Book review: When God was a Rabbit

It is the title of this book that grabs your attention, and conveys the quirky innocence and ethereal energy of this tale.


It is these qualities that are the best aspects of When God was a Rabbit. The writing is especially beautiful, unique and enjoyable within and of itself.

But here in lies the problem. It is almost as if Sarah Winman wrote this book so that she could write, not because she had a story to tell. The book is one long ‘series of unfortunate events’ that seem to be written into the narrative only so that the author could explore her writing talent. Events and characters are beautifully described, but they seem to pile up and multiply just so that there is some kind of vague narrative and shell in which to place Winman’s beautiful words.

Indeed, one of the crucial moments of the book is mentioned in a short sentence and is never fully explained, leaving me frustrated at why Winman chose that event on which to craft her story. Other moments and characters also appear out of nowhere, then suddenly become important, and are more ‘hooks’ to hang the story on.

But despite all this, the book is still an enjoyable read that I recommend. It is a winding tale of growing up, and certainly explores ‘love in all its forms.’ Its best aspect is the writing itself, as well as a wonderful exploration on the nature of childhood. Winman manages to convey the concoction of innocence, fear, confusion and joy of being a child, which provides a powerful perspective of the world.

The book tells the story of Elly as she grows up, and her relationships with family and friends. A theme of ‘lost and found’ prevails, as Elly experiences both love and loss in her life and relationships. Her brother Joe, her best friend Jenny Penny, and her rabbit, called ‘god’, are colourful characters that provide the most weight and importance to the story. The book is divided into two parts – childhood and adulthood, which also gives it a little more structure.

The humour, intelligence, pain and learning reflected in the childhood narrative makes it the better half. It conveys so much about the innocence and intelligence of children, which I feel is the most important aspect of the book. Once we understand our childhood selves, we can look towards the future. Only where we know where we have come from can we know where we are going.

Book review: To the End of the Land

What does war mean, really? Renowned Israeli author David Grossman cuts to the core of what conflict really means for people; and delivers a universal, searing and powerful anti-war novel like no other.


Despite it being set in Israel, Grossman’s story could apply to any individual, family or nation that experiences the daily reality of conflict, war or terrorism. And at the same time, it is a searing study of his own society - of a country and its peoples who carry the traumas, dreams and fears of their nations, and who have to deal with the conflict reaching into the core of their lives. Portraying both a universal story and yet one that is so particular to Israel is just the first of one of Grossman’s many achievements in this novel.

To the End of the Land tells the story of Ora, whose son Ofer decides to return to the army instead of hiking with her in the north of the country, which was supposed to be their celebration to mark the end of his military service. Ora has a deep and instinctive fear that Ofer will die in this new operation, and spontaneously decides to go on the hike and avoid all forms of communication. She feels that if she runs away, the 'informers' will not be able to tell her if Ofer dies, and that he therefore cannot die.

Ora invites her old friend Avram to join her on the hike. If anything, Avram epitomises the story – a genius and true lover of life; he was captured as a POW, tortured and left for dead by the Egyptians in the 1973 Yom Kippur War, and is now a shadow of a human being. He symbolises the true horror of war – how it destroys love, family and the body and soul of a human being.

As they hike, Ora delves into the past, her history with Avram and her husband Ilan, and her sons, Ofer and Adam. The love triangle between Avram, Ilan and Ora, and the sons that were conceived by each man, create a powerful narrative. But it is Ora’s description of the minutiae of family life (as if saying it all will render her sons alive and safe) that is the true genius of this story. Grossman portrays family life in the most fascinating, painstaking and realistic narrative, following his theory of how the world doesn’t change in government halls and offices, but rather in the homes and interactions of families. And as Grossman builds and creates the intricate portrait of this family, he demonstrates how war and conflict can destroy it all – how it can invade and break down our most intimate spaces and what is most precious to us. This is the true tragedy of war, and it is what makes this novel a poignant, powerful and painful portrayal of war – and a classic anti-war novel that will stand the test of time.

The importance of land in the book is also a theme of incredible importance, as the land almost takes on a personable role as a character in the story. Indeed, as land is the central facet of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and of so many other wars, its central role in the story highlights what a powerful place it holds in these narratives - but also how it is something separate, that should not govern human behaviour or choices.

Finally, the fact that Grossman’s son, Uri, was killed in the second Lebanon war at the time of writing this book gives the story an even more searing reality – as if that pain is woven between the words on the page. It is this tragedy that delivers the heart of Grossman’s message – that war destroys people, family, individuals and the very inner light of human beings. It is this message that will make To the End of the Land a classic piece of literature that could (hopefully) change the way we see war in the future.

Read more about the book and Grossman here: http://nyr.kr/aWEWqR

The elements of awakening

From Macbeth to Lord of the Flies, writers over the ages have examined the power of nature to awaken the animal aspect in mankind. Sleeper’s Wake by Alistair Morgan places itself within this conversation, yet takes the discussion further, looking at the power of nature to help humanity heal

Sleeper’s Wake tells the story of a man who has lost everything, beginning at the point where he wakes from a coma to be told that his wife and daughter have been killed in a car accident, and he was the driver.

Retreating to Nature’s Valley near Plettenberg Bay to recover, we begin a journey with him that unwraps layers of memories; echoed by an almost undetectable shedding of human norms, boundaries and ethical codes.

This process speeds up when John encounters a family who is also in the valley to recover after a violent trauma, which emerges from a profoundly South African context.

As John and the family’s lives collide, their moral restrictions begin to unravel until the novel hurtles towards a shocking and shattering denouement.

Morgan’s novel almost enters into a conversation with Lord of the Flies, with strong references to the classic. A walk to a mountain called Pig’s Head (which really does exist in Nature’s Valley), heralds a vital moment of moral rebellion that hints strongly at Golding’s narrative. Later, an encounter with baboons brings the question to its climax, as the boundary between man and beast blurs completely.

Morgan also engages with historical moments that question where man ends and nature begins. The title of his novel refers to when John is thinking about the trauma that has happened to the family he meets; and says how men are ‘sleepers’ that all have an animal instinct that can be awakened.

The theory comes from historian Christopher Browning’s study Battalion 101, which looks at the behaviour of men in the Holocaust; and where he ultimately concludes that it is ordinary men who can commit terrible deeds.

However, Morgan’s novel takes the discussion one step further, demonstrating that nature can bring out the worst in man, but that it is also where he will be able to heal. For it is only when man acknowledges that tragedy and joy is the rhythm of the natural life cycle that he can make peace with his past. Just as we sleep and awake, and day follows night, so is our time in this world. Thus, Sleeper’s Wake is a profound study of man at his essence; and his relationship to the earth that we live on.

South Africa is a society that encounters excessive trauma and violence; and yet has an abundance of nature and beauty. As these forces pull South Africans in two directions (“Should I stay or should I go?”), Sleeper’s Wake is vital reading for those looking for a brave and deep discussion on the nature of man, alive and awake in this environment.

A million miles from mediocre

The “chick-lit” genre is a small industry in South Africa, and certainly has room to grow. However, with the plethora of Marianne Keyes books filling the shelves of Exclusives, it would be easy for SA authors to follow her formula down to every pun and plot. Instead, Paige Nick has written a fresh, nuanced novel that could pioneer the way for “chick-lit” in South Africa - and beyond

This is not to say that Marianne Keyes should not be an inspiration for an author writing in the genre. However, I feel that Nick has taken the best of what Keyes has to offer, and makes a clear distinction to leave out the rest.

For example, Keyes is known for her playful puns and frothy phrases, which have become a hallmark of chick-lit. Nick definitely uses these, and her humour is equally enjoyable and entertaining. However, she keeps the puns in check and never takes them to the extreme that Keyes does. This means that they pepper the story with entertaining and clever exclamations, but they do not become the body of the text, as they tend to in Keyes’ books. Most importantly, this strategy allows for Nicks’ writing to shine through and flow easily - which simply takes the book to another level.

Further, by avoiding the extreme level of word tricks and puns in Keyes’ books means that the narrative of A Million Miles from Normal is able to develop into a much stronger storyline, and that the plot is able to emerge more clearly. On this note, the plot is much more engaging and in-depth than I expected from a chick-lit novel (perhaps my prejudices stand to be corrected!).

A Million Miles from Normal tells the story of Rachel Marcus, a nice Jewish girl and copywriter from Johannesburg, who escapes a humiliating retrenchment and broken engagement by going to New York City. There, she meets a range of quirky characters and fabulous friends, experiences dating disasters, kills cockroaches and searches endlessly for Five Roses Tea.

The tale goes much deeper than this – the plot is intricate and the characters are intriguing. Something I also found enjoyable was that Nick delves into the copywriting and advertising industry, which adds even more interest to the story. Finally, one of the best aspects of the novel is that we are kept in suspense literally until the very last word - a rare feat in any book, never mind chick-lit. Nick must be commended for weaving a plot that it keeps the reader in suspense until the very end.

The only criticism I have of the book is that I would have liked more of it to be set in South Africa. Maybe this is simply my own preference - one of the things I enjoy most about SA literature is that I can identify with it more than a novel set anywhere else. However, on the flip side of that coin is that Nick did an excellent job of writing about New York City - and this shows that South African authors can indeed extend into the global arena.

Ultimately, I would recommend A Million Miles from Normal to anyone who loves the chick-lit genre and anyone who doesn’t - both sets of readers will be equally surprised by the standard this novel sets!

Gritty in the city: Redemption, refugees and a re-imagined Joburg

South Africa and science fiction aren’t usually words that go together, but one SA author is changing that, bringing sparkling, slick fantasy writing to the forefront of South African literature, and having a lot of fun doing it. Tali Barnett chats to Lauren Beukes about her spectacular new novel, Zoo City

Zinzi December has a sloth on her back, a dirty 419 scam habit and a talent for finding lost things. But when an old lady turns up dead, she’s forced to take on her least favourite kind of job – missing persons. This could be her ticket out of Zoo City, the festering slum where the criminal underclass, marked by their animals, live in the shadow of the undertow. Instead, it catapults Zinzi deeper into the underbelly of a city twisted by crime and magic.

If I told you all of the above happens in Johannesburg, would you believe me? In Lauren Beukes’ world, Jozi’s urban sprawl is “an unfamiliar land full of familiars”, filled with broken places and equally broken people. Zoo City follows on from the critically-acclaimed Moxyland, and is a science-fictioned fantasy that will take you on an SA trip like you’ve never experienced before.

“Everything is fucking political”
From Beukes’ perspective, “it’s a novel about crime, magic and music, refugees and redemption. Zinzi, a girl with a sloth on her back and the magical ability to find lost things, is dragged into Johannesburg’s seedy underbelly when she takes on the job of locating a missing pop star. It’s wildly inventive fiction, set in a re-imagined Joburg – I guess it’s a bit China Mieville meets Phillip Pullman with a dose of District 9, without the aliens.”

Not your usual SA fiction by any means. When I ask Beukes about Zoo City relating to South Africa’s apartheid past, she retorts “eugh, I’m so over labels. I think South African fiction is in a very good place right now, where writers can write about anything.”

She elaborates: “Art doesn’t have to be a servant to political activism as it did during the struggle days, but then as Skunk Anansie said, ‘everything is fucking political’. You can’t divorce our present from our past. Apartheid’s legacy is going to be tripping us up for years to come. If you’re writing about South Africa, even if it’s a frothy chic lit or a boy’s boarding school romp, it’s there in the background. It has to be – it’s part of who we are.”

Sci-fi in South Africa
But how established is science fiction in South Africa? “It’s hard to publish science fiction or fantasy in South Africa because the publishers are generally not interested in a straight elves-and-dragons tale or space opera,” she explains.

“Those speculative stories that have worked tend to be grittier works with a social edge, like JM Coetzee’s political dystopia Waiting for the Barbarians or the smart, scathing action-satire that was District 9. It’s more about telling great stories that are recognisably us, which is different to the usual fictional locales such as London, Los Angeles, New York and Tokyo.”

She adds: “Didn’t Neill Blomkamp call Johannesburg the real city of the future? It’s that mash of cultures and economics, the third and first world crammed into one space that makes it exciting, new, different, and eminently accessible to international audiences if you do it right.”

Beukes is a journalist and columnist who deals with South African reality on a daily basis, yet in her novels she manages to effortlessly blend fantasy and reality together so that they appear perfectly in sync.

