With the publication of Kafka's Curse, Achmat Dangor established himself as an utterly singular voice in South African fiction. His new novel, a finalist for the Man Booker Prize and the IMPAC-Dublin Literary Award, is a clear-eyed, witty, yet deeply serious look at South Africa's political history and its damaging legacy in the lives of those who live there.
The last time Silas Ali encountered Lieutenant Du Boise, Silas was locked in the back of a police van and the lieutenant was conducting a vicious assault on Silas's wife, Lydia, in revenge for her husband's participation in Nelson Mandela's African National Congress. When Silas sees Du Boise by chance twenty years later, as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission is about to deliver its report, crimes from the past erupt into the present, splintering the Alis' fragile peace. Meanwhile Silas and Lydia's son, Mikey, a thoroughly contemporary young hip-hop lothario, contends in unforeseen ways with his parents' pasts.
A harrowing story of a brittle family on the crossroads of history and a fearless skewering of the pieties of revolutionary movements, Bitter Fruit is a cautionary tale of how we do, or do not, address the past's deepest wounds.
I'll admit I struggled with this one. Overall, it was an interesting read. The characters were well drawn and the story was compelling. And it seemed like an insightful piece of South African history.
But the author's writing style was...well, bizarre. There was this early fascination with farting -- the sound, the smell, it was distracting. And everyone seemed to be involved in, or contemplating, incest. Everyone. Then there was a chapter where the author seemed obsessed with smells: dogs, monkeys, people...at one point, Mikey smells that his mother is about to return to the house. He smells her. A mile away. In a taxi. Really?
I'm willing to grant a writer a certain poetic license but enough is enough. If you're interested in South Africa, you'd be much better served reading the works of J. M. Coetzee.
At a climactic moment of Achmat Dangor's novel, "Bitter Fruit" (2004), a secondary character relates a traumatic story which works to the following conclusion: "There are certain things people do not forget, or forgive. Rape is one of them. In ancient times, conquerors destroyed the will of those whom they conquered by impregnating the women. It is an ancient form of genocide." (p. 204)
In the novel, a rape which can neither be forgotten nor forgiven plays a central role. The violation of rape is important in itself, and it also serves as the defining metaphor for Dangor's picture of apartheid in South Africa and its consequence. The novel is set in the late 20th Century as South Africa struggles to emerge from its apartheid past. It is set against the background of the amnesty policy of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in which the evils of the past would be memorialized and acknowledged but without bloodshed. The hope was for the country to move on while minimizing vengeance, vendettas, or grudges.
The primary characters are Silas Ali, a former activist and attorney for the TRC, his wife Lydia, and their late adolescent son Mikey who mid-way through the novel begins calling himself Michael. Silas and Lydia are both of mixed racial background but are otherwise quite different from each other. About 20 years before the story begins Lydia had been raped by a white policeman, Du Boise, in the presence of Silas who was unable to prevent the outrage. Then, 20 years later Silas runs into the aged Du Boise at a supermarket and a confrontation almost ensues. During the intervening 20 years, the couple had rarely discussed the incident which festered between them. The marriage was unhappy, sexually and otherwise. When Silas tells Lydia of his meeting with DuBois, something snaps inside both husband and wife. Lydia cuts her feet on broken glass, "dancing on glass" and is hospitalized. While visiting her, Silas has a stroke and is also hospitalized.
While his parents are hospitalized, Mikey, a brooding and introspective lad with an interest in literature finds his mother's diary and reads it. He has reason to think that he is the child of Du Boise's rape of his mother.
Besides the three primary characters, the novel offers glimpses of their family and colleagues. The latter part of the book includes a portrayal of the portion of South Africa's Islamic community which either sponsors or condones terrorism. Besides the pivotal rape incident, the book includes many scenes of other forms of sexuality, including child abuse, incest, bisexual and polyamorous relationships, closeted gay sexuality and more. Most of the sexual activity is of forms that are offensive as is most, but not all, of the sexual conduct itself.
The book was Booker Prize finalist. It offers a portrayal of the difficulties South Africa faces in moving forward and beyond its tarnished past. For the most part, I did not find "Bitter Fruit" convincing as a novel. Here are some of my reasons. Many of the individual scenes as well as the dialogue are sharp and crisp. But they contrast with the story line which drags. Other than the three primary characters, most of the other people in the book receive shadowy portrayals which distract from the story. In minute detail, the book describes the vileness and the long-term effects of rape and his analogy between rape and apartheid has some effect. The author is critical of the Truth and Reconciliation policy and he suggests that neither rape nor apartheid should be readily put aside without some attempt at what appears to be vengeance. The novel did not move me to share such a conclusion. Furthermore, the book's focus on the vile and debasing forms of human sexual practices, in addition to the rape on which the story turns, did not seem to me to add a great deal to the novel.
The novel's focus on the Ali family and on the various sexual issues of the family members and other characters also distracted from considering the book as a story of the difficulties of an emergent South Africa. The book was more the story of a sharply dysfunctional family. And the focus of the book wanders unconvincingly from Silas, to Michael, to Lydia. Lydia ultimately works to some degree of freedom from the rape and from her marriage in a brief sexual encounter with a young man after which she leaves Silas. The story line seems to shift from a metaphor about South Africa to a story of a woman in search of a difficult personal and sexual freedom. This is an inadequate denouement for the book. The story of apartheid and its aftermath encompasses people of many and diverse backgrounds as well as people of both genders. Overall, this novel does not succeed.
it was gooooood, once again, I am sure i would have liked it a lot more if i actually was in the mood for reading, which im not :))) harsh language and situations which made everythine more crude and realistic, a lot of incest and rape and bad stuff overall. It was interesting but yeah, nothing much to it (my brain is dead i was reading it just to finish it and so many things went over my head)
Really found this much more moving than the way rape was treated in Coetzee's Disgrace. Dangor introduces a fuller range of ethnicities in his South Africa. His treatment of life after sexual violence was nuanced; he shows the afterlife of that moment without dwelling on it as a pornographic episode. Instead it undermines a marriage, exposes the fault lines between two people who can only see each other refracted through that moment but somehow end up not seeing each other's pain (Lydia and Silas). Lydia's rage at her husband was sharp, exposing his masculine self-involvement and inability to see it as an event that happened to her body and continues to affect her mind. I also admired how that primal scene was layered into the descriptions of each character's sexuality--esp, the suspicion that attaches to a child born of that rape.
Short-listed for both the Booker Prize (2004) and the Dublin Literary Award (2003), it seems to me that, with an average rating of just 3.30 on Goodreads, this fine novel of post-Apartheid South Africa has been under-appreciated.
Dangor's prose is very fine indeed, articulate, intelligent and evocative, and the many themes he presents in his novel are challenging and thought provoking.
This is not just the story of Silas Ali, his wife Lydia and son Mikey (who became Michael), but also the story of a nascent independent nation trying to find its feet, to come to terms with its racist, separatist, colonialist past, and to forge a new identity and national paradigm under the leadership of Nelson Mandela.
The story begins at a time when Silas, who now works for the new government, supporting the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, comes face to face with Du Boise, an ex-officer in the security forces of the old oppressive regime, who brutally raped Lydia while Silas was locked in the back of a police man, hearing her screams.
This encounter, which Silas mentions to his wife, stirs up old memories and begins a process that further erodes the fragile cohesion of the couple's marriage.
Meanwhile, their son Mikey, who is fast becoming a young adult, discovers some of his parents' old secrets, including the rape of his mother, and comes to understand better his father's previous role in the underground movement that fought so hard to end the Apartheid regime.
He becomes a sexual animal, finding that he is able to seduce and bed older women. He embarks on a journey of sexual education, while disdaining the women who sleep with him. He also becomes aware that a young female friend has been involved for some years in an incestual relationship with her father, mostly voluntarily, but Mikey equates this parental abuse with the rape of his mother.
Mikey also chooses to explore his Muslim roots, despite being brought up in a household that is largely non-religious, although Lydia comes from a Catholic family. Mikey's growing connection to a local Imam serves his emerging anger, discontent and desire for revenge.
Meanwhile, Silas, approaching his 50th birthday, wearies of the strains of government work, the pressures of the Truth and Reconciliation process and the inevitable compromises that such a complex process involves, and worries about the end of Mandela's term and the changes in policy that will be invoked by the incoming President.
Lydia continues her dedicated work as a nurse, gets promoted to a new role, gains further independence having her own car, and seeks some fulfillment that has been missing from her relationship with Silas. Estrangement seems inevitable.
Dangor has had plenty of important things to say in what is, at under 300 pages, not a very long novel. And he says those things very eloquently indeed. There is certainly plenty to like about this book.
The title is appropriate - there is a plethora of bitter fruit to be devoured in this novel. It is forthright, honest, at times visceral, and frequently very sexual, but never titillating.
Good novel, well written, about a family coping with the new South Africa. Particularly interesting about the adolescent son, and the mother. In fact all of the family are well drawn, complex people. Detailed description of extended family life, of government (Truth & Reconciliation), good on sex. Recommended.
A really bitter and convoluted reality, as we witness the interpersonal struggle, as well as the question of identity, of a family who is slowly and irrevocably rotting away... until the bitter end. There is no resolution.
This is one of those books where it's more than a 3 and less than a 4 in terms of ratings. Achmat Dangor gets emotional squalor very well. He's able to provide the agony that comes with mulling over things you cannot change and let that define who you are.
We're shown 3 people- Lydia, Silas and Mikey who are defined by certain instances in their life. Lydia, religious, showing sexual passion towards a nun, a person who was raped at 18, is convinced her son is born of the rapist though has no proof, loathes her husband who was present when she was raped and who she feels did not do enough to stop it. Silas, married to Lydia, holding an important job in the new South African government, born to a Muslim father and a 'white' mother catches himself colour coding people and behavior.
Mikey, 19 and truly messed. Sexual awakening being in the form of an aunt with whom he had a 'chaste' relationship of withholding, like Gandhi they say. And then some with other older women. And a slightly incestuous relationship with his mother.
I said emotional squalor, didn't I? Most of the book is gorgeous. I truly enjoyed reading it. But in the end it gets to a point where you give up, along with them. There's no redemption because no one simply seems to have the energy left.
This book really touched and inspired me, beginning as it does with a couple who have to revisit the wife's rape by a South African police officer during Apartheid. Dangor creates a sympathetic but unsentimental portrait of the wife Lydia, who suffers Catholic guilt and becomes more and more estranged from her husband. It is most powerful though in its portrayal of Mikey, the son of Lydia's rape, and increasing preoccupation with violence. The message of the book is that violence has long-lasting and irrevocable consequences, and that it should not be underestimated what an effect it has on families and communities.
This is a complex portrait of a post-Apartheid South Africa, still riven with racial and political and with a population impacted by trauma the country is ill-equipped to process. It is also a book upsetting obsessed with a kind of fantasy version of incest, in which teenagers - like everyone else - are willing and enthusiastic about situations which are, in real life, abusive, and in the end, it was more than I could take.
While I felt that the book had potential and there was some beautiful language, I did not enjoy it as much as I thought I would. It was an interesting look inside human pain and struggle, and the complicated ways we all deal with trauma. It moved painfully slow at times and I found it hard to become invested in most of the characters. I would not recommend this book.
This novel is like a slow waltz among contextual elements of relationships, struggles and expression in Dangor's bitter South Africa. I love its slow rythm so much, it is so powerful, so meticulous and analytical.
“Ah, how insufferable we must all have been back then, oppressed and oppressive, dark-faced and dark-minded because we could think of nothing but our suffering, the hallowed torment we wore like badges of courage. Your skin colour determined the colour of you soldier’s uniform”. - Bitter Fruit, Achmat Dangor . . I normally dont like slow pacing novel but i think this is one among other novels that i can tolerate its pace due to its context. I was so surprised to see the rating is so low in goodreads. The book is so powerful and haunting that i felt i might have a bit difficulty moving on to the next book. Reading 2 Non Fiction books about South Africa before picking up this book really help putting certain things in perspective.The book brought us exploring Post Apartheid South Africa together with Silas and Lydia, the main characters of the book. However, both of them dare not to confront their past during Apartheid. There’s a rape incident committed by South African Police Officer againts Lydia causing them to drift apart. This bit reminded me of Hindi Film Kaabil whereby the wife got raped but the husband couldnt handle the trauma more than the wife herself. They felt like their manliness has been taken away. Hence, rather than comforting their wife, they indulge themselves in an injured ego trip. We also explored the aspect of PTSD experienced by Lydia after the incident and Mikey’s discovery of his true identity. Through Mikey, we saw the struggle to reconcile the traumatic past of her mother and how it linked to him. This book is layers with so many issue that i am impressed how the author managed to insert it without causing the readers being discombobulated by it. The chapters progress with a constant changes POV of the characters, it took a while for me to get used to it. This would have been 5 stars for me if the incest scenes is not so frequently happen. I get why it happened and probably it is necessary to be part of the plot but i deducted it because i am not comfortable reading it. Overall, a highly recommended book. This is a slow burn literary piece that managed to captivate readers from the get go. You can see how family breaking apart from that one unconfronted past. The common theme that you might come across throughout the book is race, identity, sexuality, taboo, PTSD and religion. Bear in mind, that the time setting is during Apartheid and Post Apartheid hence some of the content is not easy to stomach.
So many elements of this book I like. First off, it takes place in South Africa after the ‘end’ of Apartheid, just before Nelson Mandela steps down from his term as president. Then, it is told (mostly) from the perspectives of those who, Black, White, and ‘Colored’ had fought the Apartheid regime. We have many books that deal with the years of turmoil before Mandela is released. This perspective was new to me, and very welcome. I like how unclear everything is, how uncertain people are, still feeling their way -- as life is for all of us, if we are honest. I also like how the author is very clear in declaring when a character is white, not so much for people of color. In fact, there are still characters for which I have no clear picture of what they look like in terms of skin color. I was fascinated at how not knowing at first bothered me, and told me that my being bothered is what I should be looking at. The ending is also unclear, most of the characters going off into a great change from what they knew, as was the country, with a new, second, Black president. It took me a while to get used to the constant changes in POV the author uses and I’m still not sure I like it. But it kept me on my toes and it kept me reading, and that’s a good thing, I think.
Quotes that caught my eye
Good men had done all kinds of things they could not help doing, because they had been corrupted by all the power someone or something had given them. ‘Bullshit,’ Silas thought. It’s always something or someone else who’s responsible, a ‘larger scheme of things’ that exonerates people from taking responsibility for the things they do. (3)
At least now that apartheid was gone, black and white suffered equally. (25)
His father is downstairs, fidgeting with the clock in the kitchen, always losing time, a genetic fault. Timepieces are like human beings, they have built-in flaws. (29)
Is that how he, too, will grow old? Will he ‘come of age’ by creating memories that fade into loving forgetfulness, like old emulsion photographs, blurring, softened with time? This process started a long time ago, he acknowledges. He also has an inventory of things kