On April 19, 2014, an American journalist who had been in the hands of Islamic terrorists for two years was executed by beheading in Syria: his name was Jim Foley, and the video of his barbaric execution shocked the world. He was the firstborn of five children, all boys, of a Catholic couple of Irish origin from Illinois. His mother Diane Foley has always publicly honored the memory of her son, a victim of ferocity and fanaticism for the sole crime of carrying out his work as a reporter. The Irish writer Colum McCann with Diane Foley herself in the book A mother (Feltrinelli), gives voice to a story that unfolds through the months of James’s captivity, the efforts to bring him home and the days following his tragic death. A story that does not only speak of brutality, bureaucratic red herrings, incompetence of the authorities and political rigor, but also of the days when Jim was a child, of how his strong interest since childhood for travel, adventure and the stories of others had then led him to journalism. on the occasion of his arrival in Italy where he participated in the Meeting of Rimini and the Festivaletteratura of Mantua we interviewed him.
When and why did you decide to dedicate yourself to this terrible story?
«In August 2014 my inbox was flooded with emails about a photo of Jim Foley, not the one from when he was killed but when he was still alive, free and happy, when he was still alive. He had been photographed in a military bunker, while he was reading my book Let the Great World Spin. I was deeply touched. A few months later I decided to write an email to his mother, Diane, telling her that I would be happy to help her write her son’s story, or even her own. I never heard from her. Six years later while I was on tour for Apeirogon During a Zoom call with Marquette University (where Jim studied), I mentioned that I had tried to connect with Diane, and that I was still deeply moved by the photograph of her son reading one of my novels. One of Jim’s best friends, Tom Durkin, was in attendance. An hour later, my inbox beeped. It was Diane. She apologized and said she had never seen my email. After her son’s death, she had tried to write her story, but had regretfully failed, because she had wanted so much to make it public. I was struck by Diane’s candor, grace, and honesty. I quickly told her that I would drive from my home in New York to her home in New Hampshire, where I could sit with her and her husband, John, and perhaps take on the role of “story whisperer.” It was 2021, and I knew her story needed to be told, and I hoped I could help thaw some of that frozen sea. She made another proposal: She would like me to accompany her to a courthouse in Virginia where she had been given the opportunity to speak with one of her son’s killers, Alexanda Kotey, who had admitted her responsibility for the kidnapping and the decision to kill him. Part of her plea deal was that she would speak either to the surviving kidnappers or to the families of the victims. This story was taking on a whole new dimension… And no, I don’t see it as a terrible story, but as an opportunity to find some light in the horrible darkness…
What does it mean emotionally for an author to give voice to the pain of a mother who has lost a child in such an atrocious and absurd way?
“I become a kind of ventriloquist. I try to capture her voice. I don’t suffer nearly as much pain, but I give readers the opportunity to understand her pain. It’s a form of radical empathy. I was there in that room when she spoke to Kotey. I sat next to her. I asked questions, too. But I didn’t want to become a character in this book. It’s not a book about me. It’s about Diane. So I’m a bit of a ghost floating in reality. And sometimes I feel Jim on my shoulder, whispering to me.”
The meeting between a victim’s relative and her convicted murderer is called “restorative justice” in Italy, which is different from the concept of forgiveness. Did something similar happen to Diane Foley?
“I like the term restorative justice. And you’re right, it’s not the same as forgiveness. I think for Diane, it was a fusion of the two. She deeply understands that justice is of no use if it ever veers into vengeance. For her, justice is an article of faith.”
Does this new book of yours fall into the genre defined as “literary nonfiction” or “narrative essay” in which, for example, Emmanuel Carrére distinguished himself?
«Well, this is my first real nonfiction book, and I suppose it’s literary nonfiction, yes. I’ve written Letters to a young writerand but I don’t think it falls into that category. I started my career as a journalist and I continue to believe that I am one even when I write other things. I am here to record what we call the truth. But I wanted the first part of A mother it was a bit like a novel. And I’m a big fan of Emmanuel Carrére. I would be honored to be placed on a shelf next to his books.”
