Isle by Claire Robertson

Isle by Claire Robertson is one of those books that, even after much consideration, I find difficult to pigeonhole. And it's been preying on my mind awhile now, weeks after I have finished it. First off, it was the cover that got me – I admit I'm a sucker for striking covers. But also, in my mission to read more African writers, this was certainly intriguing when I cast an eye over the blurb.

It's not a novel, but rather two novellas that have been glomped together, with the only real connection being that both take place on an island and feature the lives of women – though they are centuries apart.

I – Forth from this Place takes up the bulk of the offering, and is the tale of a community of women living on the Isle of St Katharine. They are not nuns, nor have they sworn an oath of celibacy, but they do live as a community of nuns would – cloistered and independent of the world of men. Yet their Magistra Lutgard is well aware of the fragility of the equilibrium their liminal space inhabits. She is anxious not to agitate the church or nearby community too much – for in her time witch hunts are not uncommon. It doesn't help that one of her women, Mechthild, is restless, striving to be more, do more. Find her own way in the world in a manner that is unconventional for its time.

None of this is helped when a Moorish peddler is rescued from a near-drowning, and serves as a muse for Mechthild in her artistic aspirations. She makes a book of hours, but instead of following conventions, her lifelike representations of the people around her surprise and astound those who are not accustomed to seeing representations of their faces laid down on paper. This act of hers has far-reaching consequences, not only for Mechthild, but for the lives her work touches.

II – Uxo brings us to a post-WWII setting where Lily Kinsella, who is higher-ranking than her fellow officer, John Burge, are tasked to recover or destroy old ordnance. Yet from the start, it is clear that all is not well with Lily, nor her relationship with Burge. Their work takes them to remote places, and it's clear  this unbalanced relationship between the two, carries equal parts resentment and reverence on Burge's part in the face of Lily's seeming indifference to him. 

Their travels bring them to an unnamed island that serves as a penitentiary, where Lily's interactions with teenage Iris and her prison warden father stir trouble, and eventually bring the issues between Lily and Burge to a head. Part coming-of-age story, part remembering of a shrouded past, this novella offers readers a careful dance between withholding and revealing in a way that exposes the fragility of human lives in all their ugliness and beauty.

Neither of these novellas comes to a head in a way that is satisfying – but then again, it's not for an ending or great denouement that one would read, but rather the savouring of each line of prose that is so exquisitely crafted that it is liquid poetry. And that's all I'll say on the matter. See for yourself.

Kill Baxter by Charlie Human

Following on the breakneck speed of Apocalypse Now-Now, Charlie Human's anti-Harry Potter, Baxter, is back. This time he has to attend a school for the magically inclined – a rather nasty place in the middle of nowhere aptly named Hexpoort. In typical Human style, Kill Baxter is a non-stop romp from one misadventure to the next, as we are plunged deeper into the world of the Hidden, and those who have to stop that world from spilling out into our own.

It's not a walk in the park for Baxter, who up until the events unfolding in book one, has lived a rather mundane life. Now he discovers he's apparently a dreamwalker – a rare ability – and he has precious little time to come into his powers before he is dragged into conflict. The kids at his new school aren't helping much either – if ever there existed a motley collection of reprobates, this is it. What doesn't help is that the resident Chosen One (a nod to Harry Potter himself) is an unmitigated tosser with a penchant for pushing Baxter around.

After saving the world the first time, Baxter has decided to turn over a new leaf. So he keeps holding himself back from being the unholy terror he was in book one. And this division of his light/dark self does create problems for him as he goes along – he needs to find his true self before he can come fully into his powers, and the way things go, he may not survive to do so.

Kill Baxter is full of absurd humour, ultra violence and often unexpectedly wry observations about the human condition – something that's difficult to get the balance right. I did feel, however, at times, that the writing is a bit fast, that the overall plot development (as it does in book one) occasionally gets derailed in favour of the style, but somehow Human pulls it off far better in book two than book one. Perhaps it's because he's more comfortable in the world now, knows the characters better.

There's something almost Pratchettesque about the setting, in an Ankh-Morpork kinda way, but far, far darker, and steeped in African mythology. I also suspect that some of the references will no doubt go way over the heads of non-South African readers. But I also reckon that this sprawling contemporary fantasy novel will hit the mark too, because its themes will, by the same measure, seem so fresh to many non-South African  readers. Kill Baxter is fast, funny and sometimes quite silly, but at the end of the day it's one heck of a ride.

What About Meera by ZP Dala

What About Meera by ZP Dala is one of those books I chose to read because I knew it would take me way out of my comfort zone, and not only that, but show me a slice of life I'm not privy to. Also, please just take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the cover. Just a little bit. It's even prettier when admiring the book in real life.

The blurb on the back goes on about the book being "full of black humour" and goes on about a "woman's attempts to shape her own destiny" but that makes it sound somewhat uplifting. This is, as the title, a story about Meera, an Indian South African woman who grew up on a sugar cane farm in Tongaat, but if I had to think of a subheading for the book, it would be more along the lines of "awful people being awful". And there are many awful people in this book who cross paths with Meera.

Dala digs deep beneath the skin of the South African Indian culture, examining the relationships between parents and children, wives and husbands, and the power structures that exist in communities. This is not an easy read, and truth be told, I found nothing at all humorous. Not even darkly humorous. Just crushingly dark and unrelenting – the way I like my books.

ZP's storytelling flows between past and present, sometimes digressing to show us more about the people in Meera's life and giving you an idea of what motivates them to be ... well ... the awful people doing the awful things.

I'll also have you know that I find this kind of digging under the skin absolutely lush, and some of the imagery is just perfect (like the wedding where the marigolds and human ordure accidentally met) so don't for one moment think I don't like it – I do. Even if the story is heartrending, even if you find yourself shaking your fists impotently at the situations Meera finds herself in.

At first she is passive, accepting an arranged marriage, accepting others' decisions for her, but there comes a time when the cumulative cruelty others mete out becomes too much, and Meera cracks. At first she runs back to her parents, but here she is a woman who doesn't know her place. "Go back to your husband," they keep telling her, but instead she flees to Dublin, of all places, in a desperate attempt to find something for herself.

And for a while it seems that she's doing all right, that is until she has a passionate affair with an Irishman ... which drives her to The Awful Thing. And it is awful. Truly godawful. And I find it difficult to forgive her. But I do have empathy for her. Meera is broken. Her responses are as a result of the brokenness of her upbringing and her desperate attempts to gain direction in her life (and her eventual failure to do just that).

ZP doesn't flinch from ugliness. In fact, she purposefully holds up that cracked, dirty mirror so that we may examine ourselves and how we relate to others. This is not an easy book to read, but I savoured every chapter and the fluidity of the telling that went at exactly the pace it needed to go, even when it digressed to nearly surreal moments that, I feel, did well to express Meera's desperate situation.

If you're looking for hope, for some sort of reassurance of something better, this is not your book. What About Meera is an evocative, dark existentialist fugue that revels in the brittle, broken parts of human nature; it's about the realisation that we are all, in a sense, victims of circumstances and there is no escape. It's about not getting the words to the song right, and being okay with that. And then revelling in the absurdity of life, in its short, nasty and brutish nature.

The Ghost-Eater and Other Stories compiled by Diane Awerbuck & edited by Louis Greenberg #review

Title: The Ghost-Eater and Other Stories
Compiled: Diane Awerbuck
Edited: Louis Greenberg
Publisher: Umuzi, 2013

Short story anthologies number among my guilty pleasures, and it was impossible to resist when two of my favourite South African bookish folk – Diane Awerbuck and Louis Greenberg – put their creative minds together to bring out this selection of 31 tales. There is a little bit of everything here to please most palates, and I enjoyed not really knowing what I was getting into whenever I started a fresh tale.

It’s also far beyond the scope of this review to give detailed mention for each story, so I’ll highlight a handful that stood out for me.

“Revelations” by Jennifer Thorpe is filled with barbed humour made me snigger quietly to myself for the naïveté of the narrator pondering the End of Days and the fate of a beloved pooch.

Ilze Hugo’s “The Ghost-Eater” from which the anthology derives its name offers sly, paranormal humour. Fred Mostert, the ghost-eater, is a character I won’t easily forget – especially for his Klippies en Coke and his penchant for KFC.

Then there are stories like Daniel Bertie’s “The Writing Class” that are just downright disturbing in the most deliciously devious pet-“murgling” ways.

I’ve been following Liam Kruger’s career with interest and his “& Found” features his signature alcohol-steeped observations. Many of his characters offer an uncomfortably seedy vibe and this tale, which features a magician with a rare gift to find lost property is no exception.

Mia Arderne’s “The Fool” amply conveys that dismal “morning after the night before” miasma as the protagonist suffers the depredations of both genders. The crushing despair is painful, and you can’t help but feel that the protagonist is the only one to blame for her misery.

“The Nazi Insurgence Reaches Blairgowrie” by Werner Pretorius brings with it a sense of unrelenting claustrophobia as the protagonist deals not only with a midlife crisis but also his father’s dementia.

As stated earlier, this is but a selection of stories that stood out for me, and I’m certain other readers will resonate with different examples. A sense of Africa in all its diversity permeates this anthology, which brings with it a resonance for locals, and perhaps a taste of the exotic for non-Africans. The tales run the spectrum, from lit fic through to spec fic, and if you’re in the mood to dip into fresh voices worth keeping an eye out for in the future, then you can’t go wrong with The Ghost-Eater and Other Stories. Here you’ll find tales that are humorous, disconcerting, dark or poignant; they will quietly slip you into unexpected realities for a short spell, as all good short stories should.