In a recent piece on The Bookseller, Graeme Neill reported that UK supermarket chain Tesco aims to double book sales to £200m within three years. Tesco has a 6% share of the UK book market by value and 10% by volume, which puts it close to overtaking Borders and becoming the UK's fourth-largest bookseller behind Waterstone's, WH Smith and Amazon.
In view of the aim to boost a book-reading culture in South Africa, I wondered what would happen if South Africa's national supermarket chain Pick n Pay started stocking books...Read more here
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
Saturday, 19 July 2008
Powerful exposé of a prostitute’s life
A review of Whiplash, Tracey Farren, Modjaji Books
Whiplash is a first-person narrative cast in the form of a letter from Tess, a Muizenberg prostitute and Syndol addict, to her mother. In the beginning of the book, Tess assures her mother: “I’m gonna tell you all about it, Mom. I’m gonna tell it like I’m on the end of the bed, talking to you. I’m not gonna cover up ... I’m warning you, Ma, this is the truth.”
This introduction encapsulates the tone of the book: intimate and frank, simple and colloquial, as well as cold and brutal, hallucinatory and complex. The world of prostitution is, after all, often one of violence, abuse, addiction, neglect, desperation and rejection.
As Tess recounts her daily experiences of picking up clients, we learn what it is like when you have to give freebies to the police to avoid a R500 fine for loitering or how a quick R50 blow job means the rent will be paid in full that month. Every time Tess gets into a client’s car there is also the risk of being beaten up, raped, contracting HIV or worse, as in the case of her friend Amanda, who was murdered. But this is a risk prostitutes take, as is the risk of pregnancy when a condom breaks, which is precisely what happens while Tess is giving a freebie to the policeman Hanif. For Tess the only option is to have an abortion at the government clinic.
A key theme in the novel is vulnerability, especially that of the outcast in a cold, corrupt and uncaring society. In the opening paragraphs Tess recounts how her mother told her “keep your fanny closed, else the birds can fly in”. But birds here are not just an obvious phallic symbol, but also one of aggressive and destructive intrusion.
Throughout the novel, Tess recounts memories of her childhood in KwaZulu-Natal, of her ailing mother and her stepfather Graham, the domestic worker Gladys and her best friend Dumi. It is, in many ways, a familiar story of innocence betrayed, but in Whiplash it is made more horrific by having some unpleasant and ugly truths thrown in our faces.
Some of the brutality depicted in the novel comes close to feeling like a physical blow, as in the description of Amanda’s murder and the discovery of her body: “Shit, some guy split her from her throat to her belly button. Popped out her eyes. Left her buried in the sand at Clovelly. Some mom was collecting sand for her kid’s sand pit. Dug up her loose eye...”
The description of a four-month-old foetus being aborted is worse: “It’s like a jigsaw puzzle kid. Tiny thighs, perfect feet. Torn off arms. Some messy bits that are maybe its tummy, mashed up ...”
However, the violence is not restricted to Tess’s environment. There are references to the war in Iraq and we are reminded of the civil war in the Democratic Republic of Congo through the painful memories of the refugee Madelaine. There are some strong, colourful and haunting characters in the book, such as Tess’s friend and fellow prostitute Bonita. There is also the prostitute Annie, the policeman Hanif and the impotent client Limp Lennie, as well as Tess’s mother, Graham, Gladys and Dumi.
Whiplash is a powerful, often disturbing book. It was rejected by a number of commercial publishers which felt its brutality and frankness would be too strong for the local market. Instead, it has been taken up by independent publisher Modjaji Books and already sales are being negotiated for Australia and the UK. Tracey Farren’s debut novel could well become a bestseller.
(First published in The Weekender, July 19, 2008)
Whiplash is a first-person narrative cast in the form of a letter from Tess, a Muizenberg prostitute and Syndol addict, to her mother. In the beginning of the book, Tess assures her mother: “I’m gonna tell you all about it, Mom. I’m gonna tell it like I’m on the end of the bed, talking to you. I’m not gonna cover up ... I’m warning you, Ma, this is the truth.”
This introduction encapsulates the tone of the book: intimate and frank, simple and colloquial, as well as cold and brutal, hallucinatory and complex. The world of prostitution is, after all, often one of violence, abuse, addiction, neglect, desperation and rejection.
As Tess recounts her daily experiences of picking up clients, we learn what it is like when you have to give freebies to the police to avoid a R500 fine for loitering or how a quick R50 blow job means the rent will be paid in full that month. Every time Tess gets into a client’s car there is also the risk of being beaten up, raped, contracting HIV or worse, as in the case of her friend Amanda, who was murdered. But this is a risk prostitutes take, as is the risk of pregnancy when a condom breaks, which is precisely what happens while Tess is giving a freebie to the policeman Hanif. For Tess the only option is to have an abortion at the government clinic.
A key theme in the novel is vulnerability, especially that of the outcast in a cold, corrupt and uncaring society. In the opening paragraphs Tess recounts how her mother told her “keep your fanny closed, else the birds can fly in”. But birds here are not just an obvious phallic symbol, but also one of aggressive and destructive intrusion.
Throughout the novel, Tess recounts memories of her childhood in KwaZulu-Natal, of her ailing mother and her stepfather Graham, the domestic worker Gladys and her best friend Dumi. It is, in many ways, a familiar story of innocence betrayed, but in Whiplash it is made more horrific by having some unpleasant and ugly truths thrown in our faces.
Some of the brutality depicted in the novel comes close to feeling like a physical blow, as in the description of Amanda’s murder and the discovery of her body: “Shit, some guy split her from her throat to her belly button. Popped out her eyes. Left her buried in the sand at Clovelly. Some mom was collecting sand for her kid’s sand pit. Dug up her loose eye...”
The description of a four-month-old foetus being aborted is worse: “It’s like a jigsaw puzzle kid. Tiny thighs, perfect feet. Torn off arms. Some messy bits that are maybe its tummy, mashed up ...”
However, the violence is not restricted to Tess’s environment. There are references to the war in Iraq and we are reminded of the civil war in the Democratic Republic of Congo through the painful memories of the refugee Madelaine. There are some strong, colourful and haunting characters in the book, such as Tess’s friend and fellow prostitute Bonita. There is also the prostitute Annie, the policeman Hanif and the impotent client Limp Lennie, as well as Tess’s mother, Graham, Gladys and Dumi.
Whiplash is a powerful, often disturbing book. It was rejected by a number of commercial publishers which felt its brutality and frankness would be too strong for the local market. Instead, it has been taken up by independent publisher Modjaji Books and already sales are being negotiated for Australia and the UK. Tracey Farren’s debut novel could well become a bestseller.
(First published in The Weekender, July 19, 2008)
Wednesday, 16 July 2008
Tuesday, 08 July 2008
Velvet to be screened at the KZNSA Gallery
Aryan Kaganof’s film Velvet is based on a cut-up prose sequence called April in the Moon-Sun by poet Gary Cummiskey.
Composed in 2002 and originally published on the online literary journal, donga, April in the Moon-Sun is characterised by astonishing surreal images that shift between London and Johannesburg. Throughout its hallucinatory pages lurks the whore-spirit, Dirty Girl.
When donga went offline in 2006, Cummiskey published April in the Moon-Sun through his Dye Hard Press. The print run was limited to 100 copies, one of which was sent somewhat belatedly to Kaganof.
Towards the end of 2007 Kaganof announced his intention to make a short text film which would be his interpretation of the work. In January this year, Velvet was born.
Lasting 11 minutes and 32 seconds, containing electronic music by US experimental duo Matmos and culminating in what Kaganof describes as “physical poetry” by US porn star Taylor Rain, the film begins in total darkness with background sounds reminiscent of John Cage’s work, and which hint at what is to come.
From darkness – nothingness – is born the word, as the text of April in the Moon-Sun starts to appear on screen. The music of Matmos, a track titled Burroughs, reflects the cut-up nature of the work. The spirit of Dirty Girl is invoked as she starts to appear in the narrator’s brain.
From the word is born the image – the physical manifestation of Dirty Girl, played by Taylor Rain, who engages in some naughty, dirty exploration. Dirty Girl’s sudden appearance after about six minutes of text comes as a shock to our eyes just as her activities may come as a shock to our bourgeois sensibilities.
Velvet will be screened at the KZNSA Gallery, in Glenwood, Durban, from August 5 to August 24.
Composed in 2002 and originally published on the online literary journal, donga, April in the Moon-Sun is characterised by astonishing surreal images that shift between London and Johannesburg. Throughout its hallucinatory pages lurks the whore-spirit, Dirty Girl.
When donga went offline in 2006, Cummiskey published April in the Moon-Sun through his Dye Hard Press. The print run was limited to 100 copies, one of which was sent somewhat belatedly to Kaganof.
Towards the end of 2007 Kaganof announced his intention to make a short text film which would be his interpretation of the work. In January this year, Velvet was born.
Lasting 11 minutes and 32 seconds, containing electronic music by US experimental duo Matmos and culminating in what Kaganof describes as “physical poetry” by US porn star Taylor Rain, the film begins in total darkness with background sounds reminiscent of John Cage’s work, and which hint at what is to come.
From darkness – nothingness – is born the word, as the text of April in the Moon-Sun starts to appear on screen. The music of Matmos, a track titled Burroughs, reflects the cut-up nature of the work. The spirit of Dirty Girl is invoked as she starts to appear in the narrator’s brain.
From the word is born the image – the physical manifestation of Dirty Girl, played by Taylor Rain, who engages in some naughty, dirty exploration. Dirty Girl’s sudden appearance after about six minutes of text comes as a shock to our eyes just as her activities may come as a shock to our bourgeois sensibilities.
Velvet will be screened at the KZNSA Gallery, in Glenwood, Durban, from August 5 to August 24.
Wednesday, 02 July 2008
Three into one just about goes
The number of visitors to the third Cape Town Book Fair climbed by 1,000 on last year to 51,000 – a welcome increase, especially as the fair seemed to have got off to the slow start. This is encouraging, and so congratulations to fair director Vanessa Badroodien and her team.
The fair consists of three components: a trade fair for the publishing industry, a retail fair to the public (which started up only last year), and literary discussions and talks which can be enjoyed by writers and readers alike. This is a huge, challenging task which requires outstanding organisational skills, and it is hard to please everyone...Read more here
The fair consists of three components: a trade fair for the publishing industry, a retail fair to the public (which started up only last year), and literary discussions and talks which can be enjoyed by writers and readers alike. This is a huge, challenging task which requires outstanding organisational skills, and it is hard to please everyone...Read more here
Monday, 30 June 2008
Contemporary South African poetry: at risk of being silenced
This piece originally appeared as Dye Hard Press Newsletter 11 and covered a panel discussion on contemporary South African poetry which took place at the first Cape Town Book Fair in 2006.
I think the issues raised are still relevant, if not more so.
At the 2006 Cape Town Book Fair, a panel discussion was held in which the situation of contemporary South African poetry and publishing was debated. The members of the panel were PR Anderson, Hale Tsehlana, Arja Salafranca, Allan Kolski Horwitz, Vonani Bila and Kelwyn Sole. The discussion was chaired by Helen Moffet.
PR Anderson kicked off by stating that commercial publishers in South Africa are reluctant to publish poetry, regarding the market for the genre as being ‘illusionary’. He said that as most poetry in South Africa these days is read in schools, the focus should be on how best to communicate poetry to this market. Electronic publishing via the internet was one means he suggested.
While I agree with Anderson’s basic premise – that commercial publishers regard the poetry market in South Africa as being illusionary – I question a few issues. Firstly, it is important to consider that commercial publishers would define a market as a financial equation (a profitable return over costs) as opposed to defining a market as a potentially receptive audience. I can understand the position of commercial publishers (considering that while they are in the business of publishing books, their primary objective is to provide shareholders with a return on investment) but it is regrettable Anderson did not mention the role of local independent publishers in getting poetry out to readers.
Secondly, by offering an argument about poetry being mainly read in schools, we risk running into a mindset whereby poetry is regarded as little more than a scholarly learning exercise.
