Karoo

Book Review

The Plains of Camdeboo: The Classic Book of the Karoo, by Eve Palmer, Penguin Books

“Few people have had the good fortune to be born in a desert. I was.”

So starts Eve Palmer’s tale of the Karoo, a semi-desert region, stretching across the Western and Eastern Cape provinces of South Africa. The word Karoo is derived from a Khoisan word meaning “land of thirst”, and though I wasn’t born there, I have had the good fortune to pass through it a few times, travelling between my family’s permanent home in dry diamond filled Kimberley, and their coastal vacation home.

The Plains of Camdeboo is an almost exhaustive account of life in a place thought to be without life. The Karoo is arid and seemingly colorless, yet Palmer paints a world of color and movement, full of birds and plants, and tales of lions and explorers. “…[O]urs is a country of life. We have only to walk or ride into the veld to know this and be caught up in its pattern: the squat, fat, angled plants; the hunting spiders that flicker between them;… the pale and wild gladioli; the cobras; the scorpions; the mantis coloured like a flower;… the koringkrieks lurching on immense and crooked legs. Here moves a steenbok, a duiker, a springbuck, a lark clapping its wings above us;... the smell of rain, wild asparagus; mountains and hills floating in a mirage of water; a white hot sky, the sound of cicadas and wings and wind.”

Her descriptions are extensive. Entire chapters are devoted to nothing but cobras or one species of tree. While the thoroughness might be tedious, you can’t help but get absorbed in her anecdotes. Instead of reading like a scientific study, you feel as if you were there at Cranemere Farm, alongside her family, the farm’s workers, and its many visitors as they divulge its histories and the charm of this unique area. These accounts read like poetry, and can only come from someone who truly values this world around her. I can relate, having grown up on a farm myself. There are patterns in nature that repeat themselves throughout the seasons, things to look forward to or mourn as the year moves on. There are details that are only realized upon close and frequent observation. Palmer sees order in the workings of nature. Her prose is heavy with science, yet what makes her work readable is her enthusiasm for both wild and tame, and the realization that some things lie “…in the realm of speculation, mysticism, and faith. The Karoo breeds few atheists. Perhaps this is accident and its plant and animal world, so bizarre and yet so methodical, plays no part in this at all; or perhaps, unguessed by its people, the pressure of a great plan is about them.”

Truth

Book Review

Freedom, by Jonathon Frazen, Fourth Estate

 After reading The Corrections, by Jonathon Frazen, many years ago, I couldn’t help but share this book with others.  A friend of mine, after taking the recommendation, didn’t see things my way, and remarked, “But there aren’t any likeable characters.” To which I replied, “That’s the beauty of it.” At the time, I was living in sea of negativity, finally seeing the world without rose-colored glasses, studying, listening to an angry ex-boyfriend’s rants, reading the other sections of the newspaper… and I wanted this kind of book, to feed my indignation and confirm my outlook on life. It was comfortable for me.

 Now, years later, after reading Freedom, Frazen’s fourth novel, I couldn’t help but look back on my old attitude and wince.  This is a book with deeply realized characters. They’re like the grizzly car accident you can’t help but peer at over your shoulder, on the highway. There might be small fragments of yourself you see in them, which is profoundly disturbing, and like The Corrections, who are you supposed to like? Of course, we often watch movies full of pitiful characters. We are let down by their actions but secretly take pleasure in the fact that we’ve got it all worked out a little better, but a book is different. A book is a commitment. You carry it around in your bag, reasoning it is something worthwhile to do, when what you’re doing right now isn’t really worthwhile. You go to bed with it. You spend your weekends together. Surely you should like someone in it?

 Well it certainly couldn’t be Patty, married to irresolute Walter Berglund, yet grieving for something with indifferent Richard Katz that was never realized. Their children, neighbors and lovers are no less forgivable. But Patty takes the cake here. She is too honest with herself, too free in her thinking. While the others around her suffer at her ire, they too finally give themselves permission or the freedom to stop being “good” as they see it. They tell the truth or find it.

 It’s not to say that I didn’t keep coming back for more of this car crash. This book is highly readable. It’s the kind of book I felt guilty spending so much time with. Not the sort of contemplative type of story meant to be savored, but more of a power-read. I really liked it, and the most satisfying part was instead of getting enjoyment out of pitying characters, I could take satisfaction from recognizing in myself a new positivity. I didn’t feel good about Patty, Walter and Richard, but I sure felt good about myself.

Shipwreck

photo: Cobus Botes

for Sunday Scribblings

Why was that woman crying? (See Despair, August 21.) What happened? Did she find out someone had died? Did her boyfriend break up with her? Is she coping with a life threatening illness? Fortunately, I’ve been very lucky and blessed in my life. What I recognized on her face, her sorrow, is something I’ve felt only when hurt by someone I cared deeply about. It’s the feeling of panic, when you can’t really breathe steady, when you can’t even imagine staying afloat again. Sometimes the damage is irreparable, sometimes a temporary patch does the trick, and at others you just have to keep bailing until you reach shore. Of course, though it’s hard to recognize the value of this at the time you’re going down, we grow the most when the ship needs a complete overhaul. Also, others can learn from our mistakes, and in fact new life develops and is sustained by the wrecks we leave behind.