Thirteen novels have been longlisted for the Man Booker International Prize of 2019.
This prize celebrates the finest works of fiction translated into English from around the world, and is not to be confused with the Man Booker Prize which is awarded for fiction originally published in English.
The international prize is awarded every year for a single book, which is published in Britain and Ireland after translation. Short-story collections as well as novels are eligible. Continue reading
Review: Vivien Horler
Land of My Ancestors, by Botlhale Tema (Penguin Books)
The cover picture features Botlhale Tema’s grandparents Stephanus and Elisa Moloto, with their daughters Bernice, Christina and Madira and their nephew William Moloto in the 1920s.
If you should visit the Pilanesberg National Park near Sun City, you might come across an old monument and a newer memorial stone that hints at an almost forgotten history.
They are in the shade of an ancient wild olive tree under whose branches a small Dutch Reformed congregation used to hold their services until they built a little church. Today the church and associated cottages are gone, and the surrounding land is as empty as it was when the first missionary arrived on what had been the farm Welgeval.
In Land of My Ancestors Dr Botlhale Tema tells the extraordinary story of Welgeval, the origins of the people who lived and farmed there for more than a century, and how they lost the village in 1980 when the government of Bophuthatswana incorporated the land into the Pilanesberg National Park.
Tema says she grew up grew up happy. As a child every weekend she and her family would travel back to Welgeval, where she knew everyone and was related to nine out of 10 people she encountered. Continue reading
spotted this BBC clip about Roald Dahl’s writing habits. It is just wonderful.Review: Archie Henderson
Steinheist, by Rob Rose (Tafelberg)
Rob Rose can read a googly as well as he can a balance sheet, especially the leg-spinner’s wrong ’un out of the back of the bowler’s hand, or the crooked accountant’s one trying to disguise a fraud.
It’s his skill in deciphering company figures rather than spinning balls on the cricket pitch (where he captains and opens the batting for his team) that Rose brings to bear in this remarkably entertaining book. If you thought balance sheets and accounting practices were boring, Steinheist will change your opinion.
Rose brings another, vital, element to his story of Markus Jooste and the biggest case of white-collar chicanery in South African history: his dogged reporting skills. Hell, he even interviewed the Hermanus whale crier to get a sense of Skelm Markus. Continue reading
Review: Vivien Horler
Unsheltered, by Barbara Kingsolver (faber & faber)
It’s hard to imagine a world in which belief in Darwin’s theories was considered to be heresy, and yet it is said that around a third of Americans still reject them today (the same research, reported in January 2015 by the Pew Research Centre in Washington DC, found that half the population did not believe in human-generated climate change either).
Fans of Barbara Kingsolver’s novels and other writing will know she is an earth warrior, unashamed to use her fiction as a vehicle in which to drive her views on the dangers of human profligacy and ignorance.
Her last novel, Flight Behaviour, about the plight of migrating butterflies, or Prodigal Summer, about the unhappy interface between small-time farmers and coyotes (in the South African context read sheep farmers and leopards and/or caracals) both have strong moral lessons. Continue reading
Review: Vivien Horler
Your People will be My People – the Ruth Khama Story, by Sue Grant-Marshall (Protea Book House)
The story of the marriage of Seretse Khama, a Bechuana chief in waiting, and Lloyds of London clerk Ruth Williams, has been told many times, most recently in the film A United Kingdom which was released in South Africa in 2016.
Not only was Ruth’s father vehemently opposed to the wedding, which took place in 1948 in a London very different from the multicultural city of today, so were Khama’s uncle Tshekedi, regent of the powerful Bamangwato tribe, and the British government.
But one of the major themes of this compelling biography of Lady Khama, as she eventually became, was the wily behind-the-scenes involvement of the South African government in the entire affair. And it doesn’t emerge with honour.
In the late 1800s Bechuanaland, Basutholand and Swaziland, as they were then known, feared amalgamation into what became the Union of South Africa, and sent representatives to London to ask Queen Victoria to protect them from this fate. She agreed, and as a result they became known as British Protectorates.
But as late as the 1950s South Africa was still hoping to absorb the protectorates. And naturally the last thing DF Malan’s government wanted was to deal with a territory where the chief of the most powerful tribal grouping was married to a white woman.
South Africa was helped in its campaign by Sir Evelyn Baring, who was not only Britain’s high commissioner to South Africa, but also represented Britain in the protectorates. Baring played a major role in persuading the British government to do everything possible to prevent the marriage, including telling the vicar on the morning of the intended marriage that he was not free to conduct the ceremony.
The couple were eventually married in a registry office a couple of days later, leading to consternation in Britain, Bechuanaland and South Africa. The Bamangwato people eventually accepted the marriage, but South Africa did everything possible to lobby Britain to prevent the Khamas returning to the territory, and at one point the British government banned them from the protectorate for life. Later they were allowed to return, on condition that Khama renounced his claim to the chieftainship for himself and his heirs.
Taking their lead from the British government view of the marriage, many British officials working in Bechuanaland shunned the Khamas socially. This was not a major hardship for Seretse, but was tough on Ruth who had exchanged a busy life in London for a large dusty village which had none of the amenities she was used to and to whose people she was unable to speak because of the language barrier.
Behind South Africa’s attitude, the British government was told, was the fact “the very existence of white settlement in these territories depended, in view of the numerical inferiority and defencelessness of the white population, upon the principle that the native mind regarded the white woman as inviolable”.
The Transvaler wrote in a leading article that the British government “must know that there is no room or role for a native with a white wife and coloured child in the territories surrounding the Union”.
Seretse questioned whether the British government “was prepared to sacrifice the friendship of 60 million Africans for the doubtful friendship of Union Prime Minister Dr Malan”, but it was clear that in fact the British government was. This was partly due to the fact Britain very much did not want South Africa, her staunch ally in the recent World War II, to leave the Commonwealth, and partly to the strong personal relationship between Winston Churchill and Jan Smuts.
It was a shameful episode for all concerned – except the couple at the centre of the storm who behaved throughout with courage and grace. And as we know, the story eventually had a happy ending, with Seretse becoming the first president of an independent Botswana, and Ruth the country’s beloved first lady
Sue Grant-Marshall, a former reporter with the Cape Argus, grew up partly in Bechuanaland where her father, Peter Cardross, was a district commissioner. He worked in the Khama’s home village of Serowe, among other places, and became friends with the Khamas.
This gave Grant-Marshall the access to Ruth for the interviews on which much of this book is based. It was finished around 1984, and then languished for want of a publisher. Some felt the story was too romantic, others too political, and one London publisher told her no one was interested anyway.
But now Protea Books has published it and it is well worth reading, not only for the romance and the politics, but also for a glimpse into the history of the time.
Grant-Marshall says of Seretse: “I thought he was incredible, with a wonderful sense of humour, no bitterness and a gorgeous personality.
“But I was much closer to Ruth, especially after Seretse died. She became like a second mother to me. She had a sharp wit, was incredibly intelligent, and as a young woman was beautiful. And when I think of her, the word that comes to mind is courage.”
Sadly, Ruth did not lived to see the book’s publication as she died in 2002. But Grant-Marshall is “over the moon” that her work has finally been recognised, and feels that she has been true to the passion that both she and Ruth put into it.
Reviewer: Archie Henderson
South Africans versus Rommel: The Untold Story of the Desert War in World War II by David Brock Katz (Jonathan Ball)
Erwin Rommel gets more play in the title than in the book itself. That’s because David Katz’s original publisher, the American group Stackpole, which specialises in military books, believes that Rommel sells, just as Montgomery does, or Patton.
Stackpole might be right and now Jonathan Ball has published a paperback version that is likely to do well on the South African market. Katz’s book lives up to the first part of its title in drama and detail, of which there are plenty of both.
To be flippant for a moment about a serious book, if the title sounds a bit like a sports fixture, Rommel wins two-nil. His Panzer Army destroyed a South African brigade during the battles around Sidi Rezegh in Libya in the northern winter of 1941, then he captured an entire South African division at Tobruk six months later. The two events were among the greatest three disasters suffered by South African soldiers, Delville Wood in World War 1 being the other. Continue reading
Reviewer: Archie Henderson
The House of Islam: A Global History by Ed Husain (Bloomsbury)
Islam often gets a bad press. Isis, Al Qaeda, Hamas and other terror groups, murderous dictators such Muammar Gaddafi, Sadam Hussein and Bashar al-Asad are to blame. All have exploited a benign religion for vicious sectarian purposes, but are they any worse than bigots and extremists of Christianity, Hinduism and, of all people, lately the Buddhists of Myanmar?
We live among Muslims, enjoy their food and hospitality, respect their beliefs and think we understand them. Maybe we don’t, and this is where Mohammed (Ed) Husain can help.
Husain is the kind of person we seldom hear about, a liberal Muslim. Once a committed Salafist, he later became a Sufist and brilliantly explains the difference between these two strands of Islam in this book.
Salafism is the equivalent of the religious bigot – the puritanical Muslim and part of an Islamic faction supported by Saudi Arabian proselytisers and funded by the kingdom’s oil riches. Husain, in his interpretation of the Shi’ite-Sunni split in Islam, helps explain just how hypocritical the West – and especially the US – is about Muslims; the murder of Jamal Khashoggi being only the most recent example. It’s all right to bomb one Muslim country while excusing gross human-rights violations in another.
The book helps us understand what is happening in the world’s most recent forgotten war, the one in Yemen, and the conflict between Jews and Palestinians over Israel without falling for both sides’ propaganda.
Husain, who has embraced Sufism, which he estimates to be the faith and culture of 80% of Muslims in a world population of almost two billion, puts the anger of the other 20% down to centuries of indignity suffered by Muslim people, especially those in the Arab world.
Since the demise of European imperialism, however, there is a chance of a renaissance, according to Husein – even an accommodation with Israel. For that to happen, Muslims need to remember what it means to live and coexist in a free world – much as they did in the days of Mohammed 1 400 years ago.
There is a glowing blurb on the cover of the book I read. It’s from Peter Frankopan, author of The Silk Roads, a history of the world from a Persian perspective. “This should be compulsory reading,” says Frankopan and for once it’s a valid endorsement.
Review: Vivien Horler
Erebus – the story of a ship, by Michael Palin (Hutchinson)
Three years ago a 68 870 ton cruise ship, the Crystal Serenity, sailed through the icy waters of the almost mythical Northwest Passage.
For well over a century Europeans had hoped to discover a route through Canada’s Arctic archipelago which would link the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, and provide a shortcut to access trade with the Far East.
Scores of sailors and explorers, many of them British, died in the efforts to find what was the inpenetrable ice-choked passage.
Now, thanks to global warming, the passage is open to cruise liners carrying more than a thousand passengers. Continue reading
There Goes English Teacher – a memoir, by Karin Cronje (Modjaji Books)
VIVIEN HORLER
Karin Cronje with her book.
Anecdotally it would seem that hundreds of young South Africans have gone to South-east Asia to teach English. The money is good, prices are cheap, and the social life with South Africans and other expatriates is fun.
Karin Cronje did it too, but she was 49, she went to a small village in South Korea where virtually no one spoke English – her Korean was non-existent – and there were few expatriates with whom to bond socially.
As for making friends with Koreans, that was a pretty hopeless task. “It’s just too foreign. The society is fundamentally different from the way we are. They won’t let you in, you will forever be this outsider to whom they are mostly very polite, and that’s it.”
Cronje had planned to stay in Korea until what she calls her decrepitude, building up her pension, saving money to put her son through his architecture degree and also raising money for her former domestic worker’s pension. “I was going to make loads of money and spend a substantial chunk of my life there, like 15 years or so.”
She discovered that while the money was good for young people who had just finished their studies and needed to pay off loans, it wasn’t really enough for a woman entering her 50s who had more extensive goals.
In fact she stayed for just two years, returning to South Africa in time for the publication of her second Afrikaans novel Alles mooi weer.
“There’s a line in English Teacher that says you have to go home before home isn’t home any more. I saw expatriates in Korea who had completely lost touch, with home and with themselves. They never settle there properly, and they become floaters. One woman who had been in Korea for five years summed up the danger – she said she was not at home in her own country any more, and she was certainly not at home in Korea.”
One of the aims Cronje wanted to achieve in Korea was to rewrite Alles mooi weer, whose protagonist, Hilette, was so obnoxious even Cronje couldn’t stand her.
“It’s one thing to have an anti-hero – I enjoy anti-heroes more than beautiful heroes – but I had such a deep hatred for Hilette. Every negative feeling I had about myself and my culture I projected on to Hilette, and I thought going away would help me change the tone of that woman. In that sense Korea was a success story because I started to have some empathy with her – I must have been feeling more at ease with aspects of myself.”
And the book, when it appeared, was critically acclaimed, winning the Jan Rabie / Rapport prize.
There were, says Cronje, beautiful moments in Korea. She became close to Dae-ho who taught meditation and with whom she connected on a spiritual level: “Without that man, that gentle man, I don’t know how I would have survived.” She also made a couple of Korean friends.
But the work wasn’t satisfactory. Her first job was at a private after-care centre for children whose parents were paying a premium for them to learn English, and the children would be there till all hours of the night after a full day at government schools. There was far too much emphasis on rote learning and ticking off boxes, and too little on really learning to speak English.
Her second job was at university which was better, but a she was unnerved by what she calls the cesspool of gossip among the expats. As a result of trying not to stand out like a sore thumb among the tiny and reserved Koreans, and not getting involved in expat politics, Cronje increasingly isolated herself and shut herself down.
She returned home to Cape Town and had to find somewhere to live as she had tenants in her Newlands home. Then followed an unsettling period staying with various friends, trying to find her scattered boxes, and coping with some of the dodgy friends her son Marko had made in her absence.
She had changed, but her friends hadn’t and relationships suffered. She worried about money, about getting older, about her relationship with Marko, and whether she would ever have sex again. One night, while staying in her friend Dorrian’s cottage, she had a meltdown. Her description sounds like a nervous breakdown but Cronje says no, it was a breakthrough.
“There had been the two years in Korea where I had to be silent and make myself small. Then back here people messed me over while I was trying to fit in and not connecting, making me not me, and on top of all that being exhausted. And then that night in Dorrian’s cottage I thought, f*** that! I found my voice again. That’s what broke through.”
After years of staying in other’s people’s houses, renting here and there, today Cronje lives in a light, bright house she has bought in Simon’s Town with sweeping views of False Bay. Marko is married to a wonderful woman and Cronje now has two small grandchildren. Life is looking good.
There Goes English Teacher is both highly readable and brave. Not many of us would lay ourselves open the way Cronje has. But she has no regrets.
“I was happy to reveal the Korean experiences, even though I was writing about personal and intimate things. But the stuff I wrote about life after coming back – that gave me sleepless nights.
“However, the worst thing that can happen for me is self-censorship. If I start censoring myself then I don’t want to live any more. I expect the world to do that, but bloody hell, if I start doing that to myself, it’s like cutting out my tongue.”