidates me? What do I say to someone who has seen and experience all that crap? I guess I just have to keep reminding myself that really nothing has changed. Regardless of what happened in the past, he is still the same fantastic instructor that I had last year.
But I had no idea who he was. I had no clue what his story was, all the terrible things he’s seen and experienced and taken pictures of. I had some vague knowledge that he was a Pulitzer Prize winner but knew not why.
Then a year later, my history of journalism professor assigned this book. Technically, I didn’t have to read it, but I was curious. So I read the first chapter, and I was hooked.
The book is Marinovich’s (and a fellow photojournalist’s) memoir. The writing was clear and straight forward, not terrific (he is a photographer not a writer after all), but the events were engaging enough to retain my attention. They tell of the time between 1990 and 1999 as Marinovich and others covered the Hostel Wars in South Africa. Really there are two stories contained within these pages: that of Marinovich and his friends’ and that of South Africa.
The Bang-Bang Club refers to a group of photojournalists that made their name covering the conflict that sparked around the time Apartheid ended, also known as the Hostel Wars. It was a complicated battle, full of propaganda as well as various tribal, political, and racial divides that can be hard to understand even to South Africans. Then take in consideration that the fighting didn’t really get much international media attention save the first post-Apartheid election in 1994, and you can understand why a good half of this book is devoted to explaining the situation that they were covering.
It was interesting, if a bit repetitive. You don’t really learn about this stuff in school. Sure, they mention apartheid and how bad it was, but they never really explain the complex conflicts surrounding it. In a way, the inclusion of the explanation of the fighting is more of a history lesson than a rundown of the context that the photojournalists were working in. But that’s okay. It’s interesting anyway.
The other part of the book of course follows Marinovich and the others of the Bang-Bang Club as they develop as photojournalists, win awards, make friends, and struggle with the effects of covering a very ruthless conflict. It’s a personal story but it also covers the ethics and emotional dilemmas of photographing war – the battle between a photojournalist’s duty to capture and a person’s duty to help. I mean, when a person is tasked with documenting events, what are they supposed to do when a man is burning or a child is starving in front of them? This struggle to justify their actions affects each in the Bang-Bang Club in different ways, from mild depression all the way to suicide.
It’s so private and frank in some moments that I felt strange reading it, having already met and formed an opinion about Marinovich. It’s similar to the feeling you get when you realize that your parents are people too, that they’re not some one-sided entity here on Earth with the sole purpose to help you. I honestly don’t know what I’d say to Marinovich when I will encounter him in the hallways after reading this book. What do I say to someone who is such a good photojournalist that his talent intimidates me? What do I say to someone who has seen and experience all that crap? I guess I just have to keep reminding myself that really nothing has changed. Regardless of what happened in the past, he is still the same fantastic instructor that I had last year.
July 15, 2022
Trudna książka, pełna drastycznych scen: bólu, przemocy i czystej ludzkiej niegodziwości, do tego bohaterowie, których ciężko darzyć sympatią: chorzy, rządni sławy megalomani, uzależnieni od adrenaliny i widoku śmierci, jakby wyprani z empatii, sami pchający się ze swoimi aparatami na linię ognia. Do tego Bractwo Bang Bang jest po prostu kiepsko napisana.
Mimo wszystko książka warta przeczytania, bo gdyby nie te zdjęcia (niezależnie od pobudek jakimi się kierowali podczas ich wykonywania) świat nie zobaczyłby tragedii humanitarnych w Sudanie, czy w Somalii, ani ostatnich morderczych podrygów zbrodniczego apartheidu w RPA i wielu innych krwawych konfliktów na całym świecie, ciężko zatem przecenić ich działalność, szczególnie, że wielu z fotoreporterów wojennych zapłaciła za nie życiem.
Mimo wszystko książka warta przeczytania, bo gdyby nie te zdjęcia (niezależnie od pobudek jakimi się kierowali podczas ich wykonywania) świat nie zobaczyłby tragedii humanitarnych w Sudanie, czy w Somalii, ani ostatnich morderczych podrygów zbrodniczego apartheidu w RPA i wielu innych krwawych konfliktów na całym świecie, ciężko zatem przecenić ich działalność, szczególnie, że wielu z fotoreporterów wojennych zapłaciła za nie życiem.
February 8, 2021
Uma leitura forte e tensa e que retrata um dos períodos mais nefastos do século XX.
Dá pra escrever muita coisa sobre o que, de fato, é esse livro. Ele trata de temas que vão desde os absurdos inexplicáveis do racismo até as consequências terríveis de problemas desencadeados pela saúde mental, passando pelos limites do ofício jornalístico, dentre outros não menos presentes.
Eu acho bizarro pensar que o apartheid durou quase 50 anos em pleno século XX. Enquanto o Brasil comemorava o tetra no futebol, a África do Sul dava seus primeiros passos democráticos em uma nação destruída, dividida e endividada em razão de (mais) uma guerra sem sentido.
Falando um pouco sobre o aspecto jornalístico da obra, em tempos de fake news em que o Jornalismo talvez nunca tenha sido tão importante, o livro nos faz lembrar que capítulos abominantes da história só se tornaram conhecidos em razão do trabalho de fotojornalistas como os autores do livro e seus colegas de profissão.
Marquei vários trechos durante a leitura. Há muitas passagens impactantes que embrulham o estômago. Entre elas."Sem as nossas fotos, a única fonte de informação sobre o massacre teriam sido os porta-vozes da polícia e os partidos políticos. Os editores de muitas organizações nacionais e estrangeiras ainda aceitavam como verdadeiros os relatórios policiais, embora fosse evidente que a polícia era parte do problema".
Outra parte que me chamou a atenção e que me fez instantaneamente traçar um paralelo com o que vivemos no terraplanismo político que dominou o Brasil foi esse: "Depois de décadas de propaganda do governo, que demonizou os movimentos de libertação como parte de um ataque comunista e anticristão total contra a África do Sul, não era de surpreender que o policial branco médio, assim como o cidadão branco médio, detestasse e temesse os partidários do CNA (Congresso Nacional Africana - movimento negro de libertação fundado em 1912). A antipatia era mútua.".
Coincidência ou modus operandi de extremistas disfarçados de cordeiros de Deus?
Livros como esse me fazem pensar, pessimista, que a história da humanidade é composta por um looping infinito de erros, guerras e absurdos baseados em "verdades"construídas por aqueles que detém o poder da narrativa.
E como é triste insistirmos em não aprender com o passado e com fatos que estão escancarados bem diante de nossos olhos.
Dá pra escrever muita coisa sobre o que, de fato, é esse livro. Ele trata de temas que vão desde os absurdos inexplicáveis do racismo até as consequências terríveis de problemas desencadeados pela saúde mental, passando pelos limites do ofício jornalístico, dentre outros não menos presentes.
Eu acho bizarro pensar que o apartheid durou quase 50 anos em pleno século XX. Enquanto o Brasil comemorava o tetra no futebol, a África do Sul dava seus primeiros passos democráticos em uma nação destruída, dividida e endividada em razão de (mais) uma guerra sem sentido.
Falando um pouco sobre o aspecto jornalístico da obra, em tempos de fake news em que o Jornalismo talvez nunca tenha sido tão importante, o livro nos faz lembrar que capítulos abominantes da história só se tornaram conhecidos em razão do trabalho de fotojornalistas como os autores do livro e seus colegas de profissão.
Marquei vários trechos durante a leitura. Há muitas passagens impactantes que embrulham o estômago. Entre elas."Sem as nossas fotos, a única fonte de informação sobre o massacre teriam sido os porta-vozes da polícia e os partidos políticos. Os editores de muitas organizações nacionais e estrangeiras ainda aceitavam como verdadeiros os relatórios policiais, embora fosse evidente que a polícia era parte do problema".
Outra parte que me chamou a atenção e que me fez instantaneamente traçar um paralelo com o que vivemos no terraplanismo político que dominou o Brasil foi esse: "Depois de décadas de propaganda do governo, que demonizou os movimentos de libertação como parte de um ataque comunista e anticristão total contra a África do Sul, não era de surpreender que o policial branco médio, assim como o cidadão branco médio, detestasse e temesse os partidários do CNA (Congresso Nacional Africana - movimento negro de libertação fundado em 1912). A antipatia era mútua.".
Coincidência ou modus operandi de extremistas disfarçados de cordeiros de Deus?
Livros como esse me fazem pensar, pessimista, que a história da humanidade é composta por um looping infinito de erros, guerras e absurdos baseados em "verdades"construídas por aqueles que detém o poder da narrativa.
E como é triste insistirmos em não aprender com o passado e com fatos que estão escancarados bem diante de nossos olhos.
December 30, 2021
If you're very much into photojournalism or documentary photography or have an iota of interest in it then chances are you might have come across a very powerful photo of an emaciated Sudanese girl who is collapsed and there is a vulture lurking around in the background. This is one of those hard-to-forget photos and the photographer who took this photo, Kevin Carter won the Pulitzer Prize in Feature Photography in 1994. Sadly, about a couple of months later, he ended his life.
I picked up this book as I wanted to know more about him but along the journey of reading this book, I got to know more about three other daring conflict photographers with whom, he was part of a group that was later on known as the Bang Bang Club based in South Africa transitioning from apartheid to a democratic one. The group comprised Kevin Carter, Ken Oosterbroek, Joao Silva & Greg Marinovich. The book was written by both Joao Silva & Greg Marinovich and it is in the voice of the latter.
I found this book to be very dynamic and not meant for light-hearted ones owing to the gruesome disturbing nature of stories and photos. Moreover, I usually think such accounts can be biased as narrators often try to exonerate themselves of any negative emotions but here I find both the surviving photographers of the Bang Bang Club to be brutally honest which I highly appreciate.
Highly recommended to both history & photography lovers!
I picked up this book as I wanted to know more about him but along the journey of reading this book, I got to know more about three other daring conflict photographers with whom, he was part of a group that was later on known as the Bang Bang Club based in South Africa transitioning from apartheid to a democratic one. The group comprised Kevin Carter, Ken Oosterbroek, Joao Silva & Greg Marinovich. The book was written by both Joao Silva & Greg Marinovich and it is in the voice of the latter.
I found this book to be very dynamic and not meant for light-hearted ones owing to the gruesome disturbing nature of stories and photos. Moreover, I usually think such accounts can be biased as narrators often try to exonerate themselves of any negative emotions but here I find both the surviving photographers of the Bang Bang Club to be brutally honest which I highly appreciate.
Highly recommended to both history & photography lovers!
June 28, 2019
A sobering and melancholic take on the culture wars in South Africa, and the group of photographers who documented it. A very gripping read, very shocking but informative for those who don't know the full story. Also, love the little reference to Manic Street Preachers, who wrote a song about Kevin Carter in 1996 😁
March 18, 2025
Insightful on a conflict I didn’t know much about, the personal narratives that run through the book climax really strongly at the end, caught me crying on the plane. Lots of discussions about the ethics of war photography and press in general, esp Pulitzer Prizes, and shows the PTSD that results for these photo journalists, but also reveals the positive value (and at times really negative) of exposing the incredible brutality innocent people are exposed to in conflict.
June 5, 2022
(Reread June 2022: This was even better the second time around. Bringing it up a star.)
Enjoyed this one. It had a good blend of personal details and contextual ones, which is often a difficult balance to get right. I went into this book not knowing too much about the history of South Africa past the basics we went over in school; I came out of it with a decent grasp of the events of the 1990s, and a good bit of context explaining how things got to that point as well. The history goes hand in hand with the stories of several photographers, focusing mainly on Marinovich for coherence but certainly not to the detriment of any others. There's a lot of detail to cover in this book, and it manages to do so with remarkable clarity.
Running throughout the book, though certainly not to distraction or overabundance, is a philosophical and moral question about the role of war photographers and just what their duties are. Where does the commitment to getting the story and recording a part of history end, and where, if at all, should the humanity play a part? Should these people bear witness and do their part by bringing these often horrific scenes into our living rooms, so we might know the price of war? Or should they intervene more, even at the often very real danger to their own lives? A specific answer is never given, but there's more than enough information in this book for the reader to make their own -- and it might be different to what you assume it would be.
Enjoyed this one. It had a good blend of personal details and contextual ones, which is often a difficult balance to get right. I went into this book not knowing too much about the history of South Africa past the basics we went over in school; I came out of it with a decent grasp of the events of the 1990s, and a good bit of context explaining how things got to that point as well. The history goes hand in hand with the stories of several photographers, focusing mainly on Marinovich for coherence but certainly not to the detriment of any others. There's a lot of detail to cover in this book, and it manages to do so with remarkable clarity.
Running throughout the book, though certainly not to distraction or overabundance, is a philosophical and moral question about the role of war photographers and just what their duties are. Where does the commitment to getting the story and recording a part of history end, and where, if at all, should the humanity play a part? Should these people bear witness and do their part by bringing these often horrific scenes into our living rooms, so we might know the price of war? Or should they intervene more, even at the often very real danger to their own lives? A specific answer is never given, but there's more than enough information in this book for the reader to make their own -- and it might be different to what you assume it would be.
April 13, 2018
I have finally gotten around to reading the infamous The Bang-Bang Club: Snapshots from a Hidden War, by Greg Marinovich and João Silva. From the perspective of 2018, it’s now difficult to grasp why the account garnered such controversy. In the post-Iraq, post-Afghanistan, post-Libya, not yet post-Syria world the The Bang-Bang Club has lost much of its infamy. Photographing atrocity and the violent deaths of photojournalists is now, sadly, commonplace. Still, The Bang-Bang Club is an important and well-written account about a critical period in history and a critical moment in the evolution of photojournalism as a profession.
Perhaps unavoidably, much attention is devoted to Kevin Carter’s Pulitzer Prize winning starving child/vulture photograph and Carter’s subsequent suicide. From this account it’s clear that Carter was pretty messed up aside from the psychological damage of shooting that picture. The popular narrative is over-simplified.
In the end, the best summary are words from Marinovich and Silva themselves: “Good pictures. Tragedy and violence certainly make powerful images. It is what we get paid for. But there is a price extracted with every such frame: some of the emotion, the vulnerability, the empathy that makes us human, is lost every time the shutter is released. (p. 153)
Perhaps unavoidably, much attention is devoted to Kevin Carter’s Pulitzer Prize winning starving child/vulture photograph and Carter’s subsequent suicide. From this account it’s clear that Carter was pretty messed up aside from the psychological damage of shooting that picture. The popular narrative is over-simplified.
In the end, the best summary are words from Marinovich and Silva themselves: “Good pictures. Tragedy and violence certainly make powerful images. It is what we get paid for. But there is a price extracted with every such frame: some of the emotion, the vulnerability, the empathy that makes us human, is lost every time the shutter is released. (p. 153)
October 20, 2016
You might end you up with a pink slip if you start reading this Book in a working day. Absolutely recommended on your day off. The Bang Bang Club is a thrilling account of the four photojournalists who worked and have fun together during last days of apartheid. In this book I have learned more about Kelving Carter, a photographer among the four who took the famous picture of a vulture that seemed to stalk a starving Child in South Sudan. The photograph made Kelvin get the Pultizer award. He later committed suicide.
One of the other three forming the club, Greg Marinovich, who narrated the story is a also a recipient of the Pultizer award. The other were Joao and Ken. Ken was shot by peacekeepers as South Africa was approaching its first democratic election. A very informative Book and one that I couldn't put down.
One of the other three forming the club, Greg Marinovich, who narrated the story is a also a recipient of the Pultizer award. The other were Joao and Ken. Ken was shot by peacekeepers as South Africa was approaching its first democratic election. A very informative Book and one that I couldn't put down.
September 8, 2014
This is an easy read about four photographers in South Africa who photographed the township wars between the political parties the ANC and Inkatha. These wars occured in the early 90s as the country geared up for its first democratic elections in 1994. The book is also an interesting treatment of the moral problems associated with artists (like photographers) whose jobs demand that they witness people's pain but do little more than be a witness of it.
October 15, 2008
A phenomenal book. Taken from the perspective of war photographers who are there to capture the last, bloody days of Apartheid in South Africa. This book provides more than sufficient background on the history behind Apartheid, without overwhelming the reader. The toll that this conflict took on these 4 photogs and on everyday folks in South Africa is artfully presented in the bang bang club.
January 23, 2018
I got this at a book swap a few months ago. I had overlooked it initially, but as we got to the end of the swap and most of the books had been picked, I read the back cover and thought "why not?" I wasn't paying for it after all. And I'm so glad I did, because this book is a raw, detailed, retelling of the lives of four photographers (the so called "BangBang Club" because they always seemed to show up where the bangbang, aka violence, was happening) in the waning years of apartheid S. Africa.
Reading articles from war zones, it's easy to imagine just how dangerous the lives of those reporters must be. It's harder to remember that the pictures in the articles were taken by photographers that at times place themselves in harms way for the perfect shot. The BangBang Club will never let you forget the work the photographers do and the emotional toll the work takes on them. It's also an incredible story about the many clashes and killings that occurred in the last four/five years that preceded the end of the apartheid era and the election of the first democratically elected president in S. Africa. The photographers in the BangBang Club are not great men: they are conflicted, they are proud and snobbish, they are adrenaline junkies. But they did great work that helped tell the story of a transitioning S. Africa to the rest of the world and suffered death, pain and loss for their work.
Reading articles from war zones, it's easy to imagine just how dangerous the lives of those reporters must be. It's harder to remember that the pictures in the articles were taken by photographers that at times place themselves in harms way for the perfect shot. The BangBang Club will never let you forget the work the photographers do and the emotional toll the work takes on them. It's also an incredible story about the many clashes and killings that occurred in the last four/five years that preceded the end of the apartheid era and the election of the first democratically elected president in S. Africa. The photographers in the BangBang Club are not great men: they are conflicted, they are proud and snobbish, they are adrenaline junkies. But they did great work that helped tell the story of a transitioning S. Africa to the rest of the world and suffered death, pain and loss for their work.
January 15, 2018
Powerful narrative of South Africa's struggle from war photographers' perspective. I bought this book last year when I visited South Africa for the first time, but I just so wish to have have read this before my visit. Although I was familiar with Kevin Carter's photo of a Sudanese child with a vulture in the background, which was also brought up in one of the lectures I have taken at university, I now feel that the photo shan't be discussed without taking this book into account.
May 9, 2019
Excellent and personal account of conflict zone/war photography that provides a lot of insight into a dark period in South African history (and a few brief visits to other parts of the world) as well as the psychological impact of the work. Not always an easy read as it contains graphic descriptions of violence and of course the photos to go along with it.
June 9, 2025
Finished this in a single day.
June 22, 2020
"Jeśli twoje zdjęcie nie jest wystarczająco dobre, znaczy to tylko, że nie podszedłeś wystarczająco blisko" – Robert Capa
Sięgając po tę książkę wiedziałem, iż będzie to coś niezwykłego. Wiedziałem, jak jeździec spinający konia do skoku przez przeszkodę wie, iż koń ją weźmie z zapasem. Innej opcji po prostu nie było. Szkoda tylko, że odpowiedzialny za wydanie, w przeciwieństwie do autorów, nie do końca stanął na wysokości zadania. Jakkolwiek tomik wygląda bardzo estetycznie, interesująco i do szaty graficznej okładki nie można mieć uwag krytycznych, to jednak wkładki ze zdjęciami wrzucone w treść ni w pięć, ni w dziewięć, nie są najlepszym rozwiązaniem. Moim zdaniem, trzeba było albo wpleść fotogramy tam, gdzie pierwszy raz o nich mowa, albo, co łatwiejsze i mniej eleganckie, ale i tak lepsze od zastosowanego w tym wydaniu rozwiązania, zgrupować je wszystkie w jednej dużej wkładce na początku lub końcu książki. Dużo gorsze są straszliwe i dość częste błędy takiej wagi, iż nawet uniemożliwiają zrozumienie całych zdań, i gdyby nie kontekst, czytelnik nie mógłby się domyślić, co też autorzy mieli na myśli. Inne z kolei rozśmieszają swą infantylnością, jak choćby barki lecące kilkadziesiąt dni w górę rzeki. Czemu uciekło to wszystkim recenzentom, których opinie poznałem przed sięgnięciem po książkę… Na szczęście treść broni się tak świetnie, iż nawet wspomniane fuszerki, choć momentami mocno denerwujące, nie są w stanie nawet na chwilę przyćmić zalet Bractwa Bang Bang.
Lubię dobre książki. Prawda czy fikcja, ważne by dobre. Jest jednak rodzaj opowieści, który uwielbiam ponad wszystko. Subiektywny, niejednokrotnie wypaczony niczym zdjęcie zrobione pod złym kątem, ale prawdziwy ponad wszystko. Świadectwo. Słowo w znaczeniu bliskim biblijnemu, będące prawie na wymarciu, a jakże celne i zupełne. Io so*. Wiem, gdyż widziałem, przeżyłem, a teraz świadczę, iż tak właśnie było. Właśnie takim świadectwem jest niniejsza książka.
Było fotoreporterów wielu, ale tylko czterech było tych, których nazywano Bang Bang Club. Z początku luźna znajomość, przerodziła się w przyjaźń pod ogniem serii z kbk AK** i przy wtórze wrzasków mordowanych ludzi. Teoretycznie do bractwa mógł wejść każdy. Każdy, kto nie bał się podejść do śmierci na tyle blisko, by móc zobaczyć gasnące oczy ofiar w wizjerze swego aparatu, kto był gotów zawsze popędzić tam, gdzie miał nastąpić wybuch przemocy, kto znał Afrykę na tyle, by być dla pozostałych równorzędnym partnerem. Czterech muszkieterów fotografii wojennej; Greg Marinovich, João Silva, Ken Oosterbroek i Kevin Carter. Choć jeździli fotografować również inne wojny, to właśnie Afryka zmieniająca się z białej na czarną była ich konfliktem. Wojną, której się poświęcili od początku do końca jej trwania, a ona wyniosła ich od zera aż na szczyty kariery fotografa dokumentalisty. Dwóch zapłaciło za to życiem, dwóch pozostałych: Greg i João: choć poranieni psychicznie i fizycznie, postanowili napisać o tym, jak było, gdyż to nieprawda, iż obraz jest wart tysiąca słów. To nie obraz, a słowo stało się ciałem i oni też postanowili nadać ciało swym wspomnieniom i swym zdjęciom. Zastosowali ciekawe rozwiązanie – jedynym narratorem jest Greg, choć jest to świadectwo ich obu wzbogacone tym, czego dowiedzieli się również z relacji innych osób. Zawsze jednak podkreślone jest co widzieli sami, a czego dowiedzieli się pośrednio i w jaki konkretnie sposób.
Wbrew tytułowi nie jest to tylko opowieść o przemocy, cierpieniu i śmierci, o uwiecznianiu tego wszystkiego na zdjęciach. To również przejmująca relacja z najgorszej z możliwych wojen; z wojny domowej. Zauważamy, iż ci goniący za drastycznymi ujęciami faceci, posądzani o stworzenie snobistycznego bractwa, są w rzeczywistości wrażliwymi, otwartymi ludźmi i bystrymi obserwatorami. A wnioski z ich obserwacji nie są wesołe.
Widzimy jak Biali, którzy najpierw przenieśli Czarnych do miast, potem ich z nich wygnali i zamknęli w wiejskich gettach pozostawiając w miejskich dzielnicach biedoty tylko niewielu, których potrzebowali jako niewolniczej siły roboczej dla swego rasistowskiego raju. Gdy okazało się, iż nie da się drogą masowych represji ani zakulisowych machinacji powstrzymać wyborów, które Czarni musieli wygrać, napuścili jednych Czarnych na drugich i na nich zwalili całą winę za rozlew krwi, choć byli nie tylko animatorami, ale i czynnymi, choć tajnymi, uczestnikami niezliczonych morderstw. Widzimy, jak w każdej innej wojnie, że i ta wzięła się z pożądania władzy i pieniędzy. I jak w każdej wojnie; bogaci i ustosunkowani nie ponieśli żadnej odpowiedzialności, a szarzy, zwykli ludzie cierpieli i nawet po wygranej cierpią nadal.
Niektóre spostrzeżenia są wręcz szokujące, jak na przykład to, iż techniczne aspekty apartheidu, czyli przemoc prawna i administracyjna, mogą być bardziej okrutne i zniewalające niż przemoc fizyczna.
Dla wielu z nas, Polaków, którzy już jakby zapominamy o wartości, jaką jest wolność sama w sobie, jest ta opowieść przypomnieniem, iż wciąż wielu ludzi każdego dnia oddaje życie za to, czego my nie doceniamy, choć to mamy; za możliwość wrzucenia do urny kartki z naszym głosem. To przypomnienie, jak wielką wartością samą w sobie są wolne wybory, nawet jeśli nie załatwią one wszystkich problemów, jest jednym z wielu przesłań Bractwa.
Afryka i czarnuchy to ciemnota, brud i bieda. Nie ma się co oszukiwać – taki właśnie jest pokutujący i wciąż powszechny u nas stereotyp. A jednak czytając opowieść Marinovicha nie mogłem się powstrzymać od smutnej refleksji. W RPA, po pierwszych wolnych i powszechnych wyborach, powołano Komisję Prawdy i Pojednania, której jedynym celem było ustalenie wszystkich mechanizmów, które doprowadziły do niezliczonych zbrodni schyłku apartheidu, nawet za cenę bezkarności ich sprawców. Najważniejsze było wyjaśnić; by wiedzieć, by poznać prawdę. Ogłoszono amnestię i wielu się zgłosiło, by opowiedzieć o najciemniejszych stronach historii własnego kraju i własnej rasy. Obu ras. Wielu się nie zgłosiło, ale cel został w zasadzie osiągnięty, a wyniki działalności Komisji były porażające i przerażające. Jak się to ma do naszego IPN, którego celem, w odczuciu zbyt wielu, jest zemsta, a nie prawda? Sprzedaliśmy prawo do Prawdy, za prawo do Zemsty, z której i tak nic nie wyszło. Ciągle odżywają u nas nowe fale lustracji, dekomunizacji oraz weryfikacji i nikt nie jest niczego pewien. I kto tu jest prawdziwym czarnuchem? My, czy oni?
Tematyka historii RPA i tragedie, które ją ilustrują poprzez zdjęcia wykonywane aparatami Bractwa Bang Bang, nierozerwalnie przeplatają się z osobistymi historiami i dramatami głównych bohaterów. Postępująca degradacja ich psychiki pod wpływem stresu bojowego z jednej strony oraz wciąż obecne pytania o granice odpowiedzialności reportera i fotografa nie dawały im chwili odpoczynku. Czy ratować, czy fotografować? Nawet wtedy, gdy pomóc nie można, dylematy moralne atakują bezustannie i nie dają chwili wytchnienia. Osobiście mam wrażenie, i to potwierdza niniejsza lektura, iż idealnym fotoreporterem, podobnie jak żołnierzem, wbrew modnym tezom dzisiejszych psychologów, byłby człowiek z pewną dozą psychopatii pozwalającą na chłodną ocenę uczuć i zbagatelizowane problemów moralnych w sytuacjach, w których i tak nie ma się wyboru. A zwłaszcza wtedy, gdy nikt nie ma żadnego wyboru, gdy nikt nie może pomóc.
O szczerości opowieści świadczy wiele drobiazgów, jak choćby scena, gdy jeden z przyjaciół ma szansę przyblokować emisję zdjęcia drugiego, o którym wie, iż sięgnie ono po najwyższe trofea w branży. Myśl taka przelatuje mu przez głowę, a jednak ręka mu nie drży, gdy wybitne zdjęcie idzie w świat. Ręka nie drgnęła, ale myśl się pojawiła, i to go dręczy. Szkoda, że takie postawy są u nas tak rzadkie.
Wbrew temu, co może się wydawać, lektura nie jest dołująca. Nierówne, choć wartkie tempo, zmiany nastroju i napięcia, tematu i osób stojących na pierwszym planie, wszystko to sprawia, iż rzecz czyta się szybko i świetnie, z pewną specyficzną przyjemnością, jaką daje obcowanie z wybitnymi osobowościami, którym woda sodowa nie uderzyła do głowy. Wśród tych wszystkich okropności, które sprawiają, iż powinna być to lektura od lat osiemnastu, zdarzają się nawet perełki humoru, głównie czarnego, a scena, gdy João zostaje wysłany z zadaniem zrobienia fotoreportażu o miejskim stawie i wraca z cyklem zdjęć o kaczce to po prostu mistrzostwo świata. Na czym polega nie zdradzę – przeczytajcie sami.
I to ostanie zdanie niech będzie oceną końcową książki. Każdy musi tą opowieść przeczytać sam i sam po swojemu przeżyć. Dla mnie bomba
źródło:
http://andrew-vysotsky.blogspot.com/2...
Sięgając po tę książkę wiedziałem, iż będzie to coś niezwykłego. Wiedziałem, jak jeździec spinający konia do skoku przez przeszkodę wie, iż koń ją weźmie z zapasem. Innej opcji po prostu nie było. Szkoda tylko, że odpowiedzialny za wydanie, w przeciwieństwie do autorów, nie do końca stanął na wysokości zadania. Jakkolwiek tomik wygląda bardzo estetycznie, interesująco i do szaty graficznej okładki nie można mieć uwag krytycznych, to jednak wkładki ze zdjęciami wrzucone w treść ni w pięć, ni w dziewięć, nie są najlepszym rozwiązaniem. Moim zdaniem, trzeba było albo wpleść fotogramy tam, gdzie pierwszy raz o nich mowa, albo, co łatwiejsze i mniej eleganckie, ale i tak lepsze od zastosowanego w tym wydaniu rozwiązania, zgrupować je wszystkie w jednej dużej wkładce na początku lub końcu książki. Dużo gorsze są straszliwe i dość częste błędy takiej wagi, iż nawet uniemożliwiają zrozumienie całych zdań, i gdyby nie kontekst, czytelnik nie mógłby się domyślić, co też autorzy mieli na myśli. Inne z kolei rozśmieszają swą infantylnością, jak choćby barki lecące kilkadziesiąt dni w górę rzeki. Czemu uciekło to wszystkim recenzentom, których opinie poznałem przed sięgnięciem po książkę… Na szczęście treść broni się tak świetnie, iż nawet wspomniane fuszerki, choć momentami mocno denerwujące, nie są w stanie nawet na chwilę przyćmić zalet Bractwa Bang Bang.
Lubię dobre książki. Prawda czy fikcja, ważne by dobre. Jest jednak rodzaj opowieści, który uwielbiam ponad wszystko. Subiektywny, niejednokrotnie wypaczony niczym zdjęcie zrobione pod złym kątem, ale prawdziwy ponad wszystko. Świadectwo. Słowo w znaczeniu bliskim biblijnemu, będące prawie na wymarciu, a jakże celne i zupełne. Io so*. Wiem, gdyż widziałem, przeżyłem, a teraz świadczę, iż tak właśnie było. Właśnie takim świadectwem jest niniejsza książka.
Było fotoreporterów wielu, ale tylko czterech było tych, których nazywano Bang Bang Club. Z początku luźna znajomość, przerodziła się w przyjaźń pod ogniem serii z kbk AK** i przy wtórze wrzasków mordowanych ludzi. Teoretycznie do bractwa mógł wejść każdy. Każdy, kto nie bał się podejść do śmierci na tyle blisko, by móc zobaczyć gasnące oczy ofiar w wizjerze swego aparatu, kto był gotów zawsze popędzić tam, gdzie miał nastąpić wybuch przemocy, kto znał Afrykę na tyle, by być dla pozostałych równorzędnym partnerem. Czterech muszkieterów fotografii wojennej; Greg Marinovich, João Silva, Ken Oosterbroek i Kevin Carter. Choć jeździli fotografować również inne wojny, to właśnie Afryka zmieniająca się z białej na czarną była ich konfliktem. Wojną, której się poświęcili od początku do końca jej trwania, a ona wyniosła ich od zera aż na szczyty kariery fotografa dokumentalisty. Dwóch zapłaciło za to życiem, dwóch pozostałych: Greg i João: choć poranieni psychicznie i fizycznie, postanowili napisać o tym, jak było, gdyż to nieprawda, iż obraz jest wart tysiąca słów. To nie obraz, a słowo stało się ciałem i oni też postanowili nadać ciało swym wspomnieniom i swym zdjęciom. Zastosowali ciekawe rozwiązanie – jedynym narratorem jest Greg, choć jest to świadectwo ich obu wzbogacone tym, czego dowiedzieli się również z relacji innych osób. Zawsze jednak podkreślone jest co widzieli sami, a czego dowiedzieli się pośrednio i w jaki konkretnie sposób.
Wbrew tytułowi nie jest to tylko opowieść o przemocy, cierpieniu i śmierci, o uwiecznianiu tego wszystkiego na zdjęciach. To również przejmująca relacja z najgorszej z możliwych wojen; z wojny domowej. Zauważamy, iż ci goniący za drastycznymi ujęciami faceci, posądzani o stworzenie snobistycznego bractwa, są w rzeczywistości wrażliwymi, otwartymi ludźmi i bystrymi obserwatorami. A wnioski z ich obserwacji nie są wesołe.
Widzimy jak Biali, którzy najpierw przenieśli Czarnych do miast, potem ich z nich wygnali i zamknęli w wiejskich gettach pozostawiając w miejskich dzielnicach biedoty tylko niewielu, których potrzebowali jako niewolniczej siły roboczej dla swego rasistowskiego raju. Gdy okazało się, iż nie da się drogą masowych represji ani zakulisowych machinacji powstrzymać wyborów, które Czarni musieli wygrać, napuścili jednych Czarnych na drugich i na nich zwalili całą winę za rozlew krwi, choć byli nie tylko animatorami, ale i czynnymi, choć tajnymi, uczestnikami niezliczonych morderstw. Widzimy, jak w każdej innej wojnie, że i ta wzięła się z pożądania władzy i pieniędzy. I jak w każdej wojnie; bogaci i ustosunkowani nie ponieśli żadnej odpowiedzialności, a szarzy, zwykli ludzie cierpieli i nawet po wygranej cierpią nadal.
Niektóre spostrzeżenia są wręcz szokujące, jak na przykład to, iż techniczne aspekty apartheidu, czyli przemoc prawna i administracyjna, mogą być bardziej okrutne i zniewalające niż przemoc fizyczna.
Dla wielu z nas, Polaków, którzy już jakby zapominamy o wartości, jaką jest wolność sama w sobie, jest ta opowieść przypomnieniem, iż wciąż wielu ludzi każdego dnia oddaje życie za to, czego my nie doceniamy, choć to mamy; za możliwość wrzucenia do urny kartki z naszym głosem. To przypomnienie, jak wielką wartością samą w sobie są wolne wybory, nawet jeśli nie załatwią one wszystkich problemów, jest jednym z wielu przesłań Bractwa.
Afryka i czarnuchy to ciemnota, brud i bieda. Nie ma się co oszukiwać – taki właśnie jest pokutujący i wciąż powszechny u nas stereotyp. A jednak czytając opowieść Marinovicha nie mogłem się powstrzymać od smutnej refleksji. W RPA, po pierwszych wolnych i powszechnych wyborach, powołano Komisję Prawdy i Pojednania, której jedynym celem było ustalenie wszystkich mechanizmów, które doprowadziły do niezliczonych zbrodni schyłku apartheidu, nawet za cenę bezkarności ich sprawców. Najważniejsze było wyjaśnić; by wiedzieć, by poznać prawdę. Ogłoszono amnestię i wielu się zgłosiło, by opowiedzieć o najciemniejszych stronach historii własnego kraju i własnej rasy. Obu ras. Wielu się nie zgłosiło, ale cel został w zasadzie osiągnięty, a wyniki działalności Komisji były porażające i przerażające. Jak się to ma do naszego IPN, którego celem, w odczuciu zbyt wielu, jest zemsta, a nie prawda? Sprzedaliśmy prawo do Prawdy, za prawo do Zemsty, z której i tak nic nie wyszło. Ciągle odżywają u nas nowe fale lustracji, dekomunizacji oraz weryfikacji i nikt nie jest niczego pewien. I kto tu jest prawdziwym czarnuchem? My, czy oni?
Tematyka historii RPA i tragedie, które ją ilustrują poprzez zdjęcia wykonywane aparatami Bractwa Bang Bang, nierozerwalnie przeplatają się z osobistymi historiami i dramatami głównych bohaterów. Postępująca degradacja ich psychiki pod wpływem stresu bojowego z jednej strony oraz wciąż obecne pytania o granice odpowiedzialności reportera i fotografa nie dawały im chwili odpoczynku. Czy ratować, czy fotografować? Nawet wtedy, gdy pomóc nie można, dylematy moralne atakują bezustannie i nie dają chwili wytchnienia. Osobiście mam wrażenie, i to potwierdza niniejsza lektura, iż idealnym fotoreporterem, podobnie jak żołnierzem, wbrew modnym tezom dzisiejszych psychologów, byłby człowiek z pewną dozą psychopatii pozwalającą na chłodną ocenę uczuć i zbagatelizowane problemów moralnych w sytuacjach, w których i tak nie ma się wyboru. A zwłaszcza wtedy, gdy nikt nie ma żadnego wyboru, gdy nikt nie może pomóc.
O szczerości opowieści świadczy wiele drobiazgów, jak choćby scena, gdy jeden z przyjaciół ma szansę przyblokować emisję zdjęcia drugiego, o którym wie, iż sięgnie ono po najwyższe trofea w branży. Myśl taka przelatuje mu przez głowę, a jednak ręka mu nie drży, gdy wybitne zdjęcie idzie w świat. Ręka nie drgnęła, ale myśl się pojawiła, i to go dręczy. Szkoda, że takie postawy są u nas tak rzadkie.
Wbrew temu, co może się wydawać, lektura nie jest dołująca. Nierówne, choć wartkie tempo, zmiany nastroju i napięcia, tematu i osób stojących na pierwszym planie, wszystko to sprawia, iż rzecz czyta się szybko i świetnie, z pewną specyficzną przyjemnością, jaką daje obcowanie z wybitnymi osobowościami, którym woda sodowa nie uderzyła do głowy. Wśród tych wszystkich okropności, które sprawiają, iż powinna być to lektura od lat osiemnastu, zdarzają się nawet perełki humoru, głównie czarnego, a scena, gdy João zostaje wysłany z zadaniem zrobienia fotoreportażu o miejskim stawie i wraca z cyklem zdjęć o kaczce to po prostu mistrzostwo świata. Na czym polega nie zdradzę – przeczytajcie sami.
I to ostanie zdanie niech będzie oceną końcową książki. Każdy musi tą opowieść przeczytać sam i sam po swojemu przeżyć. Dla mnie bomba
źródło:
http://andrew-vysotsky.blogspot.com/2...
April 30, 2020
Heart wrenching and pulse driving. If you are interested in reading a historio-biographical account of South Africa’s hidden civil war, this is a great starting point.
November 8, 2013
This one is pretty rough, but very worth the time.
Told by those who lived it, it's the story of the group of photographers that became internationally recognized for their photos of war torn Africa, primarily the unrest leading to the eventual end of apartheid in South Africa. We've all seen their photos of starving children, of mobs burning men alive. They're photos that are hard to look at and these guys stood RIGHT THERE and took them. The emotional baggage on all of them is tremendous and not to be overcome by all. Drug use, suicide, and job hazards thin their ranks and leave the two co-authors in the wake to pull the pieces together and move on.
It's certainly troubling, the idea of photographing death without effort toward intervention. Eventually I realized that these guys are soldiers of war who carry cameras instead of guns. They're doing a job and serving a purpose based on violent conflict. It can be argued that the widespread publication of their photos actually helped turn the tide against apartheid, so their efforts can't be dismissed as those of exploitative adrenaline junkies. They served their country and some of them paid the ultimate price. It's hard to imagine and at times hard to read, but it's a great book.
Told by those who lived it, it's the story of the group of photographers that became internationally recognized for their photos of war torn Africa, primarily the unrest leading to the eventual end of apartheid in South Africa. We've all seen their photos of starving children, of mobs burning men alive. They're photos that are hard to look at and these guys stood RIGHT THERE and took them. The emotional baggage on all of them is tremendous and not to be overcome by all. Drug use, suicide, and job hazards thin their ranks and leave the two co-authors in the wake to pull the pieces together and move on.
It's certainly troubling, the idea of photographing death without effort toward intervention. Eventually I realized that these guys are soldiers of war who carry cameras instead of guns. They're doing a job and serving a purpose based on violent conflict. It can be argued that the widespread publication of their photos actually helped turn the tide against apartheid, so their efforts can't be dismissed as those of exploitative adrenaline junkies. They served their country and some of them paid the ultimate price. It's hard to imagine and at times hard to read, but it's a great book.
March 4, 2016
This is a memoir by conflict photographers Greg Marinovich & Joao Silva with a foreward by Archbishop Desmond Tutu. It is an appaling remembering of the time 4 conflict photographers spent in South Africa during the time that apartheid was coming to a violent end, as well as time spent in Sudan. Two of the 4 received Pulitzers for their photos. The book gives you the feel of what it is like to leave your humanity behind & go in & get the shot. It isn't your job to help. It is your job to record. One of the shots many may remember from Sudan of the little child folded into a squat with a vulture patiently waiting for starvation & exposure to take its toll. I remember at the time, when I saw that photo, thinking...did he run the vulture off? Did he take the little kid to a feeding station? What happened to the little kid? The toll was heavy of these four personally. You can't leave your humanity behind & do well as you try to go forward with your own life.
November 8, 2021
The story of the "Bang Bang Club", a group of four South African photographers who cut their teeth photographing the violence of the fall of apartheid. They later engage in war journalism across Africa and Europe. The story tells of their rise, and the stories behind their most famous photographs. It culminates with the deaths of two of their four members, one due to an errant bullet, and the other due to depression and addiction. The story is certainly interesting, though the writing style seemed quite unforgiving of the people who suffered, including people executed in front of their cameras, and even their own colleague who fell into depression and suicide, while glorifying as a hero the member who died while taking photographs. An interesting, if unforgiving, story.
September 23, 2020
This is an autobiography by four photographers who covered the events in South Africa from 1990 to 1994. The four of them were never part of the so-called "club" as the newspapers of the time called. It was just that only four of them understood each other's emotions, apathy, and helplessness while taking pictures of the most horrific events that happened during the period and hence became friends, bonded by common passion. Remember the "vulture and the little girl" photo that won a Pulitzer Prize? That was taken by the one of them. The book is a memoir of their own extra-ordinary life that deserves to be recorded, read, and experienced.
December 19, 2012
A brutal, visceral and disturbing ride through the last days of apartheid South Africa. I loved it. Even though Marinovich is not an experienced writer, as can be seen through some less than fortunate passages, the style of the book is nonetheless incredibly engaging. Apart from the unfortunate in medias res beginning, which gives the chaotic impression that one needs to be intimately familiar with the conflict and its different groupings, this book gives anyone a tough to put down introduction to a bloody part of modern history.
November 21, 2013
I'm not going to say that this is the definitive insight into the transition between apartheid South Africa and universal suffrage in South Africa because I have done nothing that qualifies me to say that. But this book is written by a man who photographed, felt and lived those years. And with that qualification makes it very very worth reading.
June 10, 2014
An honest account of addiction to adrenalin, drugs, egos and the truth.
August 16, 2016
Review to follow
Want to read
June 11, 2023** I haven’t read this yet. Just wanted to post here the reason / context behind my adding this to my to-read shelf. Today I’ve been thinking about the sad ironies and moral dilemmas regarding photographer Kevin Carter’s fate. Especially after finding this news article:
https://web-archive-org.translate.goo...
(The article is in another language so below is the translation)
Why does Capa's militiaman's shirt look so immaculate at the moment of being fatally shot? Were the boy and the girl portrayed by Doisneau in front of the Hotel de Ville in Paris ever in love? What is the name of that man who stopped the advance of an armored column in Tiananmen?
All the great photographic icons carry their share of mythology. But there are others in which mythology has turned towards the black legend. Why didn't Kevin Carter help the girl escape from the vulture?
It is not easy to prevail over legends, especially when they have the black color of death. South African photographer Kevin Carter visited the Sudanese village of Ayod by plane in 1993 to denounce the famine and war the country was suffering.
Before leaving, he saw a malnourished baby lying on the sand just in the same plane as a vulture, two powerful symbols that represented the best metaphor for what was happening in that place at that moment, one of the most important humanitarian catastrophes of the century.
Carter left Ayod knowing that he had gotten a great picture and he did. 'The New York Times' published it days later with an effect unknown to him. Public opinion turned against him for not having done anything to save the creature from the clutches of that menacing vulture, even accusing him of being the true scavenger in the photo. A year later, in 1994, he won the Pulitzer Prize and committed suicide.
No one saw that baby die and it is the image itself that refutes this tragic fate, at least in part, since the creature in the photo is wearing a plastic bracelet from the UN food station on its right hand, installed in that place. If you look at the high-resolution photo, you can read the code "T3" written in a blue marker.
Carter was criticized for not helping the baby and the world left him for dead even though Carter himself did not see him die, he just shot the photo and left minutes later. The reality is that he was already registered at the food center, which was attended by French nurses from the NGO Médicos del Mundo.
Florence Mourin coordinated the work in that improvised dispensary: "Two letters were used: "T", for severe malnutrition and "S", for those who only needed supplementary food. The number indicates the order of arrival at the feed center". That is, that Kong was severely malnourished, he was the third to reach the center, he recovered, he survived the famine, the vulture and the worst omens of Western readers.
With that premise, and the possibility that the creature was still alive despite the famine and war, Crónica traveled to Ayod 18 years later to reconstruct the story of that photograph.
