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wrote a memoir about his war years. He became a publishing phenomenon, says Paul Gessell The Ottawa Citizen Saturday, June 17, 2000 Page: K1 Section: Arts Byline: Paul Gessell Source: The Ottawa Citizen Aleksander Topolski rises from an armchair in the living room of his Chelsea home, walks into the kitchen and returns holding a photograph of Romcio Szymanski, the man who saved his life almost 60 years ago in Russia. The snapshot shows Topolski with his arm slung across the shoulder of Szymanski in the way two young school chums would pose for the camera. But these are two old men whose smiling faces offer no clues about the terrible experiences they shared during the Second World War in the former Soviet Union. The two men met a month ago in Poland for the first time since the day Szymanski removed the warm, padded jacket he was wearing to give to his old prison-mate Topolski. Szymanski had no need of the jacket because he was going to hospital to be treated for pneumonia. Topolski was wandering around Russia, in the cold, trying to hitch up with the Polish army-in-exile. He would have died without warm clothing. Ironically, Szymanski's life was also saved by this transfer of a garment. The details can be found in Topolski's newly published book, Without Vodka, a unique wartime memoir with a special place in the annals of Canadian publishing. The 77-year-old Topolski started composing Without Vodka six years ago by typing, using just two fingers, on the keyboard of his personal computer in his Outaouais home just a stone's throw from the Gatineau River. The book was written in a conversational, rather than a literary, style, originally just for family, friends -- and himself: ``I wanted to tidy up my memories,'' Topolski says over a pot of newly brewed tea. Without Vodka surfaced last year as a self-published book. Only 200 copies were printed and all were quickly sold. The Bukowski Agency, which shops books around to publishers, showed Without Vodka to the Toronto publishing firm McArthur and Company, which snapped up the Canadian rights, edited the material and produced a new, slicker copy this month for national distribution. A deal with an American publisher is also likely, says Topolski. Self-published, or vanity books, as they are known in the trade, are usually avoided like the plague by mainstream publishers. But Without Vodka was different. ``It's a rare thing,'' says Sherie Hodds, a spokeswoman for McArthur. ``But if the writing is good enough, then there is a market and it should be published, yes. The writing is fantastic in this book and the story is not well known.'' The story begins in 1939 when Topolski was 16 years old and living in Poland. The Germans had just overran most of Poland but, in the eastern part of the country where Topolski's family lived, the Soviets had invaded. Fearing the Soviet soldiers, Topolski tried to flee to Romania. But he was captured by the Soviets and spent the next two years living in harsh Russian prisons and labour camps, constantly on the brink of starvation and surrounded by torture, death and privation. His hardships continued even after being released from prison. He was forced to wander around the Soviet Union for several months, penniless and still starving, trying to hook up with the Polish army. Finally, in 1942, he and a group of Polish soldiers left the Soviet Union for Iran and joined the allied military campaign in the Middle East and Italy. Without Vodka is amazingly cheerful and upbeat despite the meticulously detailed descriptions of the death and destruction that accompanied Topolski's descent into the hell of the Soviet prison system. We see a rusty nail being pounded into the head of a card-cheating Russian criminal. We see the bodies of dead German prisoners of war stacked like cordwood in the winter. We feel, ceaselessly, the hunger that drove Topolski to beg, borrow and steal crumbs of bread or scraps of fat.So, why does the book still come across as cheerful? ``I am like that,'' says Topolski. ``It was not deliberate.'' The book is not irreverent. It is not Hogan's Heroes. And it does not trivialize the pain suffered by both the prisoners and civilians of wartime Russia. But it does seem to be written with a total absence of bitterness and anger and by a man who has made peace with the world. ``I never considered my story as a tragic story,'' says Topolski. Following the war, Topolski studied in Britain, became an architect and, in 1957, came to Canada en route to Australia. He stopped to visit a friend in the Kirk's Ferry neighbourhood of what is now called Chelsea, just north of Hull. He's been there almost continuously since, marrying, raising three children and working as an architect, first for private firms and then for the federal government. Topolski had tracked down his old friend, Szymanski, in 1988, but did not actually get to see him until about a month ago. It was only in 1988 that Topolski learned how the jacket, or the loss of it, had helped save his friend's life. Here is how the book tells the tale: ``He somehow got through the pneumonia. Then he was pronounced fit and discharged, but while walking along the corridor to the exit, he bumped into his doctor who took one look at him and said: `You can't go out without a coat in winter after pneumonia! You'll have to stay here until we find some clothes for you.' And the good doctor harboured him and kept him on the hospital diet for three months longer until enough patients had died to outfit him with their clothes, which included oversized, bright yellow trousers and a black fedora.'' Without that extra three months of food and shelter at the hospital, Szymanski himself might have died. When the two old men met last month in Poland, they instantly recognized one another. ``Long time, long time,'' Szymanski said in greeting Topolski. ``What would you like to drink?'' They chatted about old times. Topolski said he was amazed how much they remembered the past in the same way. Sometimes, when he meets a fellow prisoner from those days, the old friend only remembers the most depressing elements. And sometimes old friends remember nothing at all because they have repressed all the horrors. Topolski seems to like remembering. He has already almost finished a sequel to Without Vodka. It's to be called Without a Roof and deals with his experiences in the Polish army in the Mideast and Italy. Idnumber: 200006170031 Edition: Final Story Type: Feature; Profile Illustration Type: Colour Photo Illustration: Color Photo: Aleksander Topolski Color Photo: Both Aleksander Topolski, left, and Romcio Szymanski received the ultimate gift -- life itself -- when Szymanski gave his coat to fellow PoW Topolski during the Second World War. The pair recently reunited for the first time since that very personal wartime gift. Note: Profile of Aleksander Topolski Length: 1070 words *********************** |
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