“That element of the fantastic – technology in Moxyland, magic in Zoo City – allows me to play with reality, to shift the perspective on issues that we take for granted, whether it’s economic apartheid or the rise of xenophobia, manufactured pop music, strange art or finding a way back from having committed terrible atrocities,” she says.

Monkeys and Bares
Animals play a key role in Zoo City, which is “about the idea of familiars: scapegoats and the monkey on your back or the Jiminy Cricket on your shoulder,” she says. “It’s inspired by a Shona belief in mashavi – that lost spirits of the ancestors might come back as animals and attach themselves to someone.”

In Zoo City, having an animal on your back is “a blessing and a curse; you get some small magical abilities, but you’re also immediately marked as a criminal outcast. It’s about segregation and the artificially imposed differences between people, but also guilt, accountability and the possibility of redemption.”

But Beukes’ novels go beyond the pages, and both Moxyland and Zoo City have official “merchandise”, which are “cool creative collaborations I did with ridiculously talented people,” she says. Both books have “kick-ass official soundtracks put together by African Dope’s HoneyB and me.”

For Zoo City, Beukes commissioned a range of toys called Bares. “I approached Am I Collective, who donated five of their blank vinyl Bares that were customised by amazing local illustrators, all inspired by Zoo City.”

Stranger than fiction
Finally, Beukes’ writing is as slick as it is sensual – reading Zoo City means being both pummeled and wrapped up in words, letting them explode as they hit you, and at the same time allowing them to weave themselves around you. If you were traumatized by reading Hermann Charles Bosman as English setwork books in high school, now is the time to start reading SA fiction again. Beukes’ writing will take your breath away.

If you want to write great fiction, “write what you know,” Beukes advises. “But if you don’t know, research the crap out of it.” Wherever you are, “experience makes your writing richer and more vivid. I’m very grateful for the interesting places and people journalism has exposed me to. Real life is often more surprising and inventive than even really, really weird fiction.”

The Zoo City Bares will be auctioned on BidorBuy.co.za from 27 July – 10 August. All proceeds will go to The Suitcase Project to provide ongoing education for refugee kids in Hillbrow.
Moxyland and Zoo City soundtracks are available at www.africandope.co.za

Attend these London events next week to get your hands on Zoo City:

BSFA meeting with reading, Q&A and interview, 28 July, 7pm onwards.
Venue: The Antelope Tavern

Forbidden Planet signing, 29 July, 6 - 7pm
Venue: London Megastore

BFS Open Night, 31 July, 1 - 5pm
Venue: The George pub on The Strand.
Beukes will also be the guest at the first BFS Open Night of the year.

This article was originally published here and here on page 15

The Bares

Home Away: "At home in the world"

What does it mean to be a South African traveller in today’s globalised world? A new book asks this question in 24 stories and 24 times zones by 24 South African writers, weaving together a magical and moving journey of travel and time. Home Away is an anthology that will make you question, treasure and reflect on your place in the world

 “You wonder what it means to live the life of a legal alien, with the dust of one country in your nostrils and the dreams of another in your head. You wonder whether the freedom to cross borders is tempered by the loneliness of exile, or whether the anxiety of driving on the wrong side of the road is inevitably offset by the thrill of driving on the right side of opportunity,” writes author Vikas Swarup as he contemplates the journey that Home Away will take you on in his foreword to the book.

A rollercoaster ride awaits you as you cross six continents and twenty-four time zones in an exploration of what it means to be a South African expat in today’s world. Editor Louis Greenberg has weaved together a unique concept- a compilation of 24 short stories by 24 South African writers in 24 hours and 24 cities. The tales make up one global day, following from each other in chronological order. The result is a dizzying dance of voices, places and spaces that reflect the experience of the South African traveller.

Home, Away

Greenberg gave this group of established South African authors and new writers a task that is more nuanced than other travel writing: the stories were to reflect not only the experience of travel, but also what it means to call South Africa home. Thus, each story is a multi-dimension moment that encapsulates being both home and away.

As the description of the book says, “being South African isn’t as black and white as it used to be. People from all over the world make this country their home, while South Africans have more geographical freedom than ever before.” From a distance, home can sometimes been seen through smoke and mirrors, and yet we need to continually look into that mirror to reflect on where we are, where we come from and where we want to go. Home Away constantly asks these questions, despite the stories being so varied.

At the same time, the book is a collection of snapshots recording the intensity and thrill of travel. A story set in steamy Havana describes this: “Aboriginal people believe that friends leave footprints, but enemies leave your life without a trace. Imagine if the same rule applied to travelling... to forget the details of places with painful memories, while allowing locations where one experienced transformation and happiness to build a house in the heart and stay with you forever.”

And what of the stories themselves? Compelling, powerful, sexy and strange, they will take you to places in the world and in your head that are equally real and fantastical. The opening act has the author trying to poison a politician in Nairobi at midnight; later, you travel with a set of suitcases; further you are plunged into a zombie-zone in Botswana and in another moment you are contemplating the institution of the British tea break in Oxford.

As you catch your breath between continents and time zones, you pause to reflect on your place in all this. As boundaries and borders blur both in the book and around you, you realize that, as Swarup says, “You are not a world away from home. You are at home in the world.”

This article was originally published on www.thesouthafrican.com 

The Perfection of Coincidence

I recently finished re-reading On the Other Side of Shame by Joanne Jowell. I hardly ever return to a book once I have read it, but something pulled me back to this one. And I read it even more vociferously- inspired by the work, captured by the narrative, drawn into that past, and astounded by the beautiful, perfect coincidences that surround this story.

Says author Joanne Jowell in a BOOK SA interview: “Synchronicity landed this one, fair and square, in my lap. My hairdresser put me together with his client with the amazing story. She turned out to be my cousin – and the bearer of a long kept family secret that I had never heard of.”

The review continues: 'In Cape Town in the 1960s, 17-year-old Lynette Zinn hid her pregnancy for seven months before her conservative Jewish parents discovered it. It’s a ‘shunda’ [Yiddish term for a scandal]. They refused to hear her protests about loving Max- her boyfriend- and wanting to marry him, and forced her to give up the baby for adoption. Some 18 months after the baby was given up for adoption, Lynette and Max married and went on to have three other children. The matter of their first child was never discussed, and was kept a secret.

Forty years later, Anthony Egnal, living in Seattle and working as a family physician, tried to adopt a child of his own. He had never felt compelled to find his birth parents until he came to adopt a child, which brought him face to face with the raw shame that people experience when they give up a child for adoption. That led him to discover how much he wanted to find his birth parents, to tell them that he was happy and grateful for the gift of life.'

Egnal managed to easily find the details of Lynnette and Max Langman, his biological parents. On a quiet Sunday evening in Cape Town, the phone call they had arranged rang out in the Langman's Bantry Bay apartment. 'That's your son', said Max. 'You better go answer it.'

That phone call began a conversation that would blossom into a reunion in many layers and many forms. As Lynette, her husband and her children reconnected with this lost son and brother, they completed a circle of life and living.

This book inspired me in that it was written using Oral History methods. In my studies I learnt about this historical approach and was able to apply it in my own work. Jowell's text is an example of oral history methodology in its element, where what people say and how they say it can shed light on the complexities of the past. Jowell conducts extensive interviews not only with Lynette, but everyone involved in the story, even those on the periphery (such as the adoption social worker and Antony's sister, Mandy.) The result is a multifaceted, nuanced, rich and complex narrative that makes the story all the more intense. It is like looking at a cut diamond in your palm, as its various faces glimmer in the light.

“Lynette Langman wanted me to tell the story to tell the story of adoption because it affects so many people. It had to be a good story, a good read and it had to tell the true story. I used a method of research and writing pioneered by Stubbs Turfell, which involves using the verbatim accounts of the interviews conducted with a range of people.
“The aim is to listen, engage and record without influence and then to sift through the material as a prospector through silt trying to find the diamonds in the rough.” The process involved conducting interviews across the oceans, and distinguishing the gloss of memory from the grime of real life", says Joanne in the BOOK SA piece.

This story also grabbed me because it is embedded in the South African Jewish community- my own community. The narrative is my grandparents' experience- the Muizenberg holidays, the dates and dances, the immigrant atmosphere, the conservative Jewish attitudes, the singular experience of Jewish homes and upbringings across the country. This story is a therefore a glimpse into a past that I relate to in my present and my identity. Further, the story swirls around my contemporary surroundings- Camps Bay, Bantry Bay, Hatfield Street, Charley's Bakery, Jammie Steps. It is enjoyable for a Capetonian to read the book from this angle.

What drew me in the most is the perfection of coincidence that pervades the narrative, as well as the people involved in the book. It begins with the birth of the book, where Joanne hears of the story and discovers that the narrator is her cousin- and it continues with the birth of the baby in the story, and his life. I will not tell you all the startling moments in this silver thread of synchronicity, so read it yourself to discover them. Reading the book reminded me of our place in the grand scheme of the universe- its playful yet perfect patterns that suddenly come together. The universe is conspiring to shower us with blessings, even if this is not clear to us at first.

The book flows and is well-written, and you will not put down until you've finished it! Taking a real-life story and shaping it into a gripping page-turner shows that the author is extremely talented- and that truth really is stranger than fiction.

The cover artwork of the book captures its essence. It is designed by Kim Lieberman, an established South African and international artist. She 'explores the invisible energies that travel between people and the impacts these currents have on our world. Investigating concepts like The Butterfly Effect and 6 Degrees of Separation, she has created artworks exploring the interconnectedness of human experience.'

The Millennium Trilogy

I just finished reading the final book of the Millennium trilogy by Stieg Larsson (for a rundown of the narrative and a great review, read http://www.mg.co.za/article/2009-10-23-the-new-millenium

Somehow in SA I think this trilogy has been dismissed by many as just another thriller blockbuster series, without much substance. If anything, the opposite is true. I have not read such a monumental and intricate work of fiction in a long time. Without wanting to sound disrespectful, it is not surprising that Larsson dropped dead of a massive heart attack after giving the Millennium manuscripts to his publisher. (In the third book, a character drops dead of a heart attack after working too hard, eerily forshadowing the author's death in many ways.) Not for a long time have a read such detailed and descriptive fiction. Whether it is in the realm of journalism, medicine, law, politics, women's rights or computer hacking (to name just a few of the many subjects this series delves into), Larsson presents it in researched, painstaking detail and knowledge. The result is a book where you have to concentrate on the intricate details you are presented with, and where you learn about everything that Larsson incorporates into his story.

Not only this, but Larsson exposes his country, Sweden, in all its flaws and flavours. What is startling to the reader is how this book is so deeply entrenched in Swedish society, and how un-Americanized it is. Larsson shamelessly splashes Swedish names, places and words throughout the text, so that it is completely and utterly steeped in that society and its history. The result is refreshing and powerful- even if it is just for the fact that you feel like you have travelled Stockholm's streets by the end of it. Larsson leaves it up to the reader to orientate themselves with the unfamiliar Swedish words and names that fill the narrative, which gives the reader a sense of empowerment as he orientates himself in a new landscape.

Or perhaps I should say she. If anything, Larsson is a champion of women's rights, and this emerges brutally and beautifully throughout the trilogy, as the theme is woven throughout the narrative, the characters, and the structure of the book itself. The heroine of the series, Lisbeth Salander, it the epitome of this motif, standing as both a victim and a champion of the rights of women. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Girl who Played with Fire both examine the abuse of women, particularly in human trafficking. Before each section of The Girl who Kicked the Hornets' Nest there are detailed descriptions of how women have fought in battle in history, foreshadowing Lisbeth's own battle against the forces of injustice have ruined her life. As it says in the article I mentioned above, in the concluding pages of the final book, 'Blomkvist sums up the nature of Salander's experience: "When it comes down to it, this story is not primarily about spies and secret government agencies; it's about violence against women, and the men who enable it."'

Finally, Larsson's trilogy is a perfect, meaty, magnificent story. It is complex, fast-paced yet detailed, and utterly addictive. He masterfully weaves together a fleshed-out cast of characters and a nuanced, multidimensional narrative.

This trilogy is about morality and justice and the systems that enable these to flourish or die. It is about the victims of systems and the power of words and actions. After reading the series, the loss of Larsson as a literary talent is all the more potent and poignant, and it is a tribute to his legacy that we read his thrilling fiction.