These are among the books that landed on my desk in October. The Killing Stones by Ann Cleeves is among Exclusive Books’s top reads for October. Some of these books will be reviewed in full later. – Vivien Horler

Hope Arising – The story of SA’s Joule electric vehicle, and why it still matters, by Gerhard Swart (Quickfox)

Some years ago a neighbour had a sticker on the rear window of his bakkie reading: “I’d rather be driving a Joule.”

What’s a Joule, I wanted to know. It was an SA-developed electric car, he told me. He worked for the company.

It showed fantastic potential and promise, and yet in 2012 the project was halted.

Author and engineer Gerhard Swart was a co-founder of the project and lead engineer. In his career he contributed to the development of the Rooivalk attack helicopter and was the systems engineer behind the Southern African Large Telescope SALT.

In this book he describes the struggles, the innovations, the triumphs and the setbacks that led to the development and then the abandonment of the Joule project.

Of the book, Professor Wikus van Niekerk, dean of engineering at Stellenbosch University, says: “It’s a compelling and honest read that reveals the highs and lows of one of SA’s most daring engineering ventures. More than that, it’s a powerful reminder of what SA-trained engineers are capable of when given the chance.”

Fifteen Colonial Thefts – A guide to looted African heritage in museums, edited by Sela K Adjei and Yann LeGall (Pluto Press)

The Elgin Marbles, the Benin Bronzes – and thousands more artefacts were looted, stolen and sold to colonial powers. In many cases they are still displayed in the museums of Europe and the United States.

This volume is a collection of essays on 15 items that explore the history of colonial violence in Africa, all looted at the height of the imperial era and brought to first world museums. In most cases – although not all: the return of the remains of Saartjie Baartman from France being an example – there is stern resistance to their repatriation.

And yet usually the items have deep spiritual and cultural significance in their native lands.

One of the essays is a powerful piece by Nii Kwate Owoo from Ghana’s Gold Coast who went to London in the 1960s to study film.. A visit to the Africa section of the British Museum gave him an idea of the subject of his graduation film.

The Africa section was housed in “a huge room, filled with glass vitrines from the ground to the ceiling. I was amazed, because for the first time in my life I realised the amount of material that had been taken away, including exceptional pieces of Asante regalia… I had never seen these things before; some of them were very sacred cultural assets, works of art created by our ancestors that had only been meant for religious veneration in sacred shrines, not for public exhibition.”

He made his film, You Hide Me, in 1970, which resurfaced in 2020 after his son, living in the US shortly after the murder of George Floyd, persuaded his dad to let it be shown at the BlackStar Film Festival in Philadelphia. Later it won best short documentary at the 2020 Paris Short Film Festival.

The screening of the film has sparked interest in Ghana in the potential return of Asante artefacts to the country. Nii Owoo now wants his film “decolonised from the English language” so that it can be shown in Ghanaian languages to spark debates on the issue, and then in versions “in Swahili, Yoruba, Igbo, isiZulu, IsiXhosa… This is my vision for the future”.

The Killing Stones – The return of Jimmy Perez, by Anne Cleeves (Macmillan)

Yay, a new Jimmy Perez novel!

If you haven’t read Jimmy Perez detective fiction before, you’re in for a treat. Or you might know that if you’ve seen the TV series Shetland.

Cleeves is prolific, what with her Shetland series, her Vera series and her newer Two Rivers series, set in Devon. The Vera and Shetland series are my favourites.

Not sure if I’ve missed something, but Jimmy Perez is now living with Willow, their four-year-old son and another baby on the way, in the Orkneys – an island archipelago a bit closer to the Scottish mainland than the Shetlands.

It’s December and the weather is wild. Archie Stout is out in it, shouting, knowing his words can’t be heard above the wind. He’s wet and windblown, and looking forward to joining his mates in the Pierowall Hotel bar – he’s already an hour late.

Archie is worried about a problem, and resolves to discuss it with Perez. And then a familiar figure emerges out of the gloom, swathed in a waterproof. “Ah,” Archie says. “So it’s you.”

Hours later Archie’s body is found, bludgeoned to death with a Neolithic stone bearing ancient inscriptions. The local community is shocked.

But fear not: Jimmy Perez is on the case.

Letters from Elena, by Anne Hamilton (Legend Press)

As children in an English village, April and Elena are inseparable. One day, they vow, when they are grown up, they will travel together to Cyprus, the island where Elena’s family is from.

But long before that, in 1974, Elena and her family disappear. apparently back to the now war-torn island. April is devastated.

Elena was good at writing, but never writes her friend a letter.

Except that it turns out she did write – letters to April and her former classmates and posted to their teacher.

For reasons which I haven’t discovered yet, the teacher passes them on only years later at a tough time in April’s life, when both her parents have just died and she and her long-term boyfriend have split up.

And suddenly April decides now is the time to visit Cyprus, and perhaps find out what happened to Elena.

She falls in with a group of hospitable Greeks, and also meets Red, an Irishman with whom she feels an instant connection – but there are complications there.

And that’s as far as I’ve got, but I certainly plan to go on reading.

Healing the Mother Wound – A guide that will change your life, by Moshitadi Lehlomela (Tafelberg)

Moshitadi Lehlomela wrote a book called The Girl who Survived her Mother, which I have not read, but I understand describes a toxic childhood.

In her introduction to this, a self-help book, she says she was conceived when her older brother was a little older than a year.

“Pregnant again while still caring for an infant, her husband became more and more distant, her mother-in-law abusive, and poverty tightened its grip as she mourned the slow but imminent death of her dreams.”

Even as a foetus, Lehlomela says she could sense the chaos on the outside.

“So by the time I was earthside, I had already sucked my thumb thin and dry.” She continued this habit into adulthood.

(I too sucked my thumb, until I was 11, but the only blame I placed on my parents for this was that they never offered me – deeply unfashionable at the time – a dummy).

Her mother was wrathful, mercurial, depressed, physically and verbally abusive. “…and so by the age of six I began to self-protect by turning away from my mother, having few expectations of her and actively dissociating from my environment”.

Healing the Mother Wound is part sequel to her first book, part workbook. She has tables with tick boxes: “Were you abused in any of the ways below: Constant yelling? Constant rage: Hatred? Humiliation? Emotional incest? Scapegoating? Favouritism” and so on.

I don’t think I, thank God, need this book, but there are many who may.

These are among the books that landed on my desk in September. Some will be reviewed in full later. Two of them – Wolf Hour by Jo Nesbo, and One Night in Paris by Nina George – are among Exclusive Books’ top reads for the month. – Vivien Horler

Malema: Money. Power. Patronage, by Micah Reddy and Pauli van Wyk (Tafelberg)

The authors, whose investigating journalistic credentials are impeccable, proclaim in the first line of their prologue that this is not a biography of Julius Malema.

In fact, after writing a number of what they call unflattering articles about the Economic Freedom Fighters, amaBhungane Centre for Investigative Journalism (Micah Reddy) and Daily Maverick (Pauli van Wyk) were banned from covering its events. The writers were labelled “agents of Stratcom”.

The authors have not interviewed Malema, and people who are close to him won’t speak to them. However, they have amassed enough information to fill more than 300 pages, and it looks like pretty damning stuff.

In the prologue they tell one brief story as an example of how the EFF “has been moulded around private interests”.

Malema’s friend and benefactor Matome Hlabioa became ill with cancer and died in May 2015. While he was being treated, Malema offered Hlabioa’s wife, Marubini, an EFF parliamentary seat so she could access the government medical aid.

“She had no political experiences and declined the offer, but it shows how Malema views the EFF as his own fiefdom – a vehicle for dispensing patronage. A seat in parliament with a salary of R1million and various perks became a means of honouring his personal obligations to the widow of his deceased friend.”

Yoh. And that’s almost certainly the least of it.

Daily Glimmers: The art of finding tiny joys every day of the year, by Bridget McNulty (Penguin)

If you find embedded corruption and the shenanigans of the likes of Julius Malema and others depressing, Glimmers might just provide an antidote.

Bridget McNulty is the co-founder of Sweet Life, SA’s largest online diabetes community. She defines “glimmers” as little slices of joy, tiny noticings, specific to you, that cheer you up.

She writes: “The concept is simple: instead of waiting for The Next Big Thing to make you happy – a holiday, a life partner, a promotion, a child – you look out for three-second moments in your everyday life that make you smile.”

Joy isn’t happiness or contentment – it’s accessible even in the darkest moments, if you’re up to looking for it.

The book will tell you how to notice glimmers “…it’s a practical, useful way to start feeling better about your life, no matter what it looks like right now”.

Here are a handful of glimmers: a cutting from a friend’s garden, the burble of a stream, writing with a lovely pen, turning the music up loud, a hug, an absorbing book, taking a happy dog for a walk on the beach…

The Invisible Boy from Bramble Way, by Anwar McKay (Southern Right Publishers)

You might not have heard of Anwar McKay, who grew up in Bonteheuwel, but you’ve probably heard of his husband, the comedian Marc Lottering.

McKay writes that he was a 12-year-old, effeminate Muslim boy from working-class Bontehewel, living in a hate-filled Calvinistic apartheid South Africa.

In a foreword, journalist and writer Marianne Thamm asks: “How does a sensitive and talented boy find a way through a ruthlessly macho world, populated by men who might be gang members, or inclined to beat up or taunt anyone viewed as effeminate?”

By becoming invisible, that’s how.

But McKay certainly hasn’t stayed invisible. He is now a distinguished theatre producer and director, and credits his mother, Tyra, who gave him unconditional love, and Lottering, “who loved and adored me when I felt most unlovable and invisible”.

Love and courage are behind this remarkable story of growing up different on the Cape Flats.

One Night in Paris, by Nina George (Michael Joseph)

Claire Cousteau is a French biologist with what appears to be a wonderful family life. But she has become increasingly frustrated by her marriage, and the fact her husband routinely has affairs.

So she starts having affairs too – well, casual sexual encounters with strangers.

Leaving a hotel room one afternoon, she comes across a young hotel cleaner, a woman, singing the Jacques Brel song Ne me quitte pas. The woman has a pierced eyebrow and tattoos on her left arm.

But what strikes Claire is the woman’s “old dark gaze out of young eyes”. Claire feels suddenly exposed, as though the cleaner knows exactly what she’s been doing. She resists the compulsion to say: “Because he looked at me, do you understand? Because he looked at me the whole time and didn’t close his eyes.”

The women stare at each other, and eventually turn away.

Now it’s the beginning of the holidays and Claire and her family are off to Breton. Her son asks her if he can bring his new girlfriend.

Of course says Claire. And the girlfriend turns out to be the young hotel cleaner.

“Sensual, provocative, and stirring, One Night in Paris is a story of becoming who you were meant to be by breaking apart things you’ve always known,” the cover tells us.

Wolf Hour, by Jo Nesbo (Harvill Secker)

It’s September 2022 and Holger Rudi arrives in Minneapolis from Oslo to do research on the true crime novel – The Minneapolis Avenger – he’s writing. True crime is the hottest genre in the book market right now, he muses on the drive in from the airport. People just can’t get enough of stories about bloody and preferably spectacular murders.

He’s interested in a series of killings that took place in the city in 2016. They started with the shooting of a small-time crook in the streets, and it seems the sniper was a lone wolf.

A detective called Bob Oz is assigned to the case when the shooter strikes again. The authorities believe this second victim won’t be the last.

And they’re right.

The cover blub tells us: “Wolf Hour is a gritty standalone thriller packed with unexpected twists, dark secrets and bubbling personal and political tension, from the king of the cliffhanger.”

Hell of a Country, by David Cornwell (Kwela)

Talking of true crime stories, here is one. In 1974 a young woman called Marlene Lehnberg, who lived in a boarding house in Rondebosch, instigated and took part in the murder of her lover’s wife, a woman called Susanna Magdalena van der Linde.

It became the famous Scissors Murder case. This book is a fictionalised version.

Lehnberg, who was 18 at the time, was convicted and sentenced to death, along with her co-accused, an amputee called Marthinus Choegoe, who was supposed to carry out the murder but chickened out several times.

Eventually Lehnberg and Choegoe went into the Van der Linde house. Lehnberg pistol-whipped Van der Linde, who fell down. Choegoe then stabbed her to death with a pair of her own scissors.

Both Lehnberg and Choegoe’s death sentences were remitted.

I’m familiar with this story because about three or four weeks before the murder I met Lehnberg, by chance, in her boarding house, where my boyfriend’s brother was staying.

I was astonished by her, as she leaned against the desk in the room, filing her nails and telling us she wished her boss-lover’s wife would just drop dead. “I told him, and I meant it.”

She also said she was about to leave Cape Town for Joburg in her car: “I got a Anglia and it goes, hey!”

Then the murder story broke – and the victim was Lhenberg’s lover’s wife.

We’ll see how this book goes.