Next, Allan Kolski Horwitz took us back to 1974, when a similar poetry panel discussion was held in Cape Town. Back then, the panel consisted solely of white males, and while one or two papers focused on poetry in a societal context (such as one on ‘Poetry and Africa’ by Douglas Livingstone) the majority tended to focus on topics such as ‘Satire in the poetry of Roy Campbell’ or ‘Satire in the poetry of Thomas Pringle’. In a nutshell: poetry as a topic for academic study, rather than as an activity intrinsic to the political, cultural and socioeconomic environment in which it is created.
Happily, Horwitz noted, we have moved on from there, as poetry of the 1980s-1990s can testify. However, in the past few years, there has a reactionary swing back to the notion of poetry divorced from the environment in which it is created, an academic-based poetry that tends to shy away from everyday topics such as crime, injustice, poverty and sex. Horwitz cited a title by Botsotso Publishing, Isis X, an anthology of poems and photographs by contemporary South African women. The anthology received an extremely negative review in The Sunday Times by a woman critic who regarded the anthology as an unfortunate by-product of the ‘new democracy’ that allows everyone to become a poet. The contributors were dismissed as performance poets (though none of the poets in the anthology could be classified as performance poets), adolescent and sex-obsessed. Clearly, the ‘new right-wing reactionaries’, as Horwitz calls them, regard sex as a topic unfit for poetry.
The contributions of the two women panellists were brief. Hale Tsehlana emphasised the need for women poets to publish their work, and Arja Salafranca endorsed Horwitz’s view of a reactionary tendency against a poetry that deals with everyday issues. Salafranca’s collection The fire in which we burn was attacked by a woman reviewer who objected to a personal poetry that dealt with issues such as relationships, sex and menstruation.
Kelwyn Sole also endorsed Horwitz’s views, but added a further dimension. For Sole, South African poetry is equally in danger from commoditisation. Recently we have witnessed an increase in government-sponsored poetry competitions dealing with issues such as HIV/Aids, and it seems government has recognised the value of poetry as a means of getting its message across. Furthermore, a poem criticising government policy would not be likely to win a government-sponsored competition. Poetry in SA is in danger of becoming a marketing tool of those in power.
I agree with Sole, but it is not only government that has caught onto the value of poetry – corporates have also leapt on the bandwagon. In an earlier newsletter on funding, I highlighted the danger of receiving corporate sponsorship for poetry publishing. After all, a corporate is hardly likely to wish to sponsor poetry that, for example, attacks the abuses of corporate capitalism.
Vonani Bila stated that as a black poet he is expected to sing the praises of the new regime. He has been criticised for writing poems that deal with crime, joblessness and poverty. He is expected not to criticise the government for failing to deliver on its promises. As Bila pointed out in the poetry journal New Coin, if the current government were to adopt the same totalitarian stance as the Nationalist Party, he and several other contemporary black poets would find themselves in prison.
Between the extremes of a reactionary mindset that views poetry as being divorced from the realities of everyday life and a mindset that views poetry as a marketing tool, true poetry – a poetry that is concerned with truth telling and engages with the environment in which it is created – is at risk of being silenced.
Gary Cummiskey
© 2006
I think the issues raised are still relevant, if not more so.
At the 2006 Cape Town Book Fair, a panel discussion was held in which the situation of contemporary South African poetry and publishing was debated. The members of the panel were PR Anderson, Hale Tsehlana, Arja Salafranca, Allan Kolski Horwitz, Vonani Bila and Kelwyn Sole. The discussion was chaired by Helen Moffet.
PR Anderson kicked off by stating that commercial publishers in South Africa are reluctant to publish poetry, regarding the market for the genre as being ‘illusionary’. He said that as most poetry in South Africa these days is read in schools, the focus should be on how best to communicate poetry to this market. Electronic publishing via the internet was one means he suggested.
While I agree with Anderson’s basic premise – that commercial publishers regard the poetry market in South Africa as being illusionary – I question a few issues. Firstly, it is important to consider that commercial publishers would define a market as a financial equation (a profitable return over costs) as opposed to defining a market as a potentially receptive audience. I can understand the position of commercial publishers (considering that while they are in the business of publishing books, their primary objective is to provide shareholders with a return on investment) but it is regrettable Anderson did not mention the role of local independent publishers in getting poetry out to readers.
Secondly, by offering an argument about poetry being mainly read in schools, we risk running into a mindset whereby poetry is regarded as little more than a scholarly learning exercise.
Next, Allan Kolski Horwitz took us back to 1974, when a similar poetry panel discussion was held in Cape Town. Back then, the panel consisted solely of white males, and while one or two papers focused on poetry in a societal context (such as one on ‘Poetry and Africa’ by Douglas Livingstone) the majority tended to focus on topics such as ‘Satire in the poetry of Roy Campbell’ or ‘Satire in the poetry of Thomas Pringle’. In a nutshell: poetry as a topic for academic study, rather than as an activity intrinsic to the political, cultural and socioeconomic environment in which it is created.
Happily, Horwitz noted, we have moved on from there, as poetry of the 1980s-1990s can testify. However, in the past few years, there has a reactionary swing back to the notion of poetry divorced from the environment in which it is created, an academic-based poetry that tends to shy away from everyday topics such as crime, injustice, poverty and sex. Horwitz cited a title by Botsotso Publishing, Isis X, an anthology of poems and photographs by contemporary South African women. The anthology received an extremely negative review in The Sunday Times by a woman critic who regarded the anthology as an unfortunate by-product of the ‘new democracy’ that allows everyone to become a poet. The contributors were dismissed as performance poets (though none of the poets in the anthology could be classified as performance poets), adolescent and sex-obsessed. Clearly, the ‘new right-wing reactionaries’, as Horwitz calls them, regard sex as a topic unfit for poetry.
The contributions of the two women panellists were brief. Hale Tsehlana emphasised the need for women poets to publish their work, and Arja Salafranca endorsed Horwitz’s view of a reactionary tendency against a poetry that deals with everyday issues. Salafranca’s collection The fire in which we burn was attacked by a woman reviewer who objected to a personal poetry that dealt with issues such as relationships, sex and menstruation.
Kelwyn Sole also endorsed Horwitz’s views, but added a further dimension. For Sole, South African poetry is equally in danger from commoditisation. Recently we have witnessed an increase in government-sponsored poetry competitions dealing with issues such as HIV/Aids, and it seems government has recognised the value of poetry as a means of getting its message across. Furthermore, a poem criticising government policy would not be likely to win a government-sponsored competition. Poetry in SA is in danger of becoming a marketing tool of those in power.
I agree with Sole, but it is not only government that has caught onto the value of poetry – corporates have also leapt on the bandwagon. In an earlier newsletter on funding, I highlighted the danger of receiving corporate sponsorship for poetry publishing. After all, a corporate is hardly likely to wish to sponsor poetry that, for example, attacks the abuses of corporate capitalism.
Vonani Bila stated that as a black poet he is expected to sing the praises of the new regime. He has been criticised for writing poems that deal with crime, joblessness and poverty. He is expected not to criticise the government for failing to deliver on its promises. As Bila pointed out in the poetry journal New Coin, if the current government were to adopt the same totalitarian stance as the Nationalist Party, he and several other contemporary black poets would find themselves in prison.
Between the extremes of a reactionary mindset that views poetry as being divorced from the realities of everyday life and a mindset that views poetry as a marketing tool, true poetry – a poetry that is concerned with truth telling and engages with the environment in which it is created – is at risk of being silenced.
Gary Cummiskey
© 2006
Saturday, 28 June 2008
Saturday, 21 June 2008
Friday, 20 June 2008
A chronology of the most important events in his life: a review of Today is their Creator
Aryan Kaganof writes: "It starts with the cover. Nicola Deane has described it as 'rough, edgy and seductive'. And that’s a perfect description of the kind of verse assembled by Gary Cummiskey in the 26 pages of Today is their Creator" ...Read more here
Tuesday, 17 June 2008
The 9th Letter: a review of Today is Their Creator
Goodenough Mashego writes: "Dye Hard Press founder and poet of serious note Gary Cummiskey writes about 'minister's daughter stoned on crack', then moves on to write about 'so we slip down behind the counter/ and start to fuck', then jumps and writes about '...we watch the girl in the backroom sticking a knitting needle up her hole'. All in one book, titled Today is Their Creator"...Read more here
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