Yes! I can Manage, Thank You
Virginia Ironside (Quercus)
Marie Sharp sees herself as a bit of a pussycat (when she’s not worrying that maybe she’s a psychopath) but others see her as a terrifying old bat. She has a wide and problematic circle of friends, a much loved son and grandson, and an ex-husband, all of whom complicate her life to no end. But she’s up for anything, including kidnapping a neglected dog and taking on the problems of a sad six year old in the art class where she’s helping out. This is the third volume of her diaries. Hilarious.
- Margaret von Klemperer
Lisa Scottoline (Headline)
A modern morality tale. Jack Buckman, in a misguided bonding moment with his son Ryan, lets the learner driver take the wheel one night on a deserted street, contrary to the rules. A woman jogger comes from nowhere and the impact is fatal. The options are to own up or drive on and the split-second decision that Jack makes to protect his son has terrible ramifications that ripple through the lives of all the families involved.
- William Saunderson-Meyer @TheJaundicedEye
A Slim Green Silence
Beverly Rycroft (Umuzi)
Floating towards her hometown on “the warped bench” of a boat with her new companion, the Boatman, the reader realises Constance West is dead, but not gone. “How long has it been?” she wonders. It is a year, and tensions in Scheepersdorp are coming to a head, its sagas unravelling as Con tells the Boatman her story. The story will move you, leave you cold, make you angry – and when you no longer want to let it go, release you to the slim, green silence. I highly recommend it.
- Chantelle Gray van Heerden @CGrayvH
Nora Roberts (Piatkus)
Even if it seems she has told this story many times before, Roberts’ deftness in creating likable and believable heroines makes her new book a compelling read. Shelby Foxworth has found out that her dead husband was a scoundrel and a liar. He left her with a crushing debt that she has to pay back, as well as look after her three-year-old daughter. She meets the swaggering Griff Lott (what a name!), but there are many dangerous secrets that threaten her new life.
- Jennifer Platt @Jenniferdplatt
By Michele Magwood for the Sunday Times
A God in Ruins
Kate Atkinson (Doubleday)
“A man”, wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson, “is a god in ruins.” And there can be no more ruination, more wreckage of man, surely, than war. Kate Atkinson has been preoccupied by the two world wars, noting that as a child growing up in the ’50s the recent war was never mentioned, even though it had ravaged her extended family. She came to realise that faced with the depleted, diminished aftermath of the war, people just wanted to forget it.
In a recent interview, she said, “I see writing as a form of rescue,” and in her last, monumental book, Life After Life, and now in this new novel, Atkinson rescues the wraiths of the war, reimagining lives, futures and possibilities. While it is not strictly necessary to have read Life After Life to appreciate this book – what she calls a “companion piece” rather than a sequel – it makes it enormously satisfying to revisit a family you already know, the Todds.
Life After Life centred on the character of Ursula Todd, who lives her life over and over again, Atkinson’s temporal sleight of hand that played with the nature of storytelling itself. With a twist of her pen she tumbled the shards of her kaleidoscope, the bright pieces settling into new shapes, new destinies, new history.
A God in Ruins follows the life of Ursula’s younger brother Teddy, beloved by all, who survives the war and must live “in the afterward”. Teddy was a bomber pilot, gallant and glamorous, but with the heart of a poet. The scenes of air combat, while at times over-long, are gutting as Atkinson drops us into the roaring belly of the Halifax aircraft, “burning burned-out towns, bombing bombed-out cities”. The pilots were, she writes, “birds thrown against a wall, in the hope that eventually, if there were enough birds, they would break that wall.”
Teddy is shot down again and again, but survives, until he is captured and spends the end of the war in a POW camp in Germany. “He had been reconciled to death… and then suddenly the war was over and there was a next day and a next day and a next day. Part of him never adjusted to having a future.”
When he returns, he marries his childhood sweetheart Nancy, who had spent her war breaking codes. She carries this secrecy into her own afterward; they subside into a muted, conservative existence and have a child, Viola, who grows into a repellent harpy and in turn produces two children.
Once again Atkinson plays with time, seeding the story with glimpses of a nonagenarian Ted in a nursing home, whipping us back to his Arcadian childhood. The chapters echo with motifs: a red thread tracing a flight path in 1945 reappears as an emergency cord dangling in Ted’s retirement home; birds repeat in many forms, becoming airplanes and angels.
When he emerged, blinking, into the afterward, Teddy resolved that “he would try always to be kind. It was the best he could do. It was all that he could do.” But his steadiness, his wise gentleness, is sorely tried by Viola, who is contemptuous of her father and ricochets through her own life, from fad to fad, neglecting her damaged children, until Atkinson finally affords her some redemption. In a way Viola’s life embodies the postwar history of Britain, from the risible idealism of the hippies, through Greenham Common, to a hilarious contemporary setpiece involving chav hen parties. In Viola’s good and kind daughter Bertie, Atkinson offers us hope.
In Life After Life a character says, “We must all bear witness for when we are safely in the future.” Here, in the future, Kate Atkinson bears powerful witness to the past, a passing bell for those who died as cattle. It is heartbreaking. – @michelemagwood
Poet, author and activist Antjie Krog delivered the keynote address at the 2015 Sunday Times Literary Awards on Saturday. She made a call for white South Africans to perform an act of radical outreach, similar to that of Nelson Mandela 20 years ago when he donned Francois Pienaar’s jersey at the 1995 Rugby World Cup.
Krog made various statements which drew spirited reactions from the crowd – some not as positive as others (scroll to the end to see the reaction on Twitter).
Read her speech in full, and see the images Krog used to illustrate her point:
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Inappropriate Text for an Appropriate Evening
Allow me tonight to open with an incident from Country of my Skull.
During a public meeting with the then Minister of Finance he was asked whether there was a post-Truth and Reconciliation plan to get from whites what was needed to repair the past? He answered: even if we take everything whites have, it will never make up for what they did. What we need, to address inequality is a 6% growth rate.
This was of course the truth. Nothing could ever repair the damage of three centuries. But in another way it was also a mark of a general unwillingness by all of us to do some complex thinking.
With the wisdom of hindsight one wishes there had been a Rhodes Must Fall group to ignite a proper conversation on the consequences of not changing our world. What was it that black people desired after apartheid? What were the outlines of their dreams? Also, what was the biggest challenge: establishing racial equality and then attending poverty? Or a drive to reduce poverty through various mechanisms of which a crucial one was race.
It would have been important for whites then to have heard the conditions under which they were to be accommodated or rejected: we don’t want whites here; or: we want whites, but only poor ones – or only rich ones; or: we want whites willingly to take responsibility for everything that fails; or: for three centuries the country has invested its best and most powerful resources in you, so for three generations you will use your accumulated skills, knowledge and resources to eradicate for ever the Verwoerd education system, or mend the distorted transport system, or build an appropriate health system; or perhaps even: every white should report to a township school and assist with rendering services from cleaning toilets and safeguarding buildings and people, to teaching and marking as and when necessary.
However problematic or unpractical these suggestions might sound, they would have focused all of our minds on what kind of society we wanted to live in. And what we were willing to pay for it.
I mean, whatever was negotiated and understood, misunderstood or taken for granted – was there anybody in South Africa who thought that the country materially had to stay as it was with all the resources remaining in specific areas and classes? Remember Yeats:
Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot.
A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot.
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again:
The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
How many Afrikaners assumed that they could raise their children and grandchildren in a ghetto of ethnic privilege and language, avoiding everything that had to do with the continent they so blithely named themselves after? Did whites really think that setting matters right stopped at charity, NGOs, philanthropy, paying domestic workers more than a living wage and allowing a black middle class to grow?
At this post-Marikana stage it is perhaps time to speak frankly – to engage in brutal public conversations. It is especially time for anger. I respect anger. Anger is often where important change begins. Not the anger of destruction, but the anger which brings clarity of direction and resolute lucidity. When someone in anger says: “We must kill the whites … ” it is important to hear real responses: and then what? Or: how? OR more importantly: on what principle? This is not to play around irresponsibly with fears, rage and desires, but to bring into the open what is being murmured under angry breaths, what festers in horrific killings, emotional repression and violent neglect of human dignity. It is time to discuss and argue these things. How do we get to radical change? How will the means influence the outcome? If there are race-killings, expropriations, squattings as a consequence of unrelieved poverty and dashed expectations of change – what will happen? And who will care enough to start dealing with the root causes and wounds?
Recently a comprehensive research project was done on racism on campuses. An interesting element was that apparently all the students, irrespective of colour, expressed a desire to move: ‘beyond race’. Yet, the moment they themselves begin to talk about their circumstances and dreams, they fell back into old apartheid categories. Thus one of the conclusions is that we are not enabling students to move beyond the racial lexicon of apartheid. The irony, as Neville Alexander noted: is that those born free from racial classification are now forced by government practice to classify themselves when filling in forms as white, coloured, black or Indian.
In the absence of a plan to get what is needed from whites and the absence of new content to the pronoun ‘us’, a question: what would most South Africans older than thirty two, respond, when asked to name a visual image which brought home like a thunderbolt the profound moment of radical change?
Mandela in a Springbok jersey / Mandela taking the national salute:
Mandela with Mbeki and de Klerk:
But as they ask in IQ tests: what should the next frame look like?
In the first two images, outreach is from the black side.
Personally I want an image showing whites in an equally radical act of outreach. After the TRC there was intense hope for a White Prince of Reconciliation: a powerful not-guilty white man to say: on behalf of all whites, I am sorry, we want to build with you a new society of sharing, tell us what to do. That never happened. The Home For All campaign, eliciting tons of scorn and ridicule, barely raised eight hundred signatures, so after twenty years the third frame is still empty.
And yet, many whites are doing things. Enormous things. Small things. Wonderful things. (So do black people, but the frame needs the input from whites!) Many people, old and young, are being assisted by whites, many lives are being saved, talents nurtured and sponsored, and every person assisted is a person assisted, whatever the motives or the affluence from which it originated. So why don’t whites have an image to put in here? Is it just bad PR or is it that charity and aid often immobilise efforts of radical change while simultaneously allowing government to blissfully ignore the poor.
But whites working shoulder to shoulder with blacks, as equals, as partners, as fellow citizens, could present an image of a sweeping paradigm shift able radically to change the South African landscape for the good. But what should blacks and whites be doing to psychologically complete the visual frame series inspirationally? Let’s have phone-ins with plans and a referendum choosing among them.
Because what was promised in 1994, didn’t happen. A systemic fault line prevented the momentous emblematic political transformation from being complemented by an equally momentous emblematic socioeconomic transformation. Was everybody so caught up in placating the interests of capital that we assumed that it was enough that affirmative action was meant for those already employed and BEE for those mixing with the elite? How on earth could we think this was ethically correct? Or that it will hold?
In one’s frustration one is pushed to imagine whether the empty frame calls for a two year Radical Reconstruction Period in which all energy, all resources and every South African is used in order to achieve massive structural change. The image that comes to mind is of a particular kind of scrambled egg, one made after the yolk and white has been fried hard. Everything is put on hold, salary increases, price increases, even the constitution is used to take us towards systemic changes, until the collective spatula has cut the whole lot to pieces for a proper, fairer mix.
Will that do the job? First a step back. Ten years ago I felt that all land should be nationalised. Then one could say: the land truly belongs to all the South African people, all of us; those on farms merely have leasehold. But with the current set of leaders it seems problematic to execute any plan demanding of clear ethical thinking, selfless motivation and moral example.
Every week there are problematic responses to headline issues. One remarkable example is the open letter of President Zuma to Mozambican writer Mia Couto saying that the government is driving a campaign to tell South Africans not to kill other Africans as they assisted the ANC in their struggle against apartheid. Does the President notice that he implies that those who did NOT actively support the ANC in exile – the Somalians, the Moroccans, the PAC-supporting Zimbabweans – are fair game?
Listening to ANC politicians and spokespersons is often like entering an ethical desert where all life is centred on riches that will dawn like a lottery win on individuals doing the protect Zuma-tapdance. The poor suddenly have to become entrepreneurs. The rhetoric of freedom and justice has evaporated into increasingly shabby talk about a developmental state, while the examples of leaders suggest freedom from apartheid means freedom to shop and especially freedom not to be accountable.
When last did we hear anybody talk about a just society, a better life for everybody, suggesting that enough was a feast? In strikes and wage bargaining one seldom hears the words: justice, fairness, empathy. And why would we – being bombarded by the vulgar excesses of celebrity life and vainglorious luxury on television, billboards and magazines only acknowledging the right to consume?
To return to the Rhodes Must Fall group: it has surely done well to create awareness of the need to face issues; of the kind of activism that understands the importance of thinking as a form of collective activity. But precisely for that reason, and because collectivity can humanise a space, it is important to press for clarity of thought to educate us all. Are they teaching us that to reject Rhodes solely on grounds of his racism is implicitly to endorse the inequality, exploitation and state violence of the present?
Fanon warned decades ago how quickly liberation can degenerate when it lacks humanist content. Movements without it, fall into undemocratic and brutal ways especially when a ruling party, masked by the mixed rhetoric of Africanism, Ubuntu and possessive individualism, begins to focus only on sectional and ethnic interests. He suggested that in order not to create new hierarchies, we should establish ‘relations of comradeship, of solidarity, of love, relations which prefigure the sort of society we struggle for.’
But let us return to the seemingly impossible image of the hard fried egg that needs to be scrambled.
The essence of colonialism is space – the expropriation and personal consuming of space. The colonial and apartheid worlds were worlds divided and dividing. Therefore decolonisation must mean the making whole, the recreation, reappropriation and reconfiguration of space. It means more than simply eradicating the lines of force that keep zones apart; it requires fundamental social and economic change.
For example: during this suggested two year Radical Reconstruction Period all suburbs and farms are given two years of free range to scramble themselves. Every house in the suburbs should be confronted by the fact of shackness, every park filled with squatters, every street with vendors. Every home and land owner, every suburb, every farm free to negotiate a living space with whomever moves in.
Liberation remains incomplete when the colonial or apartheid city is not reorganised, but simply taken over. A ban should be put on changing the name of any town/street/space before that community has fundamentally, practically and collectively prioritised the poor. Those who finish their studies, and those who have retired, should work for a year in the town or city of their birth to remove backlogs and shortages in courts, hospitals, schools, administrative offices, infrastructure support, corruption investigations, child care etc. For no salary. The town will provide food and a place to sleep.
We are facing a disaster in the absence of a crucial social unifying vision of a humane society. The times are pitiless. No vision is coming to save us. Let us dirty our hands with the tactics of the kind of communality needed to create openings into which new rhythms, new language and new modes of being human can be poured.
We did it once. We surprised ourselves in doing what was not thought possible (a political transformation despite our historical and current political context). The times are demanding from us to do so again: bringing about the impossible: an economic transformation despite a neoliberal context and rotten leadership. And in order to pull it off, we need to have all the conversations, deferred from 1994, with as much courageous imagination, new vocabulary and wild dreams as possible.
and so this us comes
heartstained and upwards
the us comes
with cataclysmic breath
in the mouthclose sound of birds
with care we break the frames
and our bodies
read: those with less power
our tongues begin to feel: the destitute
our neck hairs rise:
when on flattened cartons a fallen man turns over
slip: at the maiming of a trampled body’s light
this us are the beggars
this us are the poor
this us live intact and with honour
unwon we must become
with wrists that bravely pile up stars
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Read some tweets sent out during Krog’s speech:.
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View some photos from the event:
- Die sterre sê tsau: /Xam-gedigte van Diä!kwain, Kweiten-ta-//ken, /A!kúnta, /Han#kass’o en //Kabbo edited by Antjie Krog
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Alert! Jacob Dlamini and Damon Galgut were announced as the winners of the 2015 Sunday Times Literary Awards at a gala dinner at Summer Place in Sandton this evening.
Dlamini received the Alan Paton Award for his book Askari: A Story of Collaboration and Betrayal in the Anti-Apartheid Struggle (Jacana Media).
Ben Williams, Sunday Times books editor and founder of Book LIVE, said: “The judges called it an exceptionally brave, groundbreaking book, learned without being ponderous, with an insistent moral compass.”
Jonny Steinberg received an honourable mention from the judges for his book, A Man of Good Hope.
Galgut was awarded the Barry Ronge Fiction Prize for his novel, Arctic Summer. “The judges found the novel to be a brilliant evocation of the life of EM Forster, from an author writing at the height of his powers,” Williams said.
The awards celebrate the best of South African fiction and non-fiction writing, and this year the prize money was increased to R100 000 each.
“The entries for this year’s Sunday Times Literary Awards were exceptionally strong, presenting our judges with a particularly tough challenge in choosing winners,” Williams said.
“There was decidedly more wheat than chaff to sort, but in the end, we have two standout books that will shape our literary conversation for years to come.”
Last year’s Alan Paton Award winner was Max du Preez for his book A Rumour of Spring: South Africa after 20 Years of Democracy, published by Zebra Press, while debut novelist Claire Robertson took the Fiction Prize for The Spiral House, published by Umuzi.
2015 Barry Ronge Fiction Prize shortlist:
2015 Alan Paton Award shortlist:
Press Release: Embargo 27 June 2015, 10pm
JACOB DLAMINI AND DAMON GALGUT WIN TOP HONOURS AT SUNDAY TIMES LITERARY AWARDS
Author, political correspondent and commentator Jacob Dlamini and acclaimed fiction writer Damon Galgut were awarded top honours at the 2015 Sunday Times Literary Awards, a dinner held at Summer Place in Sandton on 27 June.
Dlamini received the prestigious Alan Paton Award for his book Askari: A Story of Collaboration and Betrayal in the Anti-Apartheid Struggle (Jacana Media), a considered examination of South Africa after 20 years of democracy. Ben Williams, Sunday Times books editor, said: “The judges called it an exceptionally brave, groundbreaking book, learned without being ponderous, with an insistent moral compass.”
Galgut was awarded the Barry Ronge Fiction Prize for his novel, Arctic Summer. Of the book, Williams said: “The judges found the novel to be a brilliant evocation of the life of EM Forster, from an author writing at the height of his powers.”
The awards celebrate the best of South African fiction and non-fiction writing from the previous year. Each winner receives R100 000.
Williams concluded: “The entries for this year’s Sunday Times Literary Awards were exceptionally strong, presenting our judges with a particularly tough challenge in choosing winners. There was decidedly more wheat than chaff to sort, but in the end, we have two standout books that will shape our literary conversation for years to come.”
View some photos from the event: