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Vol. 6, No. 6, 2007
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Fifty years ago Jerzy Kosinski stepped off a plane at Idlewild Airport. The 24-year-old from Poland arrived in New York with little money and few contacts – two of his early jobs were parking lot attendant and movie theatre projectionist – but he swiftly rose to a pinnacle. One from which he would precipitously fall.

Fall indeed. Many today would ask: Who is Jerzy Kosinski?

Jerzy KosinskiForemost, he was a writer.

His first novel, The Painted Bird, published in 1965 (eight years after Kosinski's arrival), was heralded as a classic by the likes of Elie Wiesel and Arthur Miller. Widely translated, it received France's Prix du Meilleur Livre Etranger.

Steps, his second novel, won the National Book Award in 1969.

Being There (1971) was made into a film starring Peter Sellers. Kosinski's screenplay was cited as best of the year by The Writers' Guild of America and The British Academy.

His next five novels were best sellers.

He served two terms as president of P.E.N., the international organization of writers and editors.

There was an award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters and teaching stints at Princeton and Yale, but Kosinski's renown extended beyond the written word.

He was a 12-time guest on Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show."

He played a small but significant role in the movie Reds, directed by his friend Warren Beatty (he got billing over Jack Nicholson).

He would have been at the Beverly Hills home of another Hollywood friend, Roman Polanski, on the night that Polanski's wife Sharon Tate and four others were murdered by members of Charles Manson's "Helter Skelter" family; but, on his flight from Paris to Los Angeles, his luggage was unloaded by mistake in New York, which delayed him by a day.

He posed half naked for the cover of The New York Times Magazine.

Away from the public spotlight, at dinner and cocktail parties held in New York penthouses, Kosinski was on a first name basis with the famous – Henry Kissinger, fashion designer Oscar de la Renta, theatre critic John Simon, Senator Jacob Javits – and also with those anonymous bankers and industrialists whose decisions drive the world's economy. He was often the center of attention, for he had the gift of beguiling.

His appearance was striking. His face was framed by a dense mass of tightly-curled black hair. His eyes, under wizard-like brows, were large, black and bright. His nose had the hook of a predatory bird's beak. His mouth, unusually long and thin, seems, in photographs, to be clamped shut like an oyster shell.

But that mouth opened, and out came exotic stories told in an exotic accent. Accounts of his adventures in the cryptic world of communist Poland and the Soviet Union, chilling tales of his childhood in Nazi-dominated Eastern Europe, stories about his visits to sex clubs that catered to every desire.

Kosinski was a kind of emissary, one dressed in suit and tie, bringing dispatches from life's underbelly. Yet he did it with a raconteur's wit, and he always retained a sense of mystery. Did he participate in the sexual circus he described or was he just an observer? In all his stories, what was truth, what was made up?

Despite his free-wheeling lifestyle, Jerzy Kosinski had a wife. She did not accompany him on his night time prowls (other women did), but it was entirely due to her that he was in a room entertaining the affluent and powerful.

Before the marriage he had been an academic studying social psychology and had written two books of anti-communist essays under the pseudonym of Joseph Novak. Mary Hayward Weir, the widow of an industrialist, admired his writing, which led to their first meeting. She employed the young man to catalogue the books in her library.

When they married Jerzy was 29, Mary 47.

Kosinski was suddenly part of a world that included a Park Avenue duplex, homes and vacation retreats in Southampton, London, Paris, Florence. There were servants, a private jet, a boat with a crew of seventeen. And, of course, those parties.

The marriage ended after four years (two years later Mary died of brain cancer). Though his life of opulence was over, he had published The Painted Bird, and thereafter his writing provided him with a substantial income. He traveled extensively, skied, played polo.

Shortly after Mary Weir's death, Kosinski began a relationship with Katherina (Kiki) von Fraunhofer, a descendent of Bavarian aristocracy. After 20 years together, they married; four years later, in 1991, Jerzy Kosinski committed suicide. He was 57.


Eight years before he got into a bathtub and put a plastic bag over his head, the writing career of Jerzy Kosinski had been fatally damaged. The first blow came in the form of a Village Voice articled entitled "Jerzy Kosinski's Tainted Words."Jerzy Kosinski

Three major accusations were made.

One was that Kosinski didn't deserve credit as the author of his books. Someone came forward claiming that he had written The Painted Bird; others said that Kosinski wrote it in Polish and that the translator had not been acknowledged. As for the seven episodic novels that followed, it was alleged that Kosinski provided the ideas but editors did the actual writing; the books were, in effect, ghostwritten.

Another accusation was plagiarism -- that Kosinski filched the concept and structure of Being There from a 1932 Polish novel entitled The Career of Nikodem Dyzma by Tadeusz Dolega Mostowicz.

The third accusation was the most damning. Kosinski had always insisted – at parties, in interviews, in writing – that he was the boy in The Painted Bird (which, he said, was not strictly a novel but was "auto-fiction"). This nameless boy, who has black hair and black eyes and is thus suspected of being a Jew or a Gypsy, is six when World War II breaks out. He wanders from village to village. In the first printing the locale is central Poland, but in every subsequent edition it is Eastern Europe. For four years he is witness to and victim of horrific cruelty and barbarism – committed not by the Nazis but by peasant villagers, who are superstitious, ignorant and brutal. After being thrown into a pit of excrement, in which he nearly suffocates, the boy loses the power of speech. At the end of the novel he regains it.

Poles who read the book were highly indignant about how they were depicted (for 23 years the novel was banned in Poland). Then accusations from Polish researchers began to emerge. Kosinski's story was a lie. He had not suffered atrocities at the hands of Polish peasants. Instead, he and his family had lived through the years of Nazi occupation not only in safety, but in comfort. And their protectors? – Poles.

Documents, personal accounts and even photographs were produced. In the Polish version, the Jewish Lewinkopf family, to escape the Nazis, moved from Lodz (where the Lodz ghetto and the nearby Chelmno Extermination Camp would claim hundreds of thousands of Jewish lives) and changed their name to Kosinski, a common Polish one. They lived in the homes of Poles and their true identity was concealed by Poles. They carried on their lives as Catholics. Jerzy was baptized and received Holy Communion; he served as an altar boy. The Lewinkopf/Kosinski family was in fearful hiding, but not in a potato cellar or barn. They even employed a maid.

The Poles branded Jerzy Kosinski a Holocaust profiteer because the novel, which drew critical comparison with The Diary of Anne Frank, was immediately granted the status of a chronicle of the Holocaust.

But Anne Frank was in that attic. If you take away the authenticity of The Painted Bird, what is left?


Jerzy KosinskiTruth can be elusive. The information about Kosinski's rise and his years of success should be fairly accurate, since it is a matter of public record or comes, undisputed, from multiple sources. But the accusations that precipitated his fall present problems. I encountered so many contradictory and questionable "facts" that everything I read became suspect. I began to believe nothing.

Kosinski – the man who, according to both friends and foes, liked to operate from behind smoke and mirrors – was no help in clearing up matters. One example: When he writes about his relationship with Mary Weir, what emerges is a picture of a devoted couple separated only by her tragic death. Why does he omit the fact that they divorced? Could it be that he did not want his marriage to a wealthy socialite 18 years his senior to be perceived as a career move? Reading Kosinski on his personal life, I constantly sensed I was being steered in a direction that suited his purposes.

I consulted two highly-respected texts. Contemporary Authors, published by Gale Research, relates the story of how Kosinski, as a boy, lived through the experiences depicted in The Painted Bird, while American Writers (edited by Jay Parini) bluntly states that Kosinski lied about his wartime experiences; he was safe with his parents. Two teams of "experts," working with the same information, came to opposing conclusions.

At this point I decided to take a different approach in this essay – a personal one. Though my emotions will come into play, they will be in response to Kosinski's work, not to the man. I'll rely on simple logic, and for my texts I'll use the novels he wrote (or didn’t write).

The easiest accusation to tackle is the one about plagiarism. I believe that a Polish novel entitled The Career of Nikodem Dyzma exists, but I find no indication that it was translated into English. So I cannot compare it to Being There. Still, how could a novel written in Poland in 1932 correspond closely to the adventures of Chauncey Gardiner (a.k.a. Chance the Gardener) in New York in the 1960s? Television had not been invented in 1932; Chance is a product of television. He moves into the lofty realms of corporate wealth. Being There remains strikingly relevant to the media-driven America of 2007. Kosinski may have borrowed the premise of the idiot whose simpleminded utterances are interpreted as profundities, but he had to considerably shape this premise to fit his purposes.

Did Kosinski write his novels? I came across no solid, unassailable proof that he didn't: only people making those claims and others refuting them (some being editors stating that they did nothing more that normal editorial work on his books). We do have Kosinski's admission that he was not only very receptive to editorial advice, but that he actively solicited help. He would send copies of a novel-in-progress to friends, asking them to mark places that "didn't sound right" (he lacked confidence in his command of the English idiom). He was a compulsive reviser. In his 1972 Paris Review interview there is a facsimile of a galley proof page of Passion Play with Kosinski's handwritten changes. A note states that, between the first and third set of galley proofs, he shortened the novel by one third, cutting over 100 pages. This can be seen as a sign of insecurity. But insecurity is no fault – not if it motivates the writer to work hard to get it right.

I find Kosinski's novels to be stylistically similar. The prose is detached, flat, terse, and it has an emotional remoteness that is unique. The voice of the novels comes across as that of one person.

Next we move to the thorniest accusation. Even though documents, personal testimonials and even photographs have been produced by Polish researchers which "prove" that Jerzy Kosinski spent his boyhood in safety, I had my doubts. Documents can be forged, personal accounts can be fabricated, old photographs of a black-haired boy do not constitute evidence. Could resentment about how Kosinski depicted the Polish peasant have led to a campaign to discredit his book?

On the other hand, those who see The Painted Bird as a realistic portrayal (the words "brutal truth" are often used in reviews) may be predisposed to accept as true that which isn't. We expect monsters when we think about Europe in the throes of World War II, and Kosinski provides them in abundance. That these monsters are not jack-booted Nazis would seem to undermine the Holocaust connection. The explanation given by his supporters is that Kosinski's broad theme was the victimization of the powerless; if the evildoers in this firsthand account were peasants in Poland, so be it. Kosinski's comments on the novel's title corroborate these arguments. He states that he witnessed, as a child, a favorite entertainment of villagers. They would trap a bird, paint its feathers vivid colours, and then release it. When the painted bird returned to its flock the other birds attacked and killed it.

The first time I read The Painted Bird, I was unaware of these complexities. I believed that the book was a fictionalized account of events which the author had actually experienced. But as I moved from one gruesome scene to another I lost that belief. A gut feeling grew, and a strong one. These things never happened.

In chapter four a miller gouges a plowboy's eyes out with a spoon. In chapter five a mob of women attack a character named Stupid Ludmila; one of them pushes a bottle filled with excrement up her vagina and kicks it so that it breaks; then they beat her to death. In chapter six a carpenter is devoured by rats.

Any one of these horrors might be accepted as the truth, but the stringing together of one after another (and many more follow) is highly suspect. I came to believe that I was reading the fantasies of a sick mind.

All this is done artfully. Kosinski establishes a pervasive sense of dread; he builds up to each event with deliberation; he describes it with imagery that penetrates deep into the reader's consciousness. I am not questioning the power of the writing. I am questioning its morality. Detractors have called the novel pornographic, contending that it excites a form of lust. Some act out that lust, in basements with bloodstained concrete floors. Marauding armies seem to be infected with it. Leaders of countries have conducted reigns of terror based on it. It’s a deplorable but undeniable part of the history of man. And, as a confirmation of its existence in the here and now, there are writers and filmmakers who make millions by providing grisly fare to a public that wants to vicariously enjoy it. Kosinski recognized that his novel had this appeal. In an interview conducted seven years after the novel was published, he talks of readers who "pursue the unusual, masochists probably, who 'want' sensations. They will all read The Painted Bird, I hope."

But, as befits the man, Kosinski's literary ambitions were extravagant. If The Painted Bird was to be considered a serious work of art, he knew that its sensationalistic aspects must be overshadowed. What redeeming element could raise it above its parade of repellent scenes? How could he get a reputable publisher to consider the novel? The solution was something an expert dissembler like Kosinski was well-equipped to carry off. What greater significance, what greater validation could he bestow upon the novel than to claim it to be the truth?

At parties held in Mary Weir's penthouse, Kosinski told stories of his childhood during the war. Since these parties were well-represented by the artistic set, people in publishing were present. It is easy to imagine Kosinski taking a senior editor aside -- suddenly serious, his black eyes intense – and confiding that the stories weren't fabrications, that they had actually happened to him. And more, much worse than anything he had spoken of. But he had written about these things. It was something he was compelled to do, to tell it all.

Executives at Houghton Mifflin promoted the book as a true account of what the author endured, and it was widely accepted as such by critics, most of whom gave it extravagantly glowing reviews. With his first novel, Kosinski had reached a pinnacle.

Stripped of its authenticity, The Painted Bird is still a Holocaust novel. It is not about the acts of peasants but about the damaged psyche of Jerzy Kosinski. I believe that as a boy he hid in comfort, but he was still hiding from monsters. Hiding from the trains that took Jews to extermination camps, where they were herded into ovens. Of these things he surely knew, and they haunted his thoughts.

The cover of my Bantam edition of The Painted Bird shows a detail from the Hell panel of Hieronymus Bosch's "The Last Judgment." The painting is crowded with grotesque tortures that fascinate and repel. But was Bosch ever in hell? Did he witness what he depicted? We are seeing the same type of sickness that afflicted Kosinski, though Bosch's was religiously motivated. There is no indication that Kosinski had any religious beliefs. He may have worshiped power. It would have been one of the childhood lessons he absorbed into his blood and bones, along with lessons about the need to lie, the need to hide. But power was most important. It is the prevailing theme of his work. Steps, his second novel, is composed of brief, disconnected episodes that portray variations on the relationship between victim and victimizer. Brutality is present, though not nearly to the intensity as in The Painted Bird. In Steps the means of subjugation are mainly psychological.

The Painted Bird can be seen as an exercise in power. It is an attack on the reader's sensibilities. It is also an act of seduction, for Kosinski entices the reader into complicity with his dark inner world. As the miller twists the spoon in the plowboy's eyes, we are made both victim and victimizer.


Jerzy KosinskiThe 1982 Village Voice article and the swirl of controversy that followed it marked the end of the literary career of Jerzy Kosinski. The string of novels that he was producing every two or three years came to a halt. One more book, The Hermit of 69th Street, was published six years after the article appeared. It was long (over 500 pages) and was about an author besieged by false accusations. It quickly sank into obscurity.

Whatever Kosinski felt inwardly, he did not live the life of a hermit. He devoted much time and energy to social and humanitarian causes. He worked for the creation of the Jewish Presence Foundation, aimed at "empowering" Jews. He also was involved with the establishment of AmerBank, the first Western bank chartered in post-communist Poland.

He still had money; he still traveled; he still had friends. It is fitting that Kosinski’s last night was spent at a crowded party in an Upper East Side townhouse. Fitting because that's where his life of fame and fortune began.

The party was given by the author Gay Talese. According to The New York Times, Talese detected no signs of depression. "Last night, he was moving in and out of the crowd as I've seen him on so many occasions."

Kiki told police that she had last seen her husband at 9 p.m., before he left for the party. The next morning she found him in his bathroom (they had separate bedrooms and bathrooms). He was naked in a tub half-filled with water, a plastic shopping bag twisted around his head. She said that he had been depressed about a heart condition. He had left a note in his office. In it were these words: "I am going to put myself to sleep now for a bit longer than usual. Call the time Eternity."

In researching his death, I again came across conflicting reports: the seriousness of his heart condition is definitely in doubt; some accounts of his suicide include barbiturates washed down with alcohol.

In the end, I don't understand Jerzy Kosinski. At some level, he must have judged his life as successful. Using his talent, wits, boldness and determination, he went far, if you consider the boy growing up under the most menacing of shadows. Was he happy? There is so much darkness in his novels, I wonder how much brightness there was in his life (inside him, in the place he kept hidden). I am left with a sense of pity, which I'm sure he would not want me to feel. He would prefer respect. And I can grant him that.

In the last moments of his life he again displayed an indomitable will. For Jerzy Kosinski, old age, with its frailties and loss of independence, was something he chose not to deal with. He 'chose.' He acted. He would not be a victim -- even of Time.

Related Article:
Kosinski - Between Good and Evil

Also by Phillip Routh:
The Sea Gull
Philip Roth's Everyman


Wikipedia had a link to this article. Glad I read it, it got me to thinking. I don't believe K's editors are to blame for the falsification of his childhood experiences -- he originated that deception, they gladly went along with it.. As for the anonymous who found the article "a paternalistic bunch of bull," I found Routh to be pretty fair-minded. If he expresses opinions, that's good. Isn't this magazine Arts & Opinion?
I think as the article says that he was someone who was so egotistical that he tried to make people believe that he had experienced what he wrote about. It was too fantastical. He loved to be the center of attention. He was a poor gigafo who married a rich woman to further his ambitions. I read The Painted Bird in the late 1970s as an impressionable teenager and was shocked that such a lewd novel was in our high school library. Well I guess Jerzy was just another slick operator out to make a buck.
This Instagram world demands a level playing field of moral equanimity - let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
Creativity is not bound to Political Correctness or to axiology provided the voice presented is authentically moving: artists regularly steal from one another. Kosinski was a self-made individual who raised the bar for himself, and for us all.
I agree with Phillip Routh on the issue of whether Kosinski wrote the books attributed to him. Yes, The Painted Bird is fiction, not fact, but it is great fiction, and it reflects the truth of man's inhumanity to his fellow man, whether it is reflected in the Holocaust, the Armenian Genocide, or any other of the atrocities committed in every generation since the dawn of recorded history.

I had dinner with Jerzy Kosinski at Elaine's, the literary hangout in NYC, in 1977, and the man's authenticity was as clear as his tragic view of life. He was driven to suicide by the insensitive attacks of heartless critics who failed to appreciate that his dark vision was a genuine reflection of his childhood experience of real atrocities that most of us fortunately never see, and his greatness lies in his unique ability to translate those experiences - whether they were literal truth or products of his dark imagination - into great art which transcends the boundaries between one man's experience and our universal horror at the Hell that our species has always been capable of creating.

His untimely death demands both our "sense of pity" and our admiration for a man who had the courage to confront his inner demons and the genius to translated them into timeless truth, and whose best work will long outlive the cruel personal attacks made upon him by far smaller men whose egos led them to focus on his deficiencies as a human being instead of the work for which he will be remembered far beyond his century and ours. Joseph Knight, A.M., M.D.
Shortly after Being There was published in 1970, I gave my mother, a Polish Jew born eight years before Kosinski, a copy with my enthusiastic review. After she read it she told me it was okay but that she had already read it, years before, in Polish. Polish readers noticed the similarity of Being There to a popular Polish novel, too, and it was noted in 1972 in a Polish publication. I had no way of finding the book back then. Years later I read other similar accusations. The Village Voice and others had not yet accused him of having all his books ghost written, either. That came in the 1980s. The accusations didn't surprise me because I did not doubt for a minute that my mother had "already" read the book in Polish. Without having read the Polish novel, Routh refers to a plot summary and emphasizes the differences between the two books. But my mother's certainty that she had read the book years before in Polish tells me that plot specifics aside, the general flavor of the two books was more similar than different. 
