I picked up Robert Capa's book after finishing Alex Kershaw's brilliant biography about the famous photographer, "Blood and Champagne." Mesmerized by Kershaw's documentation of such a fascinating life, I couldn't wait to get my hands on "Slightly Out of Focus," an account of the photographer by none other than the photographer himself.
Unfortunately, while Kershaw's biography left me reeling and entrenched in a raw honesty about Robert Capa (the man, the photographer, the Hungarian), Capa's book left me disappointed. Part of this may have to do with my own expectation as a reader.
Going into this book, I had hoped that Capa would cut deeper, open himself up, ruminate on his profession with a certain kind of candor and honesty. Instead, Capa is all tongue and cheek, serious only for brief flickers at a time, returning to his playboy state of booze, girls, and war with a Raymond Chandler-esque bravado. Perhaps, though, this is the point? Capa's voice gives him away, exposes everything, reveals him as a man with a brave, flirtatious front who, when it comes right down to it, avoids anything that might hurt or cut too deeply or bring him into a kind of self honesty.
With that said, there are fabulous moments of the book, three specifically, each offering a serious rumination:
1) The first is Capa's confrontation with an American WWII pilot, who, after bringing back four of his fallen brothers, turns to Capa and says "Are these pictures you were waiting for, photographer?" and for the first time, Capa must consider the ethical complexities of his profession: "On the train to London, with those successfully exposed rolls in my bag, I hated myself and my profession. This sort of photography was only for undertakers, and I didn't like being one. If I was to share the funeral, I swore, I would have to share the procession." From that point forward, Capa went alongside the troops, to the Omaha beach and back again.
2) The second is Capa and Ernest Hemingway's "falling out." While moving together with American troops, a German gunner started shelling out fire, and Hemingway was trapped in an unfortunate position. The American troops took cover, and Capa was standing nearby, hoping to be of some help to Hemingway. However, Hemingway thought different of the matter, believing Capa was simply "standing by" in the event that Hemingway were shot dead and Capa could photographer the death of the famous writer. What's interesting, though, is that Capa seemed to be motivated by both a desire to help and to photograph this amazing moment, should it have happened.
3) The third and final is Capa's relationship with a girl he calls "Pinky." A London girl, Pinky waits for Capa as he dashes off to the front, traveling the world. Eventually, however, Pinky grows tired of waiting, and marries another fellow. Capa learns of this the day the war in Europe is pronounced over, and the book ends with the final line "There is absolutely no reason to get up in the mornings any more." Of course, the line refers not so much as to Pinky, as it does to the end of a long adventure. What, beyond war, is there for Capa to do?
Overall, the book is interesting only in so much as it offers "the sound" of Capa himself, which is invaluable for historians and historical writers alike.