After several meetings with dozens of inhabitants of the village, a woman who distributed food in that place 18 years ago named Mary Nyaluak gave the first clue to the whereabouts of the mysterious creature. "It's a boy and not a girl. His name is Kong Nyong, and he lives outside the village."
Two days later, that clue would lead to the child's family, whose father identified the child and confirmed that he recovered from that famine but that he died four years ago of "fever."
https://web-archive-org.translate.goo...
(The article is in another language so below is the translation)
Why does Capa's militiaman's shirt look so immaculate at the moment of being fatally shot? Were the boy and the girl portrayed by Doisneau in front of the Hotel de Ville in Paris ever in love? What is the name of that man who stopped the advance of an armored column in Tiananmen?
All the great photographic icons carry their share of mythology. But there are others in which mythology has turned towards the black legend. Why didn't Kevin Carter help the girl escape from the vulture?
It is not easy to prevail over legends, especially when they have the black color of death. South African photographer Kevin Carter visited the Sudanese village of Ayod by plane in 1993 to denounce the famine and war the country was suffering.
Before leaving, he saw a malnourished baby lying on the sand just in the same plane as a vulture, two powerful symbols that represented the best metaphor for what was happening in that place at that moment, one of the most important humanitarian catastrophes of the century.
Carter left Ayod knowing that he had gotten a great picture and he did. 'The New York Times' published it days later with an effect unknown to him. Public opinion turned against him for not having done anything to save the creature from the clutches of that menacing vulture, even accusing him of being the true scavenger in the photo. A year later, in 1994, he won the Pulitzer Prize and committed suicide.
No one saw that baby die and it is the image itself that refutes this tragic fate, at least in part, since the creature in the photo is wearing a plastic bracelet from the UN food station on its right hand, installed in that place. If you look at the high-resolution photo, you can read the code "T3" written in a blue marker.
Carter was criticized for not helping the baby and the world left him for dead even though Carter himself did not see him die, he just shot the photo and left minutes later. The reality is that he was already registered at the food center, which was attended by French nurses from the NGO Médicos del Mundo.
Florence Mourin coordinated the work in that improvised dispensary: "Two letters were used: "T", for severe malnutrition and "S", for those who only needed supplementary food. The number indicates the order of arrival at the feed center". That is, that Kong was severely malnourished, he was the third to reach the center, he recovered, he survived the famine, the vulture and the worst omens of Western readers.
With that premise, and the possibility that the creature was still alive despite the famine and war, Crónica traveled to Ayod 18 years later to reconstruct the story of that photograph.
After several meetings with dozens of inhabitants of the village, a woman who distributed food in that place 18 years ago named Mary Nyaluak gave the first clue to the whereabouts of the mysterious creature. "It's a boy and not a girl. His name is Kong Nyong, and he lives outside the village."
Two days later, that clue would lead to the child's family, whose father identified the child and confirmed that he recovered from that famine but that he died four years ago of "fever."
May 24, 2023
This is a gripping and harrowing account of a group of photojournalists who covered the brutal conflict in South Africa during the turbulent years leading up to the end of apartheid. This book provides a unique and intimate perspective on the realities of war and the toll it takes on both the individuals involved and the society as a whole.
Marinovich, who was one of the members of the "Bang-Bang Club," offers a deeply personal and honest narrative that transports readers into the heart of the violence and chaos. Through his vivid descriptions and powerful storytelling, he effectively conveys the fear, adrenaline, and moral dilemmas faced by the photographers who risked their lives to capture the truth.
What sets this book apart is its exploration of the psychological and emotional impact of chronic exposure to violence. Marinovich delves into the moral ambiguities faced by these photojournalists, who constantly found themselves torn between their duty to bear witness and their own safety. The author's introspective reflections on the effects of trauma on the human psyche are both poignant and thought-provoking.
Marinovich provides a comprehensive background on the political climate in South Africa at the time, offering readers a deeper understanding of the social injustices and tensions that fueled the conflict. This contextualization adds depth and nuance to the narrative, allowing readers to grasp the complexities of apartheid and its violent aftermath.
While the subject matter of this book is undeniably heavy, Marinovich's writing style manages to maintain a compelling and accessible tone throughout. He expertly balances the personal stories of the photographers with the larger historical events, making this book both informative and engaging.
Marinovich, who was one of the members of the "Bang-Bang Club," offers a deeply personal and honest narrative that transports readers into the heart of the violence and chaos. Through his vivid descriptions and powerful storytelling, he effectively conveys the fear, adrenaline, and moral dilemmas faced by the photographers who risked their lives to capture the truth.
What sets this book apart is its exploration of the psychological and emotional impact of chronic exposure to violence. Marinovich delves into the moral ambiguities faced by these photojournalists, who constantly found themselves torn between their duty to bear witness and their own safety. The author's introspective reflections on the effects of trauma on the human psyche are both poignant and thought-provoking.
Marinovich provides a comprehensive background on the political climate in South Africa at the time, offering readers a deeper understanding of the social injustices and tensions that fueled the conflict. This contextualization adds depth and nuance to the narrative, allowing readers to grasp the complexities of apartheid and its violent aftermath.
While the subject matter of this book is undeniably heavy, Marinovich's writing style manages to maintain a compelling and accessible tone throughout. He expertly balances the personal stories of the photographers with the larger historical events, making this book both informative and engaging.
February 14, 2018
This is a tough book, as you would expect, given the subject. The sum total as a primary source, provides a compelling insight into the psychological effect of warfare, that is both personal and general.
The Bang Bang Club brings behind-the-scenes turmoil to centre stage. Here we confront many uncomfortable truths - the overpowering adrenaline rush being one of them - which enables photographers to place themselves in the most dangerous of situations, frequently alongside mobs, whose own adrenalin rush enables them to commit acts of the most barbarous and frenzied violence.
A must read, The Bang Bang Club remains as much about now as about then. A quick glance at "Reporters without borders" is a sobering reminder of the constant dangers photographers and journalists face in keeping the "public" informed. February 2018 - so far, 3 journalists have been killed, 308 are imprisoned along with 15 media assistants.
The Bang Bang Club brings behind-the-scenes turmoil to centre stage. Here we confront many uncomfortable truths - the overpowering adrenaline rush being one of them - which enables photographers to place themselves in the most dangerous of situations, frequently alongside mobs, whose own adrenalin rush enables them to commit acts of the most barbarous and frenzied violence.
A must read, The Bang Bang Club remains as much about now as about then. A quick glance at "Reporters without borders" is a sobering reminder of the constant dangers photographers and journalists face in keeping the "public" informed. February 2018 - so far, 3 journalists have been killed, 308 are imprisoned along with 15 media assistants.
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