I have read this article on the life of Jerzy Kosinski some 10 years after it was published by Phillip Routh and over 25 years since the untimely death of Jerzy Kosinski. Routh gives a very balanced account and my sense is that it is fairly accurate. I have no doubt that Kosinski's "focus" the darker side of human nature (some commenting here like to refer to as a payhology) stems from the very troubled times he grew up surrounded by in Europe at that time. I tend to much prefer positive, and much more  myself optimistic art myself - yet there is also a valuable lesson in looking at the darker side of humanity that can teach us how not to be. And we should all reflect on this possibly as well before leveling all kinds of criticism Kosinski way. He was a profound man (as anyone seeing him speaking and being interviewed would attest to). Additionally what I find disturbing is the terrible politization of his critics in wanting to de legitimize totally. And that is not only an assault on truth - it is and was tragic as well.
Thanks for this info -- I read Painted Bird in my youth -- it shocked me and kind of hit my idealism a blow to the head. It wasn't til I tried to read Steps that I felt a sick bias in the author -- that sick bias which you rightly point out is today a staple of hollywood. And I agree that nothing written in 1932 could be plagiarized into Being There -- my favorite of his bitter creations. Kosinski taught me that writers (and readers) can choose darker or lighter paths of expression, but it is important to discern between artistry and indulgence, for mental health reasons if no other.
What you wrote here is enlightening for me. When I was in high school, and later, majoring in English Lit. in college, I had awareness of Mr. Kosinski's books. I never read them: I glanced through one at the library, and when Being There came out as a movie I was aware, and paid attention; a fellow student at B.U. once described to me a disgusting sequence of physical abuse in one of Kosinski's novels . . . I felt two conflicting things: he's apparently an important writer, I should read him; and 2) I don't want to read that, it sounds awful -- do I have to tolerate, or "put myself through" reading about horrific brutality? Reading about it in reviews was bad enough. I made the decision to not read any Kosinski novels, and now after reading your article here, I feel all right with my decision. Life is short, and has enough challenges. I don't have to put stuff into my head that is horrible and I won't be able to get out, afterwards. (In my own writing efforts, I try to bring -- Humour and Light . . . ) Thanks for your article. (blue collar lit
I read Being There some forty years ago, when this book was still illegal. Of course I know, The Career of Nicodemus Dyzma. Everyone in Poland knows it.
Chance nearly became president of the United States, as Disma - Polish Prime Minister. It is obvious to me that although Kosinski's novel is not 100% plagiarism, however, many alarming similarities between them are easily recognizable.
I think your take on Kosinski is balanced and insightful. There's an undeniable power to his writing, but it's the power of sensationalism --violence and grotesqueness with no ability at comprehension. D.H.Lawrence wrote of a Hemingway book: "Everything happens, nothing matters." It's hard to brush away the inhumanity of Kosinski's violence as not mattering, but there's no sense of emotional comprehension on the author's part: he's displaying his pathology. Still, it's a performance that's hard to ignore.
JK's work will outlive the scandals. Do we care who wrote Shakespeare?
Interesting. I never understood his fall from the grace of publishing houses, and never considered his work to be more than fiction, possibly based on some horrid personal experiences. I did liken his writings to the works of (which you site here). I never questioned his darkness or that of anyone that had lived in Europe during those days of madness. My friends and I read his books and accepted, even enjoyed his surreal, angry world. We were very young and Vietnam was raging. His work just seemed to fit.

My view today is that he was an incredible wordsmith and that his works were on a level considerably beyond just good. The very consistency of his work was beyond what some considerably bigger name authors were capable of. From a painter's perspective, if you take the Renaissance to the 19th century, all these artists' works were the products of studios. By comparison, Kosinski had more involvement then most of those artists. So, when the Village Voice scandal broke my friends and I merely shrugged. Even the sharpest critics cannot not question the originality of his vision, which I consider to be any artist's obligation. Today, I still consider the books, if not the author, to stand on their own and hope today's publishers might think beyond themselves and reestablish this body of work for future generations.

I never met the man, but am certain I would have been impressed by the unique energy which he managed to instill into his mindful creations. In the end, nothing else really matters except that these fine works would not have emerged without him.
Much is still being written of World War II, and probably will be for some time. It's not just that this war surpassed WW1 in 'shock and awe', but that a fundamental shift occurred therein. It's hard to find another example of mob madness and depersonalization that grew in Nazi Europe. Even though Stalin murdered more people he didn't generate the cult of personality and lust for terror that Hitler and his Nazi's managed. Its often said that Hitler was insane, but this didn't disqualify him from ruling the world. I'm sure some of what happened then is unknown in memory. If Jerzy Kosinski conjures these cruel events, weather real or imagined, a brave one is he.
Great article. Jerzy was a genius. And he was a profound genius. This will ultimately be his legacy in his writing and his life.
This article brought tears to my eyes. I read The Painted Bird as a high school sophomore. I was probably a little too young for it.
JK is a writer who was misunderstood by a majority of his critics. After all, they did not grow up in the East. I did. His novel Blind Date, for example, is a perfect journey into a human mind transformation from kind to evil under a soviet regime. It is evident that all his novels do display this kind of mind trauma/transformation. No wonder his talent was unappreciated. In general western people do not want to believe that brutality and communism go hand in hand.
Thank you for the thoughtful analysis. My own assessment is along similar lines. There is a stylistic similarity to his novels - the flat affect, the everydayness of horror, the sexual liberation that does not bring people together, the nihilism that penetrates all relationships etc. Yet there is a depthlessness to his work, especially Steps, that gives the sense that he was already dead in some sense before his physical death.
I wish I could have interviewed him for Project Shining City as I'm sure his politics would have been drawn toward his incredible-logical conclusions. His 3 great literary successes outclimb his fall by 10 light-years - and I'm sure he'll be rediscovered one day by some producer urging his wife to create The Painted Bird for the rich panavision of his vision in all its sensual lust and gore as only Hollywood dreams. His own biographical life is truly of the 21st Century 'stuffofdreams' and bears being told in some iconic myth, don't you think?
I have read all his Novels. I think Being There was the first novel I finished and it led me to appreciate fiction. I found his biography (Not the autobiography) to be very interesting. I always thought that Hollywood should make a movie about his life.
This is a very interesting article. I am not a reader of Jerzy Kosinski, his story lines would have been a bit too strong for my taste although I did see the movie Being There. I came to this article while reading about Elle Wiesel and became interested in Jerzy Kosinski. Thank you for such a well balanced article.
What a paternalistic bunch of bull. Who is this guy Phillip Routh anyway?
The Painted Bird controversy is absolutely ridiculous. Of course it's fiction! I think you would have to be one of those backwards characters from the book to actually believe it was a true account of a boy's experience: the lad always miraculously escaping at the last minute, a farmer gouging out eyes from an admirer of his wife -- this is pure fiction. Even if Kosinski did portray it as real experiences (and he didn't, it was his idiot publisher to sell copy), you would have to be a total fool to believe him. Anyone who felt misled by this wonderful novel deserves to be duped. The book represents great writing and if Kosinski didn't write his books (which I believe he did) then let the ghost writer(s) come forward. So far 20 years after JK's death we have nothing but some implausible poet somewhere making unauthenticated claims. It's time to lay off the "we were misled by JK bandwagon," Let the guy rest in peace and enjoy HIS writing.
I've only read and reread Cockpit, and found it a compelling page turner, carefully structured to keep the reader wanting more. Thanks for an interesting artice on JK as I was curious to know what type of author would create such works. There is definite evidence that he condensed a lot to avoid it becoming boring, which it never was. I admire Cockpit for it's edge and will no doubt read it again. Regardless of his faults he gave a reader a good story.
I think that Cockpit is his best novel.
I was his friend and after his demise I made a the film Who was Jerzy Kosinski?
Yet so many years later the question still haunts me.
Jack Kuper
Being There and the subsequent movie were excellent. Excellent in that the humor was truly funny because, in an absurd way, it is all too frequently the way people achieve fame and fortune. Human effort may not play a major part of anyone's rise to the top. In fact, real talent and ability may be an obstacle to achievement. However, I am perplexed; how can anyone who wrote such an insightful and humorous book take their own life? Thanks, Ron Howard

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2015 Festival Nouveau Cinema de Montreal, Oct. 07-18st, (514) 844-2172
2012 Festival Montreal en Lumiere
Nuit d'Afrique: July 8th - July 20st
Montreal World Film Festival
2015 Montreal's Off Jazz Festival Oct 1st to 10th
2015 Montreal Chamber Music Festival
Andrew Hlavacek - Arts & Culture Blog (Montreal)
Listing + Ratings of films from festivals, art houses, indie
David Solway's Blood Guitar CD
Montreal Jazz Festival
2014 Montreal Francofolies Music Festival with Lynda Renée
2014 IMAGE + NATION film festival (Montreal)
2014 Space for Life Concerts @Montreal Botanical Gardens
Lynda Renée: Chroniques Québécois - Blog
Montreal Guitar Show July 2-4th (Sylvain Luc etc.). border=
2013 Montreal Chamber Music Festival
Arion Baroque Orchestra Montreal
April 25th to May 4th: Montreal
Bougie Hall Orchestera Montreal
2008 Jazz en Rafale Festival (Montreal) - Mar. 27th - April 5th -- Tél. 514-490-9613 ext-101
CD Dignity by John Lavery available by e-mail: - 10$ + 3$ shipping.
© Roberto Romei Rotondo
Photo by David Lieber:
Armand Vaillancourt: sculptor
Canadian Tire Repair Scam [2211 boul Roland-Therrien, Longueuil] = documents-proofs
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