Litnet

"That is a gift from the grave of history, not the promise that the dead can be restored, or that the past can be made innocent, but the knowledge that their lives need not end with them. Someone can still bear witness."

Apartheid’s granddaughter is not a story of guilt or absolution, but of courage and repair. It’s an invitation to white South Africans to face their inheritance with honesty and courage.

Proposed chapters can be in any language and take the form of creative writing (poems, short stories or other texts), personal reflective essays, academic studies or translations of her poems (three to six poems, with an accompanying reflective or academic essay on the translation process).

"This latest wave of gender-based violence has sent me back to a book I read a few years ago: Cristina Rivera Garza’s Grieving: Dispatches from a wounded country, translated by Sarah Booker. I haven’t been able to put it down since."

"She heard the beep of an electronic lock, assuming it was the room next door. Her own room door opened. Shockingly, unexpected."

"The problem was that Benny had no intention of sticking to his minor role. Every time he walked onto the page and into a scene, he lit it up and made things happen."

"It is much more than a singular thriller or whodunnit, having the depth of conflicting and diverse multi-voiced stories that link to Shalom Court in an impoverished society."

"I give a lot to my readers, treating them as guests who enter my imagined spaces, in the way I would welcome them into my voorkamer, reading to them while offering biscotti and Turkish coffee."

"Doggone days is an anthology, a florilegium, of vibrant seeing in its colour photos, enhanced by Darryl’s use of the artistic/photographic triangular structure to create powerful vistas, landscapes and portraits."

"The inclusion of real historical figures and intertextual references add an evocative depth that will linger in the memory of this reader. Nonfiction teaches by means of facts; fiction, by means of imagination. Multitudes confirms this."

"Deane allows her readers to breathe and take note of their bodies (disabled or not). We look forward to what comes after 'but' from Deane’s pen."

"Multitudes is home to many things: It is a collection of layered histories, philosophies, thoughts on architecture, intertexts and a place for love stories to nestle."

"Lastly, I am stupefied as to why it took me so long to read Faulkner, and am happy I began with Absalom, Absalom!. We both seem to be using the historical novel to explore how the violence of the past survives within the lives, memories and identities of later generations. Both our novels treat history as a fragmented, contested inheritance, reconstructed through memory, oral stories, silence and competing perspectives."

"Every rand that flows into your hands is a choice. Just make sure that you actually want the things you’re spending money on, and that you’re not just living out someone else’s script of adulthood."

"Warn them," Dean repeats. "If you use AI, your work might not be protected." "Don’t do it," Downie says. "Respect your own work. Respect your fellow writers’ work."

"Cape Town can be proud of many attractions, but the Open Book Festival is a gem that is a rare example of what the rainbow nation and Ubuntu are. This festival is the highlight of our year not only as writers, readers and artists, but as a community. Even if it is your first time attending, you know that you will find your way into the literary community and meet new people."

Her debut novel was Rootless. Her second novel, Half lives, is the subject of this interview.

He moves between Cape Town and Europe, tracing the footsteps of his dispossessed peoples who once sought justice in a language not their own. In his journey from past to present, Phila carries ancestors, ghosts of former selves and the grief of his wife’s death.

What do two poets, united by poetry across the ocean, have to say about our place in the world and the urgent need to transform it in our image?

The narrative unravels the identities and traumatic histories of both victim and killer, while tracing the web of stakeholders tied to the building — its residents, owners, police, and local government officials — each with their own legal and political stakes in its fate.