• Current Reads

      Life after Life Jill McCorkle
      This Is Your Captain Speaking Jon Methven
      The Starboard Sea Amber Dermont
      Snark David Denby
      Bring Up the Bodies Hilary Mantel
  • Popular Tags

  • Recent Reflections

  • Categories

  • Moleskine’s All-Time Favorites

  • Echoes

    sumithra MAE on D.H. Lawrence’s Why the…
    To Kill a Mockingbir… on [35] To Kill A Mockingbird…
    Deanna Friel on [841] The Price of Salt (Carol…
    Minnie on [367] The Rouge of the North 怨…
    travellinpenguin on [841] The Price of Salt (Carol…
    travellinpenguin on Libreria Acqua Alta in Ve…
  • Reminiscences

  • Blog Stats

    • 1,040,015 hits
  • Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 1,727 other followers

  • Advertisements

[615] A Dry White Season – André Brink


” Today I realize that this is the worst of all: that I can no longer single out my enemy and give him a name. I can’t challenge him to a duel. What is set up against me is not a man, not even a group of people, but a thing, a something, a vague amorphous something, an invisible ubiquitous power that inspects my mail and taps my telephone and indoctrinates my colleagues and incites the pupils against me and cuts up the tyres of my car and paints signs on my door and fires shots into my home and send me bombs in the mail, a power that follows me wherever I go, day and night, day and night, frustrating me, intimidating me . . . ” (III 7, p.237)

Set against the Soweto riots of June 1976, A Dry White Season is a direct indictment of South Africa’s racist regime. The book gives reader a chilling glimpse into the inner sanctum of the racially segregated country’s ruling class. What A Dry White Season gruesomely reveals about this regime is utter defiance of our accepted premises and basic conditions—that society is based on order, on reason, and on justice. And that, whenever anything goes wrong, one can appeal to an innate decency, or common sense, or a notion of legality in people to rectify the error. But the government portrayed in this novel obliterates such decency completely.

But as far as Gordon is concerned, here I’m actually working on him day and night. It’s not a passive relationship, I’m actively involved with him every moment of my life. (III 5, p.220)

Ben Du Toit, a white Johannesburg school-teacher, is a typical suburban family man with a wife and three children. Although disinterested in politics, he lives in a placid withdrawal but not without conviction. Shortly after the Soweto riots, Ben is inevitably involved with politics, as Gordon Ngubene, a black janitor at Ben’s school, asks him to help locate his son Jonathan, who has disappeared. The teenager was last seen among the protestors at Soweto. From the outset, authorities stall and give them conflicting reports, being evasive about the cause of Jonathan’s death. Obsessed with his son’s mysterious death, Gordon continues investigation on his own. He, too, is arrested, and the affidavits he has collected to prove that his son had been detained in jail, not shot in the riot as police had stated, are confiscated. Later Gordon “confesses” to being a terrorist and officials say, commits suicide.

Or is this yet another symptom of my madness? That I am no longer able to think anything but the worst of my adversaries? That in a monstrous way I’m simplifying the whole complicated situation by turning all those from the ‘other side’ into criminals of whom I can believe only evil? (III 11, p.267)

From here the novel reads like a Kafkaesque nightmare, with an ominous sense of foreboding, as Ben irretrievably plunges into the labyrinth of bureaucratic duplicity and official deceit, manipulation and violence. To thwart him from further investigating Gordon and Jonathan’s death, the Special Branch wages a campaign of intimidation on him. The most arresting of the book is Ben’s descent from respected family man/teacher to isolated pariah. The fall of a moral man best serves to expose the corrupted system’s inflexibility and fear of people it sets out to persecute. The book not only evokes racial injustice, but also raises a larger issue: do we capitulate and become silent accomplices in the face of injustice?

316 pp. Harper Perennial. Paper. [Read|Skim|Toss] [Buy|Borrow]


4 Responses

  1. I’ve been wanting to give Andre Brink another try since reading his most recent novel, Philida, which I struggled to enjoy – I felt like there was a better writer underneath some of the book’s missteps. It sounds like this might be the one to go with.

    • A Dry White Season is very readable but also gruesome. It’s almost like reading a true crime book. I was looking of another title for which he was shortlisted for Booker but found A Dry White Season instead.

  2. This has been on my target list. Thanks for sharing this. Nadine Gordimer’s works also bring out the problems that were encountered in apartheid South Africa

  3. This is a difficult boo to read in terms of poignancy. I was biting my lips from time to time, heart skipping a beat to see what horrifying incident might unfold.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: