Litnet

André Brink tells the story in letters to Anthony Akerman (1973-1976)

Introduction

I got to know André Brink at Rhodes University when I was a student in the Speech and Drama Department. His lectures on Federico García Lorca’s Yerma and Luigi Pirandello’s Six characters in search of an author were erudite, edifying and inspiring.

Although he was an academic – he was a senior lecturer in the Department of Afrikaans/Nederlands – I always thought of him as a writer. Not that I’d read anything he’d written. But I did see him performing in one of his own plays – Elders mooiweer en warm – in 1969. The reason it was being done at a university theatre with students and staff was that he was having problems getting his plays staged by the Performing Arts Councils. The boards were wary of the modern (foreign) ideas he and other Sestigers were exploring in plays.¹ It was a form of censorship without openly admitting it was censorship. If the pusillanimous members of the board disapproved of the ideas expressed in a play, all they had to do was say they didn’t believe it was of a sufficiently high artistic standard. Outside of the state-subsidised Performing Arts Councils, it was virtually impossible to get serious plays professionally produced.

I got to know André first as a mentor and then as a friend. After I left to go to theatre school in the UK, we corresponded regularly, as he was interested to hear first-hand accounts of new plays and productions in London – and I valued his perspective on what was going on back home.

When I left the country, André was 37 and I was 23.

A new novel

On 6 August 1973, André mentioned he’d just received the galley proofs of a novel he’d written and said he hoped it would be out in late September. It was hard to keep up, because his output was bewilderingly prodigious.

In the decade following the publication of his first major novel, Die ambassadeur (1963), much of his creative writing had been for the theatre. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, choosing to go back to the novel as a form of literary expression – rather than a play – was undoubtedly in part because of the unofficial censorship he’d encountered at state-funded theatres. In the same letter, he told me that the Cape Administration Performing Arts Board (CAPAB) had just postponed a scheduled production of his latest play, Pavane.²

Prior to legislated censorship, the Customs Management Act (1913) prohibited the importation of articles that were considered “indecent, obscene or objectionable”. Similar situations obtained in the United Kingdom and the United States where, in 1922, copies of James Joyce’s Ulysses shipped from France were impounded in Dover and New York.

Legislated censorship in South Africa began with the Entertainments (Censorship) Act of 1931, which was enacted primarily to “regulate cinematograph films”. However, in 1934 powers under this Act were extended to include imported books and periodicals. It was under this legislation that Stuart Cloete’s Turning wheels – considered an offensive portrayal of Voortrekker conduct on the Great Trek – was banned in 1937.

Taken together, the Suppression of Communism Act (1950) and the General Law Amendment Act (1963) were used to ban people and a banned person’s words could not be quoted. That was a particularly brutal form of censorship. The novelist Lewis Nkosi has described how, when he left the country, a blanket ban was imposed on all his writing. This was a fate he shared with other black writers who left the country on exit-permits.

In 1954, DF Malan’s apartheid government established a Commission of Inquiry into Undesirable Publications – the Cronjé Commission – and their recommendations resulted in the enactment of the Publications and Entertainment Act of 1963, which established the Publications Control Board. Only recently did it occur to me that the word “censorship” used so unabashedly in 1931 had now been supplanted with the deceptively euphemistic notion of “control”. During the decade in which this Act exercised control over publications, 8 768 were declared undesirable – ie, banned.

According to Peter McDonald’s The literature police (2009), the first local novel to be banned was An act of immorality.³ Des Troye – nom de plume of Simon Meyerson – was soon joined by Wilbur Smith, Nadine Gordimer and a rollcall of many of the most prestigious writers in world literature.

Although the Publications Control Board did receive complaints against several Afrikaans literary works – including Etienne Leroux’s 1962 novel Sewe dae by die Silbersteins, Breyten Breytenbach’s collection of poems Die ysterkoei moet sweet (1964) and André Brink’s novels Lobola vir die lewe (1962) and Miskien nooit (1968) – during the first decade, no Afrikaans literary work had been declared undesirable. That was all about to change.

As he corrected the galley proofs of his new novel, André would have known that a head-on collision with the Publications Control Board was looming. It was no longer going to be a case of the pusillanimous ooms and tannies on the boards of the Performing Arts Councils intoning the artistic merit mantra; this was where phrases such as “offensive to the reasonable and balanced reader” and “prejudicial to the safety of the state” would be used when determining the desirability of a publication.

Parliamentary Committee on Censorship

Cabinet had put a new bill before Parliament to replace the Publications Act of 1963. The intention was obviously to close any loopholes. In the letter in which he mentioned correcting the galley proofs, he wrote:

I’ve got to go up to give evidence to the Parliamentary Committee on Censorship. Haha. They’ve obviously asked me only to be able to say that they’d consult “all shades of opinion”. But still, I’m going to try my damnedest. For the amended Act, due to come out next year, may be the last nail in our little literary coffin.

On 6 September, I received a letter from him asking:

How’s your Afrikaans nowadays? Would you like a copy of the novel? I don’t envy the readers! – It’s 500 pages! – but if you feel like tackling it, I’d love to send you one.

Although I don’t think I’d read anything in Afrikaans since 1968 when I did first-year Afrikaans/Nederlands at the University of Natal, I obviously said I’d love to receive a copy.

Publication of Kennis van die aand⁴.

On 23 September, he reported on the book launch. The novel was published by Buren Uitgewers, a small independent publishing house run by Daantjie Saayman. At the time, he was also Breyten Breytenbach’s publisher.

My few days in Cape Town were hectic and I’m still trying to sort out fact from fiction through the slowly lifting alcoholic fumes. The first few prepublication copies of the novel were supplied, and we celebrated through three days and nights …! I’m expecting my full quota later this week, then I’ll send yours off straight away. It’s a rather bulky tome for airmail, so it’ll have to come by sea.

In a day and age when postal services worked astonishingly well, I received the book in late October. It was a thrill, as it was the first autographed book I’d ever received from an author – and it remains a treasured possession. On 2 November, André wrote:

Glad you got the novel and am eager to hear your opinion. It has been wonderfully received here so far: most reviews talk about “world literature” and all that jazz. I hope to translate it in the course of next year. … We’ve still not heard anything from the censors, but the Old Ladies Who Complain normally don’t read very fast and as it’s rather a hefty tome it may take some time … Anyway, the first impression has sold incredibly well and it will probably be reprinted in January.

Kennis being scrutinised by censors

I was impressed by the novel and obviously wrote and told him so. I probably read slower than the Old Ladies Who Complain because by the time I’d finished it, it was – as he wrote on 2 January 1974 while on holiday in Cape Town – being scrutinised by the censors.

I hope to be able to start on the translation of Kennis after our return, for I’d like to have it with the publisher by June/July. The first impression has been sold out. The second is held up till we have a verdict from the fucking Censors, who are scrutinising it now. It’s been a rather hectic few weeks, what with the long-expected storm over the book suddenly exploding – resulting not only in its being reported to the Board, but to the Security Police as well!

Hope we’ll get some clarity soon. Anyway, it’s been quite amusing to read about the “transgressions against the Volk”, the “high treason”, “the undermining of state security” etc etc perpetrated in the book!! “A very strange society”, indeed.

Kennis banned

The first impression of the novel was 30 000 copies. On 25 January, he wrote and told me a decision had been taken.

Kennis van die aand has finally been banned: the notice must still appear in the Government Gazette (probably next week), but the decision has been taken. “Taken”, not “announced”, for never before have I come across such a blank wall of stubborn silence. When no newspaper managed to get a leak from the Board itself, I telephoned the chairman of the Board Jannie Kruger, personally. Only to be told that the decision doesn’t concern me. I pointed out that it was, after all, my book and that I’d spent eight years writing it, and also that the printers could be losing a hell of a lot of money on a reprint if we were kept in the dark, but he couldn’t see that the matter affected me in the least.

Then – and this is pure Kafka, with more than a hint of Orwell added to it (only ten years early!) – he said: “The only way in which you can officially hear about a decision would be if you lodged a complaint against the book yourself.”

Anyway, finally somebody managed to squeeze the facts out of the female member of the Board and this morning it was confirmed that the ban is going through. Of course the book has been sold out for weeks now, so no one can take advantage of the lull before the official enforcement of the ban to stock up! Anyway, I’m typing away madly on the English translation now. Unfortunately I’ve got a hell of a lot of other work to get done too, so I won’t be able to seriously translate this before in about a month’s time. With luck I should have the MS ready by the end of April.

We’ll go to court, of course, and my publisher has already secured one of the top advocates in the country. It will cost an enormous amount, but the Transvaal Afrikaans writers⁵ have decided to launch a fund to help with expenses, and I find the solidarity wonderful (even more since it comes from people usually rather hostile to me).

Three days later – which is extraordinary given how busy he was – I received an aerogramme:

Short and businesslike, this one – after an incredibly hectic weekend with all the newspapers going more or less mad on the ban. I’ve started on the translation and want to have that done by the end of April. I’m feeling very happy about the first few pages. But hell, it’s a mammoth job!

It’s worth pausing for a minute to reflect that he’d just started the translation at the end of January and planned to have it completed within three months. That’s an approximate average of five pages a day, plus all his other work. In the same letter, he continued:

Did I tell you in the last letter that the Johannesburg writers have now launched a national fund to help cover the court costs? It’s a fantastic experience of solidarity all over the place. And I have a feeling that, in some way, this is going to decide something about a writer’s freedom in this country in future. The political overtones are becoming more and more obvious, with – already – a fight looming in the Cabinet: what with an election in the offing, they will now have to decide whether to present a verligte or a verkrampte image to the electorate – and that’s no easy choice in a time when pressure seems to be mounting. “Interesting times”!

Notice of appeal given

In a letter of 7 March, he wrote and told me they were going to appeal against the banning.

The storm about the book has died down a bit now that we’ve given notice of appeal and everything is sub judice. But now I’m immersed in the translation, prodded by the knowledge of a series of incredibly wonderful offers for overseas editions – Doubleday and Random House leading the list in the States and WH Allen in Britain. And the publisher has confidently promised all of them copies of the manuscript by the first week of April …! So you can imagine how it’s going here. I’m halfway today and there is a glimmer of a possibility that I may finish on time.

So, Daantjie Saayman had brought the deadline forward by 30 days, which would push his daily average up to approximately eight pages. Then, on 15 March, he wrote:

Still waiting for a date for our court case. Probably – as I believe I mentioned in my last letter – not before July or August. I think I also said we’ll lose in the Cape but have some hopes for an appeal to Bloemfontein afterwards. If not, I’m in debt for the rest of my life! Unless, of course, the book hits the jackpot overseas. Hold thumbs. I believe Newsweek is doing a story on it soon. Every little bit helps!

English rights sold

He obviously made the brutal deadline of the beginning of April, because by the 17th he wrote:

Good news about Kennis: WH Allen have bought it; in fact, they’re so thrilled with it that they are flying me out again for the launching. Probably in the Christmas season. Marvellous prospect.

On 21 May, he gave me some bad news and good news. The bad news first:

Have just got the Censor Board’s reply to our affidavits to the court case. Shit! Our main argument was/will be that it’s a novel, not a factual comment. Now they react by quoting about sixty pages from my previous writings – articles, speeches, lectures etc – to prove that for many years I have been advocating a breakthrough from the ivory tower aesthetic novel to an absolute engagé form in which SA reality will be exposed for what it is. Which is quite true, of course. But doesn’t give me much of a leg to stand on in the case!

And now the good news:

Publication date for the English edition has been set for 14 October. Best time of the year. So with a bit of luck I’ll be there again in the autumn. Hope to see you again.⁶

On 1 July, he clarified what they were up against at the appeal.

I may have to go to Cape Town this week to consult with the advocates: the Great Day is coming on apace. They’ve gradually moved away from the blasphemy and purely sexual charges, and are now going all-out for the political ones: offending the Whites by portraying them as brutes. Everybody KNOWS they’re such good, kind people, God’s own darlings, and all the rest. I’m beginning to look forward to it!

Report on the appeal⁷

The appeal was heard at the Cape Provincial Division of the Supreme Court on 5-7 August.⁸ André and his family were staying in Gordon’s Bay, and from there he wrote to me on 20 August.

The case has come, but not gone yet, what with judgement being reserved – and according to the advocates it may be months before the verdict is given. Not that I have much doubt about the outcome. We knew from the outset that the Judge-President would be against us – but even so we weren’t prepared for such blatant, abusive, aggressive prejudice from the bench. Even the newspapers commented on it, at the risk of being brought up for contempt of court. It really was quite incredible: within the first ten minutes, long before our advocate had even started to explain the book, the Judge-President said that in his view the whole book was pornographic, and an insult to Whites, and he openly hinted that even if we managed to prove that every single ground for banning advanced by the Censor Board was groundless, the Court would still find other reasons for keeping it banned. On the first day he admitted that he hardly ever read Afrikaans books; on the second day he added that he almost never read English books either (whereupon our advocate said: “In that case, my Lord, with respect, you cannot be regarded as an ordinary intelligent person”!). He kept on insisting that the judge portrayed in the opening section of Kennis was revealed as a scoundrel: in the process he did exactly the things I attributed to my fictitious judge, and more – and our advocate had to comment wryly that “such things do happen in real life, my Lord, even in this very court”.

Of course, that was the J-P’s main argument all the way: that the book was a direct factual comment on South Africa and not fiction, so he accepted every incident on face value and refused to budge.

The other judges were much less coarse. In fact, one of them, Steyn, the only reader among them, was quite magnificent. At the start of the second day, for instance, he said: “In the course of yesterday’s proceedings the Judge-President made some remarks which might have given the impression that the Bench has not been convinced by your arguments: just for the sake of balance I should like to make it clear that I don’t agree with him.” From then on a fantastic fight developed among the judges themselves: J-P Van Wyk’s brutality versus the suave, urbane, gentlemanly attitude of Steyn – with Diemont holding what Albee would call a delicate balance. He is a judge in the good old British tradition: really intent on hearing both sides before making up his mind. But he did make it clear that he found the violence in the book repulsive: said he could accept its artistic necessity and its motivation completely, but still it offended him. So there isn’t much hope.

The advocate for the other side was absolutely pathetic. (He still lives with his mother – if that gives you a picture of the man!) At one stage he attacked the “Neo-Marxist philosophy” of the book. Steyn interrupted in his quiet, gentle way: “Now, Mr Viviers, exactly what do you mean by Neo-Marxist? You realise it is a rather dangerous label to apply indiscriminately …” The poor man started stuttering, then said he wasn’t really sure, but that was what the Board had said, and as far as he knew it had something to do with Camus. Whereupon Steyn gave a compassionate little smile and said: “Now, really, Camus would have been the last name to occur to me in the context of Neo-Marxism …” Hell, the difference it made just to find a modicum of ordinary intelligence in that company!

It was a real circus – and great fun in a way; at the same time I experienced something of Josef himself [the novel’s protagonist – AA] in the way things which had been so intimate to one over many years were suddenly exposed in the most vulgar and brutal way imaginable …

It seems likely that they’ll hold back the verdict until the new Censorship Bill (now past) its Second Reading) has been passed: in that case an appeal would really be senseless, since appeal to the courts will have been abolished by the new Act. In other words, even if we won our appeal, it wouldn’t open any doors for others after us. So what’s the point? Costs already amount to about R12 000⁹, and I was shocked to hear, this morning, that the Fund collected for us hasn’t reached R5 000 yet, in spite of rosy press reports earlier. So already we are up to our ears in debt – I think I told you that the publisher and I are doing it 50-50. Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death!

After the trial we were simply too exhausted to move on: that’s why we’re still here.

New Censorship Bill

At the end of the month, back in Grahamstown, he wrote:

Nothing new on the court case. The new Censorship Bill is being RUSHED through at the moment, each clause more petrifying than the last. A delegation of Afrikaans profs, led by advocate De Villiers (boss of Nasionale Pers, and head of the SA legal team to The Hague some years ago: one of THE influential men in the Party) went to see Connie Mulder to plead for the bloody thing to be revised first, but Mulder refused. He admitted it was clumsily phrased and in need of revision, but said that, in view of the political profits the Opposition would make out of it if he were to delay the Bill, he had no option but to let it through as it stands. Hell!

On 27 September, he wrote:

The Verdict is expected next week. On Tuesday, in fact, the day the new Censorship Act becomes operative. How cynical can one get? One ray of hope is the rumour that the minority verdict may be so glowingly in our favour that our advocates may consider taking the case to the Appeal Court pro amico, for free. Costs so far amount to about R13 000 – of which I’ll have to fork out about R4 500, which, needless to say, I haven’t got. So without this gesture from the legal men we simply can’t appeal. Hold thumbs!

Appeal dismissed

The appeal against the banning of Kennis van die aand was dismissed on 1 October 1974, and he missed the London launch of Looking on darkness¹⁰. At the end of the month, he wrote:

So my London trip fell through, after all, much to my sadness and regret. I’d been looking forward to it so much. Anyway, the book is out. Have you seen it? Looks awful with all those sensational bits plastered on it like ads on a Tube station wall. But inside it looks nice. And I hope it sells well! Have just had the excellent news that the American rights have been sold for an astronomic sum, which will pay for all our court case bills and leave something in the kitty. Great!

The best news is that my film boss¹¹ … wants me to do the script for his next picture too, so that will involve some scenes set in the Miss World Contest. So I’ll be in London to see Miss World¹² crowned and all the rest, haha! … The main thing is that we should arrive there sometime in the course of the weekend starting Friday 15th September [November – AA]. Just for a week or ten days, but that’s better than nothing. I must get in some good shows. Will you be up in London at all during that time?

So much to write about – but time’s too short today. Perhaps we’ll have a proper chat in London. Else I’ll write a longer one, soon.

When we met in London towards the end of November, he gave me a copy of Looking on darkness, we went to see a young Ian McKellen’s mesmerising performance in the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of Wedekind’s The marquis of Keith and we agreed that I’d translate and then direct his play Pavane at the Sherman Theatre in Cardiff, where I was doing postgraduate work. He also gave me an introduction to Breyten Breytenbach, whom I met when I went to Paris over Christmas 1974.

’n Oomblik in die wind

While he was in London, he also spoke about new writing projects. On 11 February 1975, he wrote:

I’ve started the actual writing on Oomblik in die wind (Instant in the wind) that’s the one I told you about, the runaway slave and the white woman in the Cape interior in 1750. Working surprisingly well so far. I hope to have at least 150 pages done before Rhodes reopens on the 24th.

That’s approximately an astonishing 15 pages a day. He’d finished a draft of the novel by the time he wrote his next letter on 8 April.

Our new board of censors is functioning since – very aptly – 1st April. Quiet so far; but they’ll soon start getting their ugly noses into all sorts of arses, sniff-sniff. I’m having a quiet spell before tackling the revision of the novel. It’s so unusual having nothing urgent on my hands that I hardly know what to do about it.

On 1 May, he reported on the feedback he received from his publisher and speculated on possible trips to Europe:

Next year seems more possible, when the French translation of Kennis comes out. Especially if it coincides with the British publication of Instant in the wind (next May, hopefully): I’ve just started polishing it – after getting a highly positive report on the first draft (but with a hundred percent assurance, the publisher added, that it would be banned: it’s not very funny anymore … But I’ll have to cross that bridge after the text has been finalised).

Breyten Breytenbach’s Skryt banned

In 1972, the Amsterdam publisher Meulenhoff published Breyten’s Skryt om ’n sinkende skip blou te verf in the Poetry International Series. It’s doubtful if the volume was on sale in South Africa, but Prime Minister BJ Vorster took exception to a poem directed at him entitled “Brief uit die vreemde aan slagter”. On 22 June, André wrote:

I’m rather gloomy about the prospects of the novel in Afrikaans, publication-wise: for one of Breyten’s volumes of poems has just been banned, after being out of print for the last two years: so Big Brother is going out of his way to intimidate writers. It simply wasn’t NECESSARY to ban it – it would have been a disgusting thing to do anyway, but in the circumstances it’s pure absurdity. So what chances my book now has of even being printed, remains to be seen. Ora pro nobis.

Afrikaans Writers Guild

On 29 July, André wrote about the formation of a new Writers Guild and hinted at a strategy for countering censorship.

I had to fly up to Joh’burg for a gathering of writers (you would have read about it in your Star¹³) on a holiday farm near there, to form a new guild, organising ourselves in the face of the now really serious threat of censorship.¹⁴ I think quite a lot was achieved. Because, hell, things are really beginning to look pretty bad for the next few years. (Human & Rousseau have now considered my novel in its final state and the unanimous verdict of their readers is that it’s my best novel, but that it will definitely be banned. Jesus, do you realise what that does to one? O.K., it will be published overseas. But shit, why the fuck does one write a thing in Afrikaans? Now the MS is with some advocates to get legal opinion; then the publishers will have to decide whether they’ll risk sticking their necks out – to the tune of some R6 000.)

A week later I had to go up to Johannesburg again, for a conference arranged by Die Transvaler’s editor, getting writers, politicians and church leaders together. Very interesting; but disheartening too. The Government was represented by one of their verligte stars, the bloke who’s just been appointed Ambassador to France. And the shit he sprouted! If that’s verligtheid, then God save us from verkramptheid. He admitted openly that censorship was introduced as a political tool to minimise opposition. We all know that, of course; but they’ve always tried to use the morals of the Volk as a red (?!) herring: now they’re callous enough to admit the truth openly. Anyway, the Minister has now, as a result, agreed to meet two of our representatives – next week. Maybe some changes will be made. But I have no real hope: he’ll be too concerned to save face. And, after all, writers and writing are expendable commodities; so why should he try to accommodate us? In any case we’ve made it clear that if nothing significant is done about the law this time, it will be open confrontation and we’ll go underground. (Our Guild meeting was attended by EIGHT Special Branch blokes.) Interesting times!

On 6 August, I went to Amsterdam, initially to do some research into censorship in South Africa for the Anti-Apartheid Movement, but with the long-term plan of directing Athol Fugard’s play Statements after an arrest under the Immorality Act in Dutch. Unbeknown to me, on the summer’s day I arrived in Amsterdam, Breyten was already in South Africa on his underground mission. André told me how much he’d enjoyed his visits to Amsterdam, and then updated me on the literary scene back home.

Actually I feel well prepared for a spell in A’dam myself at the moment, having just spent several days on working through the page-proofs of the Dutch translation of Looking on darkness. Excellent translation, I must say. The publisher very urgently wants me to be there for publication, for my interview; but unless some of the other translations come out at the same time and the publishers club together to bring me out, I’ll have to watch from a distance – for I’ll be damned if I paid for the trip myself.

Incidentally, the Japanese and Turkish rights have just been sold, which I found very amusing indeed.

I only wish we could start making something out of the bloody book now. All royalties so far have gone into the trial costs and refunding the Writers’ Fund who financed us at the time; and there is still a good few thousand to go before we start seeing anything.

In the meantime Daantjie Saayman has accepted defeat and is going under: he’s started working for Tafelberg, and they’ll probably buy out all his stock as well. Very sad. But, lovable character as he is, his drinking habits were just becoming too much for a one-man business. He still owes me more than R3 000 on several years’ royalties which I’ll probably never see. And shit, I’m not writing for charity either.

In a way I agree with you about protesting against censorship instead of going under. On the other hand, it’s all very well to say one must keep on fighting openly. But if one book after another is just stopped, until it becomes nearly impossible even to publish in the first place (because publishers get scared), it changes the picture.

Already it’s been announced that Breyten’s Seisoen in die paradys won’t come out because of this fear. My own book may be suppressed. So where does one go from here? I’m all for keeping up the good fight all the time and on all fronts – but if we can’t get our stuff around in any other way, we’ll just HAVE to circulate it underground in addition to the open battle going on. In fact, much of the Broederstroom thing was involved with just that. And I think we succeeded in getting the newspapers off our tracks: in fact, several of them now accuse us of going “tame” or wanting to compromise. But that’s just what we need to be able to carry on an underground programme. No use doing the matter if all the papers know about it! I think I told you we had as many as eight Special Branch men at Broederstroom: so it’s a battle of wits in addition to everything else. All this in the Taalfeesjaar.¹⁵ The crunch is really here, and I can’t think it’s melodramatising things to say Afrikaans literature is now battling for its very survival.

Skryt appeal

André was not one of the people Breyten contacted when he moved around the country, so he was blissfully unaware of his clandestine activities as he prepared to appeal against the banning of Breyten’s volume of poems. On 15 August, he wrote:

Skryt: No problem in appealing on Breyten’s behalf: I’ve submitted my argument and am now waiting for the reply by the committee that banned the book; then I have a right to reply – and only then is the appeal heard. In terms of the new Act (you really should get a copy of it – Government Gazette Vol 112 No 4426, 9 October 1974) a person with direct financial interest in a banned work may appeal to the Publications Appeal Board. This is headed by a judge, assisted by a panel of 5 (including AP Grové and Anna Neethling Pohl) from which he chooses 2 assessors for every hearing. (The identity of the members of the committee which bans work is never revealed – one of the major iniquities of the system; and as such a committee need to consist of only 3 members and a simple majority is required, the opinion of two people in a country of – what? – 24 000 000, is sufficient to ban a play or film.)

As reasons for the ban (they’re obliged to give reasons to a complainant or an appellant) they gave the poem “Brief uit die vreemde aan slagter”, and the list of detainees who died in detention, which follows immediately upon the poem. They said these two “poems” were unacceptable in terms of the articles which describe it as an offence (a) to blaspheme or to offend the religious convictions or feelings of any section of the inhabitants; (b) to bring any section into ridicule or contempt (c) to harm relations between any section of the inhabitants; and to (d) prejudice the safety of the state, the general welfare or the peace and good order. (In my appeal I pointed out that this was ridiculously vague and insisted on specific indications of how and where the two “poems” in question contravened the relevant articles.) It’s interesting to note that they specified the illustrations were NOT considered bannable.

I’ve done my casebook on Kennis¹⁶, but now that Buren is folding up I have no idea what will happen to it. Hope Human & Rousseau may do it next year. But all the material is out of my hands at the moment.

And the judge presiding on the Appeal Board admitted in print that the new Act was, indeed, more stringent than its predecessor. (He also uttered the memorable sentence: “I have never been a great reader of fiction before, but I suppose I’ll have to read many more novels now – FORTUNATELY NOT FOR CULTURAL REASONS.”)

English translation of ’n Oomblik

Breyten was already being held in detention by the Security Police when André wrote to me on 22 August, although he only heard the news – as did Breyten’s parents – on the radio on Tuesday 2 September.

I’ve just finished a very thorough and, I hope, final stylistic revision of An instant in the wind, so that the final text can now be done (for once I’m having it done rather than bashing away at it myself) – having got a firm and most generous response from WH Allen. They seem to think it’s better than Kennis, also from a commercial point of view. Their advance is, in fact, two and a half times as much as that for Kennis! So it’s some sort of consolation in the midst of this dreary waiting for a decision on the Afrikaans one (the legal advisers are still poring over it).

Breyten’s arrest

On 4 September, André wrote at length about Breyten’s arrest, as he later did about the trial and appeals. As that is not directly pertinent to the topic of censorship, I have not quoted those parts of his letters.

I’ve had a semi-final decision from Human & Rousseau about Oomblik in die wind: in the light of these new directives of the Board they think it’s highly unlikely that they can proceed with my book, even if they regard it as my best … Their directors will meet next week for a final decision. In the meantime, the contract with the London publisher has already been signed and they’re most pleased with the book. But that’s really secondary. I’m an Afrikaans writer; I wrote my book for this society first of all.

What can I do if this second book also falls victim to the system? Is there any point in going on writing in Afrikaans? Must I switch permanently to English? Or should one go on and on, fighting them every inch?

More on the Skryt appeal

Uncertainty and speculation still surrounded Breyten’s arrest when André next wrote to me on 16 September – serendipitously Breyten’s birthday.

Am rather in the dumps since the news became official about the fact that Oomblik in die wind has definitely been turned down. The publisher was decent enough to tell the press he thought it was my best book and an “important” one and that he would have published it in any other circumstances – but the new censorship set-up makes it impossible.

Have just completed my final reply in the appeal against the ban on Breyten’s Skryt. It should come up for trial within a month now. I’m in the fortunate position that I have no chance in hell of winning – so I needn’t play for the judge’s favour: I can give it to them straight from the hip. And even if it leads to minagting van die hof at least I can get a few things off my chest. Those fucking censors have the same mentality as the bloke who slashed the Nachtwacht.¹⁷ God!

And on 22 September:

In about a month’s time the appeal on Breyten’s Skryt should be heard – then we’ll have a lot more dope. Did I tell you that they’ve changed the original charge? At first only 2 poems were indicted – after I’d replied to that they retaliated by saying practically the whole book is offensive. Impossible to win the case. But it gives one a sense of freedom not to have to try and win the judge’s favour. So knowing practically it’s a lost cause one can at least be absolutely and relentlessly frank about the whole thing.

Hints at possible future for ’n Oomblik

3 October:

Nothing new yet on the novel, but possibilities are being explored and I’m beginning to get more optimistic about publication in SOME form or another. Rapport offered to publish extracts, but I’m holding back for a while. I don’t think it really is the sort of novel which can be fragmented like that. However, if nothing else works (but I’m sure something will) I’ll consider it again. For the moment I’m holding thumbs that the book will attract some buyers at the Frankfurt Fair. The London publishers seem rather optimistic on that score. Hope they’re right. Kennis is doing extremely well in the States, review-wise; I haven’t heard any sales figures yet, though.

Our appeal on Skryt will be heard last week of October or first week of November, and I think we are going to have some electricity there!

Yes, my own work is being silenced. But not absolutely. I can’t write about it in detail, but exciting things are underway. And while I can still manoeuvre here I MUST stay here: leaving the country would immediately diminish my effectiveness by half, even though I may then be able to involve myself more actively in other directions and movements.

Breyten’s pending trial and the pre-emptive ban of André’s new novel began taking its toll on his spirits, as he wrote on 23 October.

Practically all my correspondence with my London publisher is intercepted and I have to adopt all sorts of ruses to get things through. It makes things all the more difficult here too, since I have a few interesting things going on – will inform you in due course; too dicey now – and a real cloak-and-dagger game has got to be played to keep it going. Keeps one alive, like a chess game. But it does get nerve-wracking in the long run.

I’m having a rather black spell at the moment. I thought I could get started on the new novel, but I find the prepublication ban on Oomblik has hit me harder than I first thought. A sort of numbness setting in. Knowing that the next one will be banned too, and that, more than anything I’ve done before, it MUST be written in Afrikaans, add to the general feeling of stupor. Aggravated by the Breyten story.

Skryt skyt die bult uit

The appeal against the banning of Breyten’s Skryt was due to take place a few weeks before Breyten went on trial.

The Skryt trial is set for 6 November, not 30 October as I was at first misinformed by some idiotic nail-varnishing secretarybird (“Haai, meneer, askies, maar ek het mos noudiedag ’n fout gemaak …”).

But even that was not to be, as he wrote on 11 November.

Two days before the Skryt trial. The “opposition” suddenly informed me I couldn’t represent Breyten: they’d accepted it all along on the strength of the authorisation he’d given me; now they “suddenly” discovered I had to have a financial interest in the book to appeal – or else I had to be a lawyer or hire one: which was ridiculous, since it would mean a postponement for the lawyer to acquaint himself with the case. So I thought I’d solve it by getting the Special Branch to hand a letter to Breyten for signing: transferring his interest in Skryt to me so as to give me a financial interest. (Just for the case, of course: I would have signed it all back to him immediately afterwards.) So I approached the Special Branch here and asked them to contact HQ and a go-ahead was given; I arranged for a letter to be handed in at their HQ (with the wonderful name of “Wachthuis”) – and set forth blithely on Wednesday [5 November – AA].

That afternoon the Publications Board got hold of me, apparently after trying to get me all day: the Special Branch had taken my letter not to Breyten, but to Percy Yutar¹⁸, the public prosecutor – who then promptly phoned the Board and instructed them to stop the Skryt case … – because Skryt was going to be used as evidence against Breyten in the trial, and so it was sub judice. Now, for the past fortnight the Transvaal papers have carried front page stories on the Skryt trial: one would THINK Sir Percy would have known about it in time to call it off. But oh no, they have to wait till the last second to cause the maximum inconvenience (I have to bear all the flight costs et cetera myself, of course). So there we arrived at the court on Thursday only to have the whole thing postponed sine die. I asked the court to record my indignation about the agterbakse way Yutar had acted … but that was about all I could do.

