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The Far Road
Amidst a landscape of corpses, during the Sino-Japanese war in 1944, two foreign correspondents, David Meredith and George Conover, set out on an assignment into the interior of drought-stricken China.
255 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1962
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About the author
George Johnston
26 books26 followersGeorge Henry Johnston was an Australia journalist, war correspondent and novelist. He published some thirty works, several of which were written in collaboration with his wife, the writer Charmian Clift.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
February 3, 2021
A confronting and compelling book based on George Johnston's own experience of witnessing the disastrous fleeing of the population of Kweilin in China in 1944, fearing a Japanese invasion. An honest look at the tragedy and manipulation of war and its impact on the individuals involved.
7.5/10
7.5/10
June 3, 2016
An excellent book tackling the ethics of being a war correspondent.
I had to do a bit of a hunt to get hold of a copy of The Far Road by George Johnson OBE (1912-1970). It is long out of print, and only a few libraries still had a copy when I ended up scouting around on ZPortal. Now that I’ve read the novel, its demise seems all the more surprising, because I think it makes essential reading for anyone interested in the ethics of journalism. That would be all journalists, right?
Here in Australia there have been a few high-profile cases of journalists’ burnout, most notably one that resulted in drug abuse in a country that has mandatory capital punishment for drug offences. But there have also been disturbing programs on Radio National and the ABC about the long-term impact of reporting in dangerous places where war correspondents’ witness horrific events. But it is not just warfare that can overwhelm a journalist. Bearing witness to natural disasters which cause mass deaths such as the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami or the 2011 famine in Somalia causes anguish too, especially when the journalist’s best efforts are met with public indifference. Employers clearly have a responsibility to monitor the wellbeing of their staff and in some cases to override the journalist’s sense of mission if it means his/her mental health is at risk.
But what Johnson exposes is that consumers of ‘the news’ in all its forms bear some responsibility too. We want to know, but not too much. We don’t want to see any really horrible pictures, we don’t want to read really graphic descriptions of the horror. We want the sanitised version. ‘Human kind cannot bear very much reality’ wrote T.S. Eliot in Four Quartets, and so the story that is filed is filtered to make it ‘acceptable’. Charlotte Wood showed the frustration this can cause in her portrayal of a journalist trying to fit back into the normality of a family reunion in her novel The Children, but in The Far Road Johnson explores the impact of atrocity on two very different men as they witness it.
To read the rest of my review please visit http://anzlitlovers.com/2012/08/27/th...
I had to do a bit of a hunt to get hold of a copy of The Far Road by George Johnson OBE (1912-1970). It is long out of print, and only a few libraries still had a copy when I ended up scouting around on ZPortal. Now that I’ve read the novel, its demise seems all the more surprising, because I think it makes essential reading for anyone interested in the ethics of journalism. That would be all journalists, right?
Here in Australia there have been a few high-profile cases of journalists’ burnout, most notably one that resulted in drug abuse in a country that has mandatory capital punishment for drug offences. But there have also been disturbing programs on Radio National and the ABC about the long-term impact of reporting in dangerous places where war correspondents’ witness horrific events. But it is not just warfare that can overwhelm a journalist. Bearing witness to natural disasters which cause mass deaths such as the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami or the 2011 famine in Somalia causes anguish too, especially when the journalist’s best efforts are met with public indifference. Employers clearly have a responsibility to monitor the wellbeing of their staff and in some cases to override the journalist’s sense of mission if it means his/her mental health is at risk.
But what Johnson exposes is that consumers of ‘the news’ in all its forms bear some responsibility too. We want to know, but not too much. We don’t want to see any really horrible pictures, we don’t want to read really graphic descriptions of the horror. We want the sanitised version. ‘Human kind cannot bear very much reality’ wrote T.S. Eliot in Four Quartets, and so the story that is filed is filtered to make it ‘acceptable’. Charlotte Wood showed the frustration this can cause in her portrayal of a journalist trying to fit back into the normality of a family reunion in her novel The Children, but in The Far Road Johnson explores the impact of atrocity on two very different men as they witness it.
To read the rest of my review please visit http://anzlitlovers.com/2012/08/27/th...
July 28, 2012
George Johnston uses the character of his alter ego, David Meredith, to tell the astonishing story of a long drive through China, following the trail of a population that has totally abandoned the city of Kweilin, fearing renewed Japanese attacks. With little food and too many people attempting to survive in a drought-stricken area, the pair of foreign correspondents come across first a few, and then hundreds of corpses as people fall by the wayside. It is a dramatic and awful story of the war which was so overshadowed by events elsewhere that it is little known today. One of Johnston's most powerful texts.
December 20, 2022
This was a very disturbing book, probably the most disturbing book I have read in a really long time. I thought passages of Life and Fate were disturbing, but this was worse from start to end.
I am fascinated by journalism and journalists. I think part of that is because I think I want to be one someday. But even moreso I am fascinated by war correspondents. I don't think I want to be a war correspondent, but I find the idea incredibly interesting. I think you have to be a little unhinged to actively seek out that kind of horror and danger; something that most people are trying to get away from.
But I hadn't really put much thought to the ethics of being a war correspondent before - of watching so many horrible things, and actually taking part in horrible things in your decisive lack of agency, and putting those things into words for readers on the other side of the world, who are safe in their living rooms and bedrooms and local cafes. A specific point I found interesting was that war correspondents tend to draw attention to all the danger they braved to get a story, despite the fact that they are voluntary observers, while most of the people caught up in the tragedy didn't consent to be there, and are just trying to stay alive.
There is a lot of death in this book; death is everywhere and it is ugly. Bodies, bodies and more bodies, all along a road. Dust and sand and drought and bodies. Parched and twisted. Everywhere. That's what sticks with me.
I also found it extremely interesting to read about China during this period. China in the Second World War is the forgotten theatre - a huge amount happened there (in fact, the war started earlier in China in 1937 at least, depending on who you talk to), and an unimaginable amount of people died. The suffering was on a scale that is really quite hard to register, and I think really impossible to understand. This book did a pretty good job at portraying it, from the despair of the people at the river to the desperation of the people on the train (which made me think of the scenes we saw from Afghanistan in September or so last year), and to the plain horror of the bodies. But even so, it was still hard to register that these were all people, who had lives and hopes and dreams and fears and histories. Hundreds of thousands of histories cut short by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, listening to the wrong people. Truly horrific.
Overall, I would definitely recommend this if you can find it and if you can stomach it. I'm surprised it hasn't been made into a movie. Well I'm not really surprised, but I think it would work really well. The story is very nicely contained and the descent into realisation we see in Meredith happens over a short period of time. The way he is portrayed is perceptive and sensitive and brilliant, especially as he is a self-insert for Johnston. The other character, Conover, is also depicted well - I hated him by the end, and I think that was the point. All in all, a fantastic read and one I think I will return to one day.
I am fascinated by journalism and journalists. I think part of that is because I think I want to be one someday. But even moreso I am fascinated by war correspondents. I don't think I want to be a war correspondent, but I find the idea incredibly interesting. I think you have to be a little unhinged to actively seek out that kind of horror and danger; something that most people are trying to get away from.
But I hadn't really put much thought to the ethics of being a war correspondent before - of watching so many horrible things, and actually taking part in horrible things in your decisive lack of agency, and putting those things into words for readers on the other side of the world, who are safe in their living rooms and bedrooms and local cafes. A specific point I found interesting was that war correspondents tend to draw attention to all the danger they braved to get a story, despite the fact that they are voluntary observers, while most of the people caught up in the tragedy didn't consent to be there, and are just trying to stay alive.
There is a lot of death in this book; death is everywhere and it is ugly. Bodies, bodies and more bodies, all along a road. Dust and sand and drought and bodies. Parched and twisted. Everywhere. That's what sticks with me.
I also found it extremely interesting to read about China during this period. China in the Second World War is the forgotten theatre - a huge amount happened there (in fact, the war started earlier in China in 1937 at least, depending on who you talk to), and an unimaginable amount of people died. The suffering was on a scale that is really quite hard to register, and I think really impossible to understand. This book did a pretty good job at portraying it, from the despair of the people at the river to the desperation of the people on the train (which made me think of the scenes we saw from Afghanistan in September or so last year), and to the plain horror of the bodies. But even so, it was still hard to register that these were all people, who had lives and hopes and dreams and fears and histories. Hundreds of thousands of histories cut short by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, listening to the wrong people. Truly horrific.
Overall, I would definitely recommend this if you can find it and if you can stomach it. I'm surprised it hasn't been made into a movie. Well I'm not really surprised, but I think it would work really well. The story is very nicely contained and the descent into realisation we see in Meredith happens over a short period of time. The way he is portrayed is perceptive and sensitive and brilliant, especially as he is a self-insert for Johnston. The other character, Conover, is also depicted well - I hated him by the end, and I think that was the point. All in all, a fantastic read and one I think I will return to one day.
June 17, 2025
This is a cracking book. Underappreciated and certainly should be counted among Johnston's best work. It's also a harrowing read that leaves its mark on readers.
March 14, 2015
donated to The Smith Family charity
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews