There are few people who can capture all the complexity and paradox of South Africa in modern times as Brink can. This book may be big but it crystallizes a time in South African history that was very real, scary and complex.

Imaginings of Sand - André Brink

This beautifully crafted and sensitive book deals with many of the important issues which South Africans must now face in the post-apartheid era. The novel begins with the return of Kristien Muller to her dying grandmother's bedside. The grandmother is a wonderful character, full of enchantment, mischief, energy and most importantly stories. She is the keeper of stories about the family's history and origins, in particular the parallel histories and stories of the women in their family throughout the generations. This is part of the reason for Kristien's return, to receive the gift of stories and memory from her grandmother before the old woman dies. While the novel centres around the relationship between Kristien and her grandmother, Ouma Kristina, the novel is also a complex matrix of parallel and interconnected dialogues with the other characters in the novel, from the past and the present, which constantly interrupt and participate in the central dialogue. Brink deals with the themes of returning home, the re-imagining of the past in order to move forward, recognising roots and ancestry and their implications in the present and the exploration of the dynamics between history and story, the real and the imaginary, and fact and fiction. Brink captures the mood of South Africa on the eve of the elections very accurately, he portrays the heightened states of fear, cynicism and evil alongside the passion, hope, excitement and idealism with sensitivity and compassion, while still conveying a powerful warning to those who wish to thwart the much needed and inevitable transition to democracy. In Ouma Kristina's stories there is a distinctly African flavour, which can be linked to the rediscovery of African tradition in South Africa and the move away from Eurocentric ideologies. Ouma Kristina's stories combine Afrikaner legends and stories with those of the indigenous African people, the KhoiSan and in doing so Brink demonstrates how interconnected the histories of these two groups are, and there is perhaps the suggestion that in rediscovering a shared history lies the hope for conciliation and a better understanding of one another in the future. While this novel has many distinctly South African nuances to it, it should still appeal to a wide readership because apart from the sheer brilliance of Brink's story-telling, the broader themes that are dealt with are really universal in nature and effect most of us at some time in our lives.

This celebrated novel by Brink explores the contradictions, oppressions and inequalities of apartheid like no other novel. Brink paints an elaborate portrait of South Africa and its tragic evolution into a philosophy as corrupt and inherently evil as either communism of fascism.
Joseph Malan, a talented actor feels compelled to return from the comfort and liberalism of Europe to his native Cape Town where he forms a theatre group of fellow coloureds, adapting their plays to demonstrate the totalitarian and oppresive nature of South African society and to keep alive hope - without hope where are we?
We are shown glimpses of the different races, the tensions between them and their differing goals while we follow Malan's reminicences from death row and his quest for recognition, security and most importantly freedom, set against the stark natural beauty of South Sfrica.
Andre Brink exposes the absurdities and brutal realities of apartheid such as the immorality act, detention without trial, torture, state murder and censorship with an accomplished and often elaborate prose that leaves the reader aghast that this cancerous society was cossetted by the West for so many decades. The author's courage in publishing this and other condemnatory works while himself under observation by the Security Branch is as important now as a warning to the future as a denouncement of that era.

Brinks sketches the life of a idealistic man - Ben du Toit that lives his life in Apartheid South Africa on the brink of normalcy until the mysterious death of a black American friend and his son points to government involvement. As du Toit becomes obsessed with discovering the truth he becomes the symbol of Afrikaner conscience struggling to cope with the conflict and alienation that this crusade against Apartheid causes. With Apartheid being woven into the Afrikaner concept of nationhood and religion Ben finds himself not only in conflict with his family or the government but with his own history and ultimately with his own identity and even his soul. du Toit becomes a classical Afrikaner in his stubborn steadfast refusal to sway from his course , irrespective of the consequences, that he believes to be the only just and morally acceptable one.

He painfully exposes the moral vacuum of Apartheid and how it alienates not just du Toit from himself and his family but ultimately the Afrikaner from their fellow South Africans, as well as their own ideas of justice and morality.

The original Afrikaans language edition packs a powerful punch and is beautiful to read. English translation loses a bit of impact and fails to capture the finesse of the master writer in his mother tongue but is never the less worth burning the midnight oil for. It should however be noted that the story is dated and not a balanced portrayal of South Africa, Afrikaners or Apartheid.

Good fiction but not a historical treatise of Apartheid as some reviewers seem to think.

Andre Brink,a white South African novelist, indicts the murderous intent of the apartheid system and how one man with his whole life invested in it finally comes to realize the true nature of the system after his black worker is killed. He shows us how once the truth is exposed this man's whole life is dramatically changed and profiles his struggles in tyring to confront the state apparatus. This story is a must read for anyone seeking to understand the political and racial climate of pre-Independence South Africa and the social dynamics that conspired to maintain the status quo of the day

"Une saison blanche et sèche" is a book written in 1979 by André Brink who had been prohibited from publishing it, in South Africa. On the face of it,it's a very full novel, built on a fascinating intrigue which leads to fundamental problems in the country of apartheid:individual liberty; the difficulty in communicating between the black and white races, and between the social classes;... It's a tragic but touching book which describes the realism in life for the apartheid in South Africa.

Andre Brink is one of the leading lights of white South African literature, a writer with a strong commitment towards social justice in a country whose black majority until recently could not have a say in its daily life. His celebrated 'A dry white season' stands as a monument of indictment of the 'apartheid' regime by exploring its consequences in the social dynamics and psychology of a white South African schoolteacher who takes upon himself to find out the whereabouts of his gardener's son and, then, the gardener himself. Anybody interested in 'apartheid' South Africa and in Brink's ouvre of moral commitment should read that novel; it would definitely be an excellent introduction to both.

With 'A chain of voices', Brink explores the dynamics of another oppresive regime: slavery. It is evident, however, that what Brink does in this novel is to go back to the institution of slavery to explore 'apartheid' in a similar way to 'A dry white season'. And what he finds, again, is ugly. At many levels, Brink tells us that any oppresive regime corrupts all human relationships, and that it can even transform--in a Frankenstein-like fashion--victims into victimizers. Not only is white pitted against black, but also wife against husband, father against children, brother against brother, and friend against friend. Brink brilliantly accomplishes this feat by giving voice to those that are senselessly involved in the oppresive dynamics of slavery, in a true 'chain of voices'.

The novel is set in the early 1800s in the Western Cape, in the beautiful area around Tulbagh and Worcester. From the very beginning, we know that three white men (two masters and one schoolteacher) have been killed by a group of slaves in a small-scale rebellion. What the novel does so well is to go back through the forces that led to that ending. In the process, one finds that the oppressor oftentimes is not aware of his oppression, that he is not enterely evil in the naive way that he is almost always portrayed, and that, incredible as it might seem, there is human side to him. On the other hand, one also finds that those that are oppressed are forced to commit acts of cruelty, even against those they supposedly love, in an effort to assert some power. In the end, however, everybody, but particularly the male characters, is a victim and a victimizer.

Even though I enjoyed the novel, with its deep psychological analysis of the characters involved, I found that the language seems too modern and sometimes too sophisticated for the 1800s setting. Also, there is some repetitiveness, particularly in the sexual domination of women. Despite this, I thoroughly recommend this novel to anyone interested in Brink's novels and the psychological consequences of oppressive regimes.

I read this novel in the eighties, when the power of the white minority regime in South Africa was still at its height. From the perspective of a liberal outsider there seemed to be nothing that could be said in favour of these people - they were stuck somewhere in the Dark Ages where the rest of the world could not reach them. A Chain of Voices put a somewhat more complex slant on the whole issue, but because Brink is a liberal as well as an Afrikaaner, refused to give an inch where apartheid was concerned. He doesn't stereotype people as villains or victims, but nor does he make excuses for them. He examines the evil of the system from the comparative safety of the distant past - the novel is set sometime in the nineteenth century and is based on a slave rebellion in which a slave owner had been murdered. Each chapter is taken from the perspective of a different character, slaves and masters, and Brink never fails to draw the sympathy of the reader to whichever character is being explored at any one time. Reading this book taught me that no matter how brutalised someone is, no matter how unpleasant they seem, they still have the capacity for finer feelings. They can still fall in love, they never lose the capacity to be hurt by those closest to them. You may find that this leaves you with even fewer excuses for their behaviour than ever, but what it certainly does is to bring their experience closer to our own. Modern-day evils such as racism, sexism, homophobia and religious bigotry are no longer out there being practiced by people who are not like us. They are much closer to home and we share a responsibility for them and for eradicating them. The strong moral ethos of the book aside, it is also a gripping read - all 500+ pages of it, there is much lush description of the South African landscape and there is a beautiful many-layered love story that doesn't have a cliche in it. It made me cry. Enjoy!

I expected this novel to be engaging not only because it was by Andre Brink, one of the most celebrated South African writers, but because it was also shortlisted for the prestigious Booker Prize. However, I was deeply disappointed with this chronicle of the relationship between a white woman and a runaway slave because it becomes, almost right from the beginning, cliched, repetitive, and affected.

'An instant in the wind' is a novel of exploration at two levels. On the one hand, it explores the beautifully cruel South African landscape between the Great Fish River and Table Mountain, passing through the Tsitsikama region and the Karoo Desert; on the other, it intends to explore the psychology between blacks and whites and men and women in the South Africa of the mid-1700s--and, by extension, of 'apartheid' South Africa. Brink's thesis appears (and I emphasize that word, appears) to be that only extreme situtations bring people together, making us forget our racial and sexual differences. However, nothing really illuminating is said, and the very ending is extremely ambiguous, causing one to wonder if Brink did't play a trick on the reader with respect to the intentions of the female character. If he did (and I'm inclined to believe that he did), then the ultimate message of the novel is extremely nihilistic.

Is there anything redeeming in this novel? I found the descriptions of nature superb. The Tsitsikama and Karoo truly come to life the way Brink describes them, and Table Mountain becomes truly magnificent. This background, perhaps, makes the novel worth reading.

What is it that makes South African authors incapable of happy endings?

Having read and enjoyed JM Coetzee's bleak "Disgrace" I found Brink's novel in a second hand shop and went to work. In subject matter it is a blending of two Patrick White novels - "Voss" about a doomed journey to the (Australian) interior, and "A Fringe of Leaves" about a white woman's life among Aborigines after a 19th Century shipwreck.

In Brink's hands, in 1750, a naive but spirited white woman from the Cape accompanies her Swedish explorer husband into the upmapped interior, only to find herself alone when the husband dies and the Hottentot retainers head for the hills.

She is found by a runaway slave, Adam, who for reasons of his own agrees to set off with her to the Cape.

Brink vividly describes the country through which they must travel. Against its physical presence, the couple become lovers. All of this is good fun. Brink was writing at a time when black/white relationships were forbidden under apartheid law. Indeed, the book for a while was banned. He delivers us a vintage love story, full of sex and spirit. (Funny how Coetzee, 25 years later when inter-racial sex is no longer verboten, sees the politics of such relationships in an entirely different way).

As Brink signals in the opening pages, however, there is no happy-ever-after. If there had been (the story purports to be based on truth), South Africa's history might have been different.

At times, the writing has less to do with black and white than purple, especially as Brink creates a seaside idyll for his pair, but for my money it's a grand read. It recalls a time when white South African liberals believed if only people could see their true nature everything would be all right.

Coetzee's darker - and more recent - version is that WHEN people are most true to their nature, South Africans have much to fear.

A wonderful read. A powerfully written love story between a slave and a white woman in 18th century South Africa. The South African landscape is revealed in all it's harshness and beauty. The story of the two characters are based on fact which makes the story even more phenomenal. A masterpiece.

Brink's novel is incredibly descriptive. I was in Paris when I read the book and could clearly see in its pages the city, its allure--and its more seedy side.

He captures wonderfully both the intrigues of diplomatic and Parisienne life. Romance, misty nights, closed-door meetings, Pigallian night clubs, political leverage, French bistros, scandal...it's all there! The story does lag in parts, but Brink generally keeps the tempo moving.

The first life of Adamastor is a fable mostly set in the late 15th century about the first meeting between the native people of Southern Africa and the explorers from Europe. It is a tale clothed in the myth of Adamastor, which first appeared in European literature in the 16th century. It is a tale about the main character T'Kamais (bigbird "that never came to rest"), and his relationship with s lost Portuguese woman.

What makes this tale different from many other accounts is that the tale is told from the viewpoint of the African Khoikhoin, and not the Portuguese. This makes an interesting contrast to "Verkenning" of Karel Schoeman (see my review). Verkenning describes (in historical detail) the exploration of Southern Africa from a Dutch explorer's point of view (set a couple of centuries after Adamastor).

This book is written with Brink's subtle sense of humour never far from the surface. However, the story has a very sad undertone - the misunderstanding between different peoples with different cultures and their different belief systems and mythologies.

Easy to read and enjoyable, Adamastor is highly recommended.

This is a very strange book. The narrator is a true anti-hero, a loser who seems determined for some reason to visit a lost and utterly remote enclave of inbred people. He does make it and right away sees a vision of a beautiful woman whom he later learns is Emma. Most of the book relates the interviews he has with all the strange characters tho why they would all tell him all their intimate secrets when they fear and distrust strangers is hard to accept. Another strong annoyance with me at least is the constant use of expletives in totally gratuitous ways. In quoting a conversation, OK, but not so unnecessarily in the narrative. I will say that the climax was well done and kept me turning the final pages but it was only stubbornness on my part that kept me going that far. Maybe only the people in South Africa would appreciate this one.

I very much enjoyed Brink's novel "Devils Valley." A strange story that keeps you on the edge, wondering what is going to happen next. Magic, ghosts (looking and acting much like real people), and a gritty realistic texture to the location and people are combined with significant social insights and total unpredictability to make Devils Valley as _novel_ a book as any I've read. Brink's examination of local history and journalistic writing also delves into some interesting domains: for example, where and how much is it proper to delve into people's personal affairs.

I'm a bit surprised that other readers didn't look at this book as more of an attempt by the author to describe a place that is more literally an aspect of the title itself.

SPOILERS: Brink does not answer the question of whether we are reading about one person's hell (or purgatory) or not, but there is much in the book that hints that the main character, Flip Lochner, is in his own personal hell. We are told very little about Flip's previous life, as one example, other than that his wife kicked him out of the house, and that he has a grown son and daughter that no longer have much to do with him. Is Flip meeting other people that are involved in independent familial beatings and rapes, or are these people simply projections of his own past? There is much in Devils Valley that is hard to read, but it is done in a smart, engaging, questioning way. A great book, with much to think and ponder on.

I wasn't even sure at what parts I was supposed to supend my disbelief. Brink weaves a South African Boer mythology that makes the Greek version seem mundane. Like all mythologies, it explained a culture. His story of a village of secluded and inbred hyper-calvinist helped me to understand the Boer. And I don't mean that in a bad way. They were obviously a rugged God-fearing jihad going people, tougher than nails, living shrapnel. He brings you into their world view through the stories they use to explain it. This book is mighty.