Monthly Archives: May 2014

Blog hopping with Alex and Sally

Devilskein and DearloveAlex and EliasMy dear friend and colleague writer, Alex Smith, invited me and and another friend, S.A. Partridge, to take over the blog hopping baton from her. She asked me to answer the following questions and to nominate two other women bloggers to continue with the chain. Before I respond, the nominations:

Page PluckerSophia from Bournemouth, UK, of the wonderful book reviewing blog: Page Plucker. Even though Sophia does not seem to be active right now, I hope she will resume her reviewing soon. It was her review of Philida which first attracted my attention to her blog.

Girl-wallpaperHelen MoffettHelen Moffett, a woman of many talents: editor, writer, cricket expert, poet, activist, cat-mother, and dear friend. She is the Helen in Helena S. Paige, one of the authors of the Girl series (I am currently reading Girl Walks into a Bar and Girl Walks into a Wedding which also has something to do with ‘hopping’ – between scenes of various erotic encounters…). Helen has also published one of my favourite volumes of poetry, Strange Fruit. Ever since I met her, I have also known that one day I am going to hold a novel in my hand that has only Helen’s name on the cover. I am looking forward to that moment very much.

THE BLOG HOPPING Q&A:

What am I working on?
I’m in the process of completing my next novel. My working title is Ordinary. It is a boy-meets-girl story for a young adult audience. I live near Bishops and I love going for walks on the school’s campus. The idea for the novel came to me during one of these walks. At first, I did not want to engage with it because I was in the middle of another novel. But Ordinary refused to go away, hijacking my creativity and keeping me awake at night, so I decided to give it a go. The other novel is on the backburner, but I hope to have both finished by the end of this year.

How does my work differ from others in its genre?
In my work I skip between genres all the time, so I am going to concentrate only on Ordinary for this answer: I hope to be able to portray teenage sexuality in a way that many teenagers will be able to relate to. Something between the extremes of over-the-top promiscuity and total innocence. I’m frustrated by both ends of the spectrum when I read YA literature. I recently saw a film that made me think of what I am trying to achieve in my novel: The First Time with Britt Robertson and Dylan O’Brien. The film is like a teenage version of Before Sunrise. Great stuff! But there is a much darker dimension to my novel than to the film.

Britt Robertson and Dylan O'Brien in The First Time

Britt Robertson and Dylan O’Brien in The First Time


Why do I write what I do?
I cannot imagine a life without reading and writing. Sharing stories gives meaning to my existence.

How does my writing process work?
Stories come to me. Often the trigger is an image, a phrase, a mood. Sometimes it is everything at once and within seconds the whole story is fully fledged in my mind. But usually it takes a few days or even weeks to develop an idea. I cannot begin writing before I know roughly where I am heading. At the bottom of every story is something that I need to understand for myself, and the need or wish of sharing the journey to that understanding with others. Then it is all about finding the voice: who is telling the story and how. For Invisible Others I had to re-write the first 10 000 words of the novel because the first-person narrator I chose for it in the beginning wasn’t working. If necessary, I do research. It is an organic process. The writing takes me a long time, but I don’t mind. I’m extremely patient. I prefer to work in the afternoons, that is when I find myself to be most creative. It took me a long time to understand this, but I know that I can’t force anything when it comes to writing. Every story has its own rhythms. I have learned to respect that. All my creative work happens on the computer, but I do take notes on paper. My desk is drowning in them. I always share the first draft of anything I write with my husband first, then I pass it on to others for comments. The editor gets the third or fourth draft, and the process of revision starts all over. That is when the real writing begins for me.

* * *

For André J. Kershaw’s, my step-grandson’s, review of one of Sally’s novels, Dark Poppy’s Demise, click here.
For my review of Alex’s latest novel, Four Drunk Beauties, click here.

Review: Chatsworth – The Making of a South African Township edited by Ashwin Desai and Goolam Vahed

ChatsworthThe forty contributions to this voluminous collection give a remarkable insight into the trials and tribulations of a South African township. Comprising academic studies, personal essays, and eye-witness reports on Chatsworth and its residents, the richly illustrated volume spans large chunks of the history of the township and its multitude of residents since its inception in the early 1960s.

Purely factual accounts are interspersed with vibrant narratives, like the one offered by the playwright Ronnie Govender who captures the spirit of the entire book by writing that a “ghetto is designed to kill the spirit of its hapless denizens … Chatsworth is one of those ghettos that refused to buckle.” Nearly all pieces in the book convey this message of survival against all odds.

Each of the local and international contributors approaches the township from a different angle. Many pieces centre on historical events and socio-political processes which shaped the area, first and foremost the initial forced resettlements around which all other memories evolve. One report examines the protests which dominated the early 1970s against plans to ban private bus companies from Chatsworth. Others write about specific individuals and entire movements which have been combating the appalling living conditions in the township. They zoom in on the daily struggles of ordinary people facing displacement, dire poverty, unemployment, gang culture, drug abuse, or different forms of exploitation.

There is an account of the horrific incident which shook Chatsworth on 24 March 2000 when thirteen teenagers were killed in a stamped at a nightclub. The tragedy was a wake-up call for the community to rethink the infrastructures available to young people in the township. Such reports are contrasted with stories about people hailing from Chatsworth who have made a great success of their lives, like Kumi Naidoo, the present International Executive Director of international environmentalist group Greenpeace, or Kerishnie Naiker, Miss Africa of 1997, who through her Welfare Initiative has initiated and facilitated the building of the Chatsworth Youth Centre.

Reading about the uplifting role cricket and football played in the lives of Chatsworth’s players, their teams, and the communities which supported them makes one furious about the carelessness with which sports at school level have been dealt with by the post-apartheid dispensation. More inspiring is the story of the Denny Veeran Music Academy where legions of musicians are being taught to reach for their dreams.

The book includes a captivating photo essay by Jenny Gordon which focuses on the centres of worship in Chatsworth. It is a welcome companion to the few contributions which describe the religious make-up of the township and the challenges the various groups of worshippers encounter in their quest for spiritual guidance.

Chatsworth: The Making of a South African Township is not exactly a leisurely read and will not be of much interest to a general reader. For anybody wanting to look into the inner workings of a township, it will be a treasure trove of information and impressions. In this respect, I felt highly enriched by the book.

Review first published in the Cape Times on 2 May 2014.

Fresh from Franschhoek: FLF 2014

Nadia and I at the FLF, photo by Jennifer Platt

Nadia and I at the FLF, photo by Jennifer Platt

Another FLF has come and gone. It was my first one as a participating author. My event with Nadia Davids was a real joy. Nadia is wonderfully articulate, kind, a pleasure to talk to, and more beautiful in real life than in any photograph. We discovered that on top of everything else we have in common, she left South Africa the year I first arrived here. We seem to be leading these uncanny parallel lives. I hope there will be many more points of contact. We read from our novels, spoke about writing place and history, being first-time novelists, the genres we write in, and our lives as writers and critics.
With Nadia
(Jennifer Platt from the Sunday Times twitted live from our event.)

The guest of honour at the FLF this year displayed her eloquence with light, shade and colour, bathing Franschhoek in its autumn glory. This is my favourite time of the year, and the beauty of autumn days like these past two fills me with a sense of wonder like nothing else. (There was this one autumn day in 1990 when my mother was hanging up laundry in our garden in Church Street in Warwick, NY, and I was just there, watching her, surrounded by the reds and browns and yellows of dying leaves, basking in the early morning light, the sun on my back, and silence between us when I thought, This is where love comes from, from the beauty of this world, it is nourished and sustained by it. Despite its craziness, the weekend reminded me of that day.)

André with Breyten Breytenbach at the FLF

André with Breyten Breytenbach at the FLF

Franschhoek had all its other treats ready for us. Books and book lovers everywhere. The programme offered tons of stimulating encounters. The food and the wines were divine, as always. Gable Manor, the guest house we stayed in, was charming and cosy. In the words of Kgebetli Moele, the author of Untitled, who left a comment in the guest book the day before us: “Perfection!”
All that was missing was the time and space to enjoy it all, but festivals are by nature hectic creatures, especially if one is participating, leaving you dazed and exhausted for days afterwards. There is something about a festival that often puts me on edge. It’s not the participating on stage or being part of an audience, but rather the in-between of awkwardness when these boundaries are blurred.

I attended four sessions and a show during the weekend. The highlight was the show: Pieter Dirk-Uys’s AND THEN THERE WAS MADIBA! I have heard him speak at FLF and other events before, seen him numerous times on TV, and have cooked with Evita for years now, but I had never attended one of his live performances. Now I know that by not making it to one earlier, for years I have been depriving myself of laughter and insight. I will not be so stupid in the future. Dirk-Uys as Madiba or Zuma or Verwoerd was a sight to behold. He was priceless as Winnie. And underneath all the laughter and fun was a profound message of hope and being all together in this beautiful mess we call the New South Africa. There is always hope for a nation capable of laughing at its follies.

The sessions I attended were truly inspiring, worth every cent:

WHO GETS TO DECIDE WHAT’S LITERATURE
Jenny Crwys-Williams talking to Karin Schimke, Lauren Beukes and Imraan Coovadia about the interactions between authors, critics and readers. I found the following comments interesting:

Lauren said that nowadays authors have to be more social and put themselves out there. As Jenny pointed out, Lauren is highly successful in exploiting social media for book-promotion and is one of the few young South African writers who can write full-time because of commercial success. Lauren said that as a social person she counts herself lucky to be able to engage in the world of social media and enjoy it. She also said that she was fortunate in finding an agent who understood her vision. Lauren helps to promote other local writers by hosting The Spark on her blog. When she started with it, the idea was to have a white and a black writer alternatingly, which has proven impossible. It seems that black writers were not responding as readily to her requests as white writers (I had a similar experience when compiling Touch: Stories of Contact for which I was subsequently criticised, but I did approach many more black writers than ended up in the anthology; for various reasons some chose not to participate in the project; both Lauren and Imraan donated their fantastic stories for which I am still very grateful). She also praised her South African editor, Helen Moffett, who allows her to perform all kinds of acrobatic stunts in the air because she knows who is on the ground waiting to catch her if anything goes wrong. (As part of the trio Helena S. Paige behind the Girl series, Helen is not only a successful novelist, but also a sensual poet and a nurturer of South African literary talent.)

FLF books1Karin conceded that as a journalist she understands that she should be participating in the world of social media, but admitted to finding it exhausting. She made a wonderfully vivid comparison between twitter and being at a crowded cocktail party where all one longs for is a breath of fresh air, but getting to the door proves to be nearly impossible. (I cannot say how grateful I was for that image – I am too frightened to even enter that room – I am the one outside in a quiet corner, sipping the champagne, and reading a book). Karin did not get out of her way to market her book of poetry Bare & Breaking when it was published in 2012. Like most writers, she would love to be able to write in her chosen genre fulltime, but has to make a living otherwise. She has no illusions about being able to live off writing poetry in South Africa, but that is not what it is all about for her. As a writer, one has to understand one’s motives for writing, she said.

Imraan spoke about the difficulty of talking about the reading experience which is deeply personal and not always easily shareable. I loved his comment about the fact that a change in taste is proof of a “living mind”. He also mentioned that for him there are different ways of being a writer in the world. He referred to Damon Galgut who is shy and simply gets on with his writing without unnecessarily putting himself out there. He also said something very interesting: Why spend so much time on publicity if the reason you write is to get rich? Instead, one could invest the time in becoming a billionaire by other, more straightforward ways. For him, writing is about the “book and you”.

(After the session I bought a copy of Karin’s Bare & Breaking. Some time ago, I published a review of four Modjaji poetry titles, three of which I found outstanding, one less so. The positive comments I made about the three books went largely unnoticed. For my comments about the fourth one I got lynched. The heated reaction of the publisher and friends of the author to my negative remarks about the fourth volume sadly put me off further Modjaji titles. This is how I missed out on Karin’s book until now. But some of her comments about the volume and her own approach to writing made me curious enough to ignore my decision to keep away from Modjaji titles. On Saturday evening, I read some of Karin’s poems in the luxurious bath of our room with a view at Gable Manor and the moment I got out, I made my husband read them. We were both bowled over by her “sound-shades”. I look forward to discovering the rest of the volume.)

Here is one gem:

“Morning Work” by Karin Schimke

We are cocked and angled
together like an African chair,
groin-hinged and eye-locked,
small-talking the sun up.
At the join we are genderless
until – out of two flat triangles –
something flowers at us,
blooms bright as though
our eyes are suns
and it must find light.
We give it light, and we laugh,
and then bury it, lids shut,
so it can seed again.

THE CONSIDERED CANON
Imraan Coovadia spoke to Nadia Davids and Michiel Heyns about the Western and the South African literary canons. All three are novelists, reviewers and academics.