In the meantime, when I called the Special Branch HQ that morning to collect the (unsigned) letter, one Major asked me to call in immediately after the Skryt proceedings – want ons het so ’n paar sakies om met u op te klaar. So I went, and the big iron door was barred behind me; and when I asked for how long they wanted to interrogate me, they said, “O dit hang net van uself af.” This is the part I’d like to tell you more about, but not in a letter. Suffice it to say it was pretty ominous. We’ll talk about it someday.

By now you would have seen the indictments against Breyten. Looks fucking bad. My interrogators said my name was on Breyten’s list of people to contact in SA. They wanted to know whether he had sent anyone to contact me. I said no. Then they asked: What would you have done if he had contacted you? (What a question!!!) I said: It depends. All I know is what I would NOT have done and that is to tell you about it. Q: You mean to tell me if Breyten came to you and revealed he was engaged in subversive activities you would not have told the police about it? A: No. He is my friend. Et cetera … And the bloody cynicism of Yutar to say: The State won’t press for the death sentence. Hell!

Your latest letter arrived with the wax neatly scraped off and the envelope obviously steamed open. They don’t even bother to be sophisticated about it anymore. I expect a pretty grim period of this sort of intimidation ahead.

Breyten guilty

André attended what turned out to be the last day of Breyten’s trial and heard the guilty verdict on 25 November. The following morning, he wrote at length about the trial and that afternoon – after the judge had passed sentence – he told me he’d been given nine years despite the prosecution asking for the minimum sentence. In the same letter he wrote by hand, “My great news must still wait for another week or so.”

’n Oomblik published by Taurus

On 7 January 1976, he revealed the great news.

By now the Big News which I had to keep silent at the time, is no longer news. I presume you’ve heard that ’n Oomblik in die wind has been published. I did it on my own steam at first; then a few friends in Johburg rallied and took over.¹⁹ The whole project was undertaken in great secrecy – all cloak-and-daggery, with code conversations etc; and Rapport stepped in to help by asking for private subscriptions to the book at a stage when the printing was practically done. We did only 1 000, in a numbered, signed edition; and were flooded by orders. The result was that by the time the printers delivered the book the whole edition had been sold. (Obviously I’ve kept a copy for you, pending certainty about your address: now that I’ve got it I’ll airmail it within a day or so, possibly together with this letter, which I’m keeping until I can post it in the greater anonymity of the city post office.) Most of our profit – R2 500 – went into paying for Breyten’s trial, so I haven’t made anything out of the deal. But the book was given a life, and that’s the main thing. Now we’re just waiting to hear whether it’s got past the censors – I’m confident it will – and then we can launch a large second edition. Profits on that will be ploughed into publishing further titles endangered by censorship. So we’re in for quite an exciting time. May even acquire a secret printing press in due course.

This South African manifestation of samizdat outplayed the censors, as the entire print run had been sold out before anyone could direct a complaint to the Publications Control Board. But the Establishment was aware of what he was up to and ensured there was a post-publication fallout.

Smear campaign in the press

All this caused enormous tension, as you can well understand. But the real fuck-up was caused by the most incredible newspaper campaign against me I’ve yet experienced. In a leader in Die Vaderland, early in December, the editor asked, in an open letter to Vorster, and “on behalf of the volk”, for a Christmas gift in the form of “André Brink se kop op ’n skinkbord” – even if it required special legislation. From the very next day the Vaderland and its Pretoria sister, Hoofstad, launched a campaign to discredit me in all possible ways – even phoning the Rhodes principal to suggest I should be dismissed etc.

Add to that the bloody stupid mess the Government has got us into in Angola. And one may well ask: why stay on? Isn’t it becoming quite senseless? At the same time, even though it may be foolhardy, I can’t stomach the idea of giving anyone the impression that they’ve succeeded in making me run away. One must be realistic in the end. I’ve got to keep a cool head, also in view of my small children: their safety is more important than my own, as is their mental awareness, their scope for living with dignity. But if my very existence can cause such near-hysterical reaction, doesn’t it mean I’ve still got something vital to do here? Oh hell, it’s a tricky thing. Ora pro nobis!

If you ever have anything important to write, put the letter in another envelope addressed to Dr Gerhard de Jager, Department of Physics, Rhodes. That is, from the opening of Rhodes, end February. And keep it for special occasions!

By April, the Appeal Court had turned down Breyten’s leave to appeal his nine-year sentence. Simultaneously, his writing was enjoying unprecedented popularity. André wrote that Tafelberg and Perskor were reprinting his poetry in “vast impressions”. He continued, “Overnight he’s become the Establishment’s blue-eyed boy. Not HIS fault, of course. But it’s enough to make one puke.” Despite this impression, Breyten’s troubles were far from over as the Special Branch had set snares for him that would lead to his second trial in 1977.

Paperback reprint of ’n Oomblik

On the day before the Soweto Uprising commenced, André wrote:

Oomblik in die wind is coming out in a large paperback reprint in August: a small Joburg publisher²⁰ has taken it over and it promises to be a better-looking book than the terrible first edition! (They’re using the same type, though.)

On 4 August, he reported:

A small Joburg publisher has just brought out Oomblik i/d wind in paperback. Die Vaderland promptly featured a front-page story about the likelihood of the book being banned – with the result that nearly 3 000 of the 4 000 printed were sold in the first week!

Instant shortlisted for the Booker Prize

On 30 November, he wrote:

The Japanese edition of Kennis turned up last week – which is quite a thrill! And it seems a few new translations may be coming up soon. Instant has also started moving. You may have heard that it reached the shortlist for the Booker Prize in England. In the end David Storey got it; but to have reached the final list was already exhilarating – and it leaves something to hope for next time!

Coda

In 1977, Etienne Leroux’s Magersfontein, O Magersfontein! became the next Afrikaans literary work to be banned. The publisher appealed, but the ban was upheld by the Publications Appeal Board. The following year, John Miles’s satiric novel Donderdag of Woensdag – published by Taurus – was also banned.

In 1980, the supposedly more verligte Kobus van Rooyen replaced the pathologically reactionary Justice Lammie Snyman as chairman of the Publications Appeal Board, and when the publisher again appealed against the banning, Magersfontein, O Magersfontein! was unbanned. In 1982, Kennis van die aand was also unbanned, although with terms and conditions: only hardcover editions could be sold, and – somewhat problematic to enforce – no one under the age of 18 was allowed to read it. Presumably, once you were old enough to vote, drive a car and drink alcohol, you were resilient enough to withstand the novel’s onslaught on your worldview and moral fibre.

***

Excerpts from André P Brink’s letters used with permission of The André P Brink Literary Trust. The excerpts were edited for consistency and clarity, but to a large extent they are presented as close to the original as possible.

Press clippings curtesy of NALN.

Notes

¹ For example, in 1961, the National Theatre Organisation rejected Bartho Smit’s play Putsonderwater, as did the Performing Arts Councils after they were established in 1963. The first professional production was by Volkstheater Vertikaal in Ghent, Belgium, in 1968. A student production directed by Abraham de Vries at Rhodes University in 1968 was postponed after an actress sustained an injury. I saw the revival of this production at the Rhodes Little Theatre in 1969.

² The daughter of the British ambassador is taken hostage by a paramilitary group of revolutionaries opposing a fascist government in an unspecified South American country. With the play being essentially a debate on the morality and efficacy of violent revolution, this South American dictatorship would have felt uncannily familiar to South African audiences. What would have troubled the aunties on the boards of the Performing Arts Councils is that the dictator was called General Baltasár – and the prime minister of South Africa at the time was Balthazar Johannes Vorster.

³ Reference is made to this on p. 49 of Peter McDonald's book. I also refer the reader to his website: https://theliteraturepolice.com/.

⁴ A summary of Kennis van die aand / Looking on darkness

Since some readers may not be familiar with Kennis van die aand, we provide this synopsis by Izak de Vries:

The novel opens with a court case. The accused is Josef Malan, an actor classified as “Coloured”. Malan stands accused of murdering a young (white) woman, Jessica Thomson.

Josef refuses to deny the charges, refuses to defend himself and is fully aware that the gallows await him. In this regard Josef mirrors Mersault, the somewhat infamous character in Albert Camus’s L’Etranger.

As with Camus’s character, the court harps on the fact that Josef and Jessica had sex. In France it would merely have raised eyebrows; in South Africa such intercourse was illegal because Jessica was white. Brink was challenging the Immorality Act of the time, which forbade sexual intercourse between those classified as white and anyone classified other than white.

In Kennis van aand Josef tries to stage a play, called SA!, which is banned. The futile court cases against the banning, as described in Kennis van die aand, were to become a blueprint for the banning of the novel itself.

⁵ Die Afrikaanse Skrywerskring.

⁶ On a visit to London in early April 1974, André gave me a copy of his recently published Aspekte van die nuwe drama.

⁷ In 2016, Ted Laros published “Literary autonomy on trial: The 1974 Cape trial of André Brink’s Kennis van die aand.”

https://lawexplores.com/literary-autonomy-on-trial-the-1974-cape-trial-of-andre-brinks-kennis-van-die-aand/

⁸ This would be the last time an appeal against a decision of the Publications Control Board would be heard in the Supreme Court. The Act of 1974 established an in-house Publications Appeal Board to which all appeals had to be directed. André refers to this later in this letter.

⁹ Using the inflation adjustment calculator, R1 000 in August 1974 is the equivalent today of R61 555. In other words, the costs were approximately R740 000.

https://inflationcalc.co.za/?date1=1974-08-19&date2=2023-09-19&amount=1000

¹⁰ The English translation of Kennis van die aand.

¹¹ Tommie Meyer.

¹² Anneline Kriel, who would also star in the upcoming film Somer (1975).

¹³ At the time, I subscribed to a weekly edition of the Star.

¹⁴ This meeting – between 9 and 11 July 1975 – led to the formation of the Afrikaanse Skrywersgilde.

¹⁵ The centenary of the establishment of the Genootskap van Regte Afrikaners on 14 August 1875. In an aerogramme dated 22 August, André wrote, “The real father of Afrikaans among the Genootskappers, SJ du Toit, who did the most to get the language established and recognised, has nowhere been singled out for hulde. All the others were. But old SJ had the wrong politics, sympathising with Rhodes at one stage – so he’s been thrown out of the laager. The whole thing has been given a politico-religious character, with dominees and MPs in the role of speakers. No single writer was invited to the main Paarl festival! (Ampie Coetzee suggested that was because they didn’t have separate toilet facilities for writers.)”

¹⁶ I have no idea what happened to the manuscript of this casebook. I suspect it was not published.

¹⁷ Two days earlier – on 14 September 1975 – an unemployed schoolteacher with psychological problems had attacked Rembrandt’s The Night Watch in the Rijksmuseum with a bread knife.

¹⁸ Percy Yutar achieved notoriety as public prosecutor during the 1963 Rivonia Trial when Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life imprisonment.

¹⁹ These friends were Ampie Coetzee, Ernst Lindenberg and John Miles – writers and academics – who started Taurus Press in response to increased censorship. André’s novel was their first publication.

²⁰ Ad Donker Uitgewer.