To protect literature and journalism from becoming replaceable

Though my 34-year career has established me as a journalist, my earliest dreams of being published were in poetry, not journalism. My first byline was for a poem, not an article, and my gratitude for poetry runs deep because it opened the door to journalism, not the other way around. Those reading this poetry collection might assume I moved from journalism to poetry, but it's the opposite.

If I were to describe my poems without claiming to be a critic, I'd say they reflect personal experiences, much like my other writings. I’ve never written a poem unrelated to something I’ve lived through; they are "poetic experiences" rather than products of a literary workshop.

This connection between my early days in poetry and my later career in journalism feels organic. I share this so you might understand why I’m drawn to both and see no need to "judge" me for writing poetry.

This book is a kind of time capsule, spanning three decades and containing poems from all stages of my life. This progression is clear even without the dates each poem was written.

On the subject of documenting time through poetry, I want to say a few words about today’s young journalists and poets. Journalism has evolved dramatically, and so have we. But what concerns me most is how far today’s journalists have drifted from literature and from reading in general, relying heavily on technology.

This distance shows in their limited vocabulary and lack of skill in engaging readers with words. The same issue applies to young writers who overlook journalism as a valuable foundation for literature. While journalism may lack artistry, it provides material that shapes a strong writer. Those who ignore it deny themselves growth.

The debate over literature’s role in journalism is longstanding. Some, like me, believe literature enriches journalism, while others argue that it compromises factual reporting. However, a journalist’s integrity, not their literary background, determines the truth of their reporting. When young journalists detach from books and reading, they become more vulnerable to manipulation, less resilient, and ultimately less distinctive.

On the other hand, distancing literature from everyday reality impoverishes it. One of Europe’s best recent novels, The Enlargement by Austrian author Robert Menasse, centers on modern Albania—a place we see daily yet often overlook. This novel seamlessly combines literature and journalism, a trend of our time.

Just as superficial journalism risks being replaced by AI, so too does literature. In newsrooms today, proofreaders are often replaced by ChatGPT, stats are readily available online, and live events are streamed on social media. The only distinguishing factor left is a journalist’s unique style and perspective.

Looking back over the last three decades, it’s clear that the journalists who have endured in Albania are those grounded in literature. Figures like Prec Zogaj, Rudina Xhunga, Ylli Rakipi, Blendi Fevziu, and others have thrived not just by reporting news but by bringing a literary depth to their work.

Literature, in essence, acts as a vaccine—once taken, it builds immunity against mediocrity. As much as I view myself as a capable journalist, I’m profoundly grateful for this "vaccine."

For literature to withstand the threats it faces, it must stay close to truths that are genuine, irreplaceable, and unchanging.

Excerpt from my speech at the launch of my book “Rain with Mud.”