Every now and then, be it when scrolling through Netflix or browsing in my favourite Exclusive Books (Hyde Park), a blurb just resonates with me and I know I will enjoy the offering. A case in point is The Promise, my new favourite fiction book, and the 2021 Booker Prize winning effort by South African author Damon Galgut. It was third time lucky for Galgut, after having been nominated for the award twice before.
My interest was piqued for two reasons:
- A South African author had won the coveted Booker Prize; and
- the story took place in Pretoria, where I spent many happy childhood summer holidays, often as an impressionable unaccompanied minor.
As a bibliophile I am ashamed to admit that this is the first Galgut novel I have read, but it definitely won’t be the last! His descriptive and wicked prose is something which keeps the pages turning and I can see why he is so highly regarded.
The novel is written in 4 parts, each revolving around the death of a family member. Along the way, we are transported through South Africa’s turbulent past, taking in Apartheid and the 1986 State of Emergency, the 1995 Rugby World Cup, the Truth and Reconciliation hearings, loadshedding and State Capture. In this respect, the book has similarities with Forrest Gump, as the reader is simultaneously entertained and given a brief history lesson.
The family saga centres around the Swart family and their farm outside Pretoria as the primary location. The eponymous ‘promise’ refers to the dying wish made by the matriarch of the Swart clan in Part 1 of the book, that their domestic servant be given ownership of a house on the family’s property.
The Salome character may as well have been a carbon copy of my grandparents’ domestic servant, Liesbet. Both were resigned to their disenfranchisement, despite their valuable role in the household. Even Salome’s son in the novel, Lukas, was strikingly similar to Liesbet’s wayward son James.
The book has no pretensions and the ubiquitous South Africanisms made me smile throughout. The foreign book reviewers must have had a Google tab open in order to decipher much of Galgut’s incredibly vivid prose.
Similar to the film District 9, the storyline will clearly resonate more deeply with a South African audience and a lot of the themes will not be fully understood by overseas readers.
There were times when I could close my eyes and be instantly transported to my grandparents’ kitchen or stoep and it seemed I was a part of the story as a member of the working class family he so expertly describes. I could almost smell the rain after a Highveld electrical storm which affected one of the protagonists.
The book is at times violent, although not as vicious as many of the foreign reviews make it out to be. I suppose this has to do with the fact that as South Africans, we are inured to a daily brutality in a way that most Westerners are not. I found the book to be funny, and after perusing other (foreign) reviews found myself questioning my sanity. The Promise’s uniquely South African aesthetic even seemed to offend some of the overseas reviewers. I am amazed that in these times of COVID, when South Africa is treated as a pariah, a narrative so localised and unapologetically South African has risen to the heights of a Booker Prize winner.
The vast majority of books that are made into films fail to transfer the power and essence of the writtten word, but I would love to see a film version of The Promise sometime in the not too distant future. This is a must for any South African’s bookshelf!
*Disclaimer*
As an insufferable pedant, I picked up a typo on page 51. Reference is made to the eldest sibling, Anton’s, “flies” being done up, it should be “fly”.