FLF books 2Nadia said something very moving about academics having the “privilege of learning to read deeply”. She sees the text as a social document that operates in the world, not only as something read for pleasure. During our talk the day before, I asked her whether her own novel, An Imperfect Blessing, was an attempt to write a people into history who had been underrepresented until recently, and she said yes, admitting that it was done with the full awareness of the pitfall of representation. That was her reason for including minute details of everyday Muslim family life in her story of specific historical moments (time round forced removals from District Six, the state of emergency in1986 and the year 1993, just before the first democratic elections). Michiel mentioned that while reading Nadia’s novel he was aware of her having read Jane Austen. What a compliment for any writer!

Nadia, Imraan and Michiel at the FLF

Nadia, Imraan and Michiel at the FLF

Imraan, who is an excellent book reviewer with the kind of gutsy eloquence which I lack, quoted from the curious Wikipedia entry about South African literature which made most of the audience shudder. Hope was expressed that people engaged in writing these entries will amend it to reflect less biased views. Imraan asked the panellists to name their own personal South African canons. The Story of an African Farm was there for both Nadia and Michiel. Michiel mentioned Bosman, Paton, J.M. Coetzee (Age of Iron and Disgrace); Nadia added Woza Albert!, The Island, Gordimer and Brink. Outside of South Africa, Nadia made a special mention of Anna Karenina, and Michiel of Middlemarch. Harold Bloom’s conservative take on the Western canon was discussed. Imraan found that according to Google the most mentioned South African books are Long Walk to Freedom, Cry, the Beloved Country, Country of My Skull, Heart of Redness, Ways of Dying, Spud, The Smell of Apples, The Power of One, and Master Harold and the Boys. He added Burger’s Daughter to the list himself, because “it should have been there.” I agree wholeheartedly.

Michiel Heyns is one of my favourite local book reviewers. (For five years, I’d had the honour of reviewing books alongside Imraan and Michiel for the Sunday Independent under the editorial guidance of Maureen Isaacson.) I always say that when I grow up I want to write reviews like his. I also had the privilege of working with him on Encounters with André Brink. Michiel is one of the few South African authors who see the entire world as their fictional playground, daring to write about topics other than local. I applaud him for that! Exciting news is that Michiel’s latest novel, A Sportful Malice, has been published last week. Talking about the Western canon, or any canon for that matter: the title derives from Shakespeare. Definitely something to look forward to! During the discussion, Michiel mentioned merit in relation to Nadia’s reference to the text as a social document. He spoke about literature and the canon as a “moral guide”, of showing you “how to live your life”. A test for any text is whether you are prepared to reread it, he said. I also think of it in terms of whether you want to share it with other people. The moment I find myself buying the same title over and over again for my friends, I know I have encountered a good book.

AFRICAN PASTORAL
DominiqueHarry Garuba talking to Dominique Botha, Claire Robertson, and André Brink about their latest novels, False River, The Spiral House, and Philida, respectively.

Claire and Dominique are first-time novelists. Like André, Dominique writes in both languages, Afrikaans and English. She recommended to everyone in the audience to write in Afrikaans if they could, as she was thrilled with the kind of enthusiasm and reception she encountered on the Afrikaans literary scene. Her novel is based on her family story and she has kept the names of her family members in the book: “It’s my take on something that may or may not have happened,” she said. She is of the opinion that “it is much better to write truth and call it fiction than to write fiction and call it truth”. (During questions from the audience, I asked about her decision to keep the real names for a fictionalised story. She said the names were beautiful and that changing them would not have removed the problematic aspect of the situation. The people involved would still know that they are being written about, only the larger public not. I’m not entirely convinced. In cases like this, I always try to imagine what it would be like for me: I would feel uncomfortable about my own brother writing a fictionalised version of me and using my name for it in a novel. It simply would feel that it wasn’t me. Why my name then? If he was writing a memoir or biography, and attempting to reconstruct memories in the process without intentionally fictionalising them, I would have no issue with him telling anything about the family past we share and using my name. In a novel based on fact, on the other hand, I feel that a name change signifies that fiction is part of the parcel, that the people are no longer the ones you knew in real life but partly imagined characters who might reflect on real people but are their own creatures. This is particularly true for me when one writes about people who are still alive and who owe their own versions of a story. I don’t want to pretend to have final answers to this complicated process, not even for my own work, but I think it is an aspect of writing that should be treated with utmost care.)

Claire, who had the rare experience in South Africa of having her book go beyond the first impression within a very short period of time, spoke about the idea of a farm novel which not only connects us to the land but to something much larger. After she’d finished her novel, it revealed to her that what she had been writing about is the “urge to perform acts of rescue”. While writing, whether as a novelist or a journalist, she looks for “tragic flaws”, not “wickedness”, in people, whether it is in the men of the Enlightenment or the architects of apartheid.

Tellingly, I forgot to note who during the discussion said that memory is a “very personal and unreliable thing”.

Victor and André

Victor and André

For André, whose novel Philida was born on and delves into the history of the nearby wine farm Solms-Delta, the act of writing begins when fact ends and imagination takes over. Through writing the story of Philida, he felt “enmeshed in my own life”. Philida could voice things which were difficult to communicate otherwise.
In the fourth event I attended (LITERARY DOYEN) Victor Dlamini, an insightful and patient interviewer (and one of my favourite photographers), spoke to André about his career, belonging, and Philida.

A note of thank you: Thank you Liz for all your kind words about my novel (you made my day!). Thank you to all for a weekend of literary delights!

Books sold (that I know of): 1 (thank you Nols – very kind of you! I hope you will enjoy it)
Books bought: 3
(I’m clearly not in it for the money.)

Of Treks, Wars and Stars

HeirToTheEmpireI still don’t really understand how it happened, but when I was about seven or eight years old and still living in the then Communist Poland, our school went to see Star Wars: Return of the Jedi in the cinema. The film made an enormous impression on me, at that stage not necessarily a good one. I was too young to digest the violence, especially when perpetrated against the cuddly, cute Ewoks. The scene where one of the Ewoks realises that their friend is not moving and will not get up again haunted my childhood dreams for many months to come. Despite this heartache and trauma, there was something about the Star Wars Universe that captured my imagination. When a few years later, I had the opportunity to see the entire original Star Wars trilogy, I was hooked for life. I cannot count how many times I have watched these movies, and how many more times I still will. I don’t seem to ever tire of them. I have also read some of the accompanying books, of which Timothy Zahn’s Thrawn Trilogy is my absolute favourite.

I am not a huge fan of the recent Star Wars film trilogy, although I love the way it portrays Anakin’s path to the Dark Side. And, obviously, I am counting the days until the first film in the latest Disney trilogy is released next year. I hope I can go and see it with Krystian, my brother, who is just as much a fan as I am. The fact that the original actor trio: Carrie Fisher (whom I also adore as an author), Harrison Ford, and Mark Hamill are going to be starring in the trilogy is fantastic. I have followed their careers with great interest for many years (I saw another all-time favourite for the first time – The ‘Burbs – just because Carrie Fisher starred in it).

Fisher Ford HamillTo see them reunited on a film project makes my heart sing. When I was thirteen and had a terrible crush on Luke Skywalker, I promised myself that one day when I am old enough, I am going to travel to Hollywood, declare my love to him, and we will live happily ever after, travelling through the Universe and defending it from all Evil (at that stage, I didn’t differentiate much between an actor and his role…). Then I grew up (and found out that Mark Hamill was one of the few people in Hollywood who actually seemed happily married and not looking to go on quests to rescue the Universe with some crazy Jedi wannabe).

imagesR77R8SAFAt some stage, while I was still at high school, my friend Thomas suggested that as a Star Wars fan I might enjoy watching Star Trek which he did religiously. I had accidently seen a few scenes from the series when zapping through TV channels but hadn’t found anything appealing in them. But then, Thomas asked me to just watch one full episode before passing final judgement. To humour him, I agreed, and that very afternoon settled down after to school to watch. I am not sure that I recall that first episode I saw correctly, but I know it blew my mind. That is how I became a Trekkie. Since them, I have also seen everything that there was to watch connected with the franchise, including the first seasons of Star Trek from the 60s. I was amazed how watchable they still were. A year or so ago, one of our channels available in South Africa repeated all the Star Trek feature films. I’ve always enjoy seeing those, too. What I like about them most is their subtle or not so subtle commentary on contemporary socio-political developments. J.J. Abrams’ latest Star Trek: Into Darkness’s take on ‘the hunt for a dangerous war criminal’ is not exactly subtle but brilliant nevertheless. It just shows you that real baddies are not always easy to identify.

Whether trekking or warring, these movies/series make one think beyond their special effects (no matter how spectacular), and that is what I treasure about them most. That, and the humour, the values, and the friendships they portray (Spock and Kirk, or Data and Geordie, or Luke and Han).

wishfuldrinkingI like the fact that the first Star Wars movie was born the same year I was.

My brother and I greet each other like Vulcans.

Once I tried wearing my hair like Princess Leia but my friend Jeremy pointed out that it rather looked like Chewie’s.

I drink Earl Grey tea when I write, a habit inspired by Jean-Luc Picard. Too bad I can’t order it from a replicator. Well, at least not yet…

I like reaching for the stars.

\\//_

May the Force be with you!

And a belated happy birthday to George Lucas!

A haven for diaries

Diaries
What pleasure to open a daily newspaper to two pages devoted only to writing and reading! Especially in times when less and less space is spared for such ‘archaic’ occupations. The Cape Times‘ book page(s) appear(s) every Friday. Yesterday, a full spread was filled with reviews, book marks, information about upcoming literary events, and a heart-warming article by Katie Grant about The Great Diary Project.

I began keeping a diary in 1989. The first one was a Mickey Mouse journal with a lock. I got it from one of my Dad’s (he used to be a coach) cyclists and his girlfriend for my 12th birthday. There was also a matching fountain pen which my brother still feels sorry about accidently destroying a few years later. I started the diary on 29 January, a day after my birthday, and wrote about the party, the cake my Mom baked (the entry includes a surprisingly accurate sketch of the leftovers), and a line about how strange it was to be a twelve-year-old girl.

Since then I have filled many other diaries, all of which I have with me in my study in Cape Town. I read some of the entries today and can’t stop smiling and blushing – that kiss on a park bench near my high school, that longing and the confusion, that first break-up with all the door slamming and high drama, or all that sand in my hair after a night on the beach with R and my Mom’s loaded silence when I slipped back into our guesthouse room in the early morning hours – it’s all there, not necessarily only in words, somehow dormant and forgotten, and yet immediately brought back to life the moment I begin reading… The smell of the Baltic Sea during that rainy summer. I would never have been able to remember most of it. But the diaries hold all my former selves and remind me why I still feel that Wednesdays are special, why I love getting handwritten letters, why that particular shade of blue, or why chocolate flavour.

To think what treasures the collection of The Great Diary Project holds…

A man from our neighbourhood

In the thought-provoking and moving novel Revelations (2010), Mongane Wally Serote writes:

“In the white areas where we were, Cape Town flaunted its homeless like dirty petticoats peeping out. Bra Shope said it was like filthy underwear flung in your face. It did the same with its teenage prostitutes, who now lifted their dresses beneath the streetlights to show off their thighs and genitals to passing cars. On street corners children – little girls and boys like week-old puppies – knocked on your car window, plucked at your clothing, asking for bread. Other homeless people hung words on cardboard boxes in the still night of this pretty city, in the silence beneath Table Mountain where the whispering wind smells of the sea” (71, my emphasis).

It is a terrible thing to say, but after living in Cape Town for a while one can get immune to the “flaunting”; you either stops seeing it all together, or your heart does not bleed any longer when you do notice. Yet, there are two street people in Cape Town who make my heart ache no matter how many times I encounter them in the streets: one sells “Funny Money” leaflets with jokes near Cavendish, the other one used to sell bead necklaces, second-hand books and similar on Liesbeek Parkway, asking for money or food in exchange.
I found out this morning from our Neighbourhood Watch newsletter that the latter’s name was Steve Busse and that he died last Friday.
I’ve never spoke to him, I’ve never bought anything from him. (I have been duped so many times since coming to South Africa that I have adopted a ‘don’t get involved’ stance. I used to help anybody I could. A few unfortunate incidents caused me to stop.) But I’ve always wondered what cruel fate had brought this particular man to the intersection near our home where I saw him nearly every day and could never pass without hurting inside.
Only his death brought with it his story:

Documentary by Jonathan Sidego.

Invisible Others at Clarke’s Bookshop

IO at Clarkes2Not surprisingly, since Protea Book House is my publisher, I sighted the first copies of Invisible Others on a bookshop shelve at the Rondebosch branch of Protea Bookshop where the novel was also launched a few days ago. The Book Lounge also launched it, so no surprise to see it there either. But when I saw Invisible Others prominently displayed at Clarke’s Bookshop in Long Street where I had no launch and where I do not know a single soul, that gave me a real thrill. It felt like the novel had truly made it into the world and from then on embarked on a life as an independent creature. May that journey be full of wonder and joy!

To order Invisible Others from Clarke’s Bookshop click here: How to order.

Invisible Others at Clarke's Bookshop, photos by Roma Szczurek

Invisible Others at Clarke’s Bookshop, photos by Roma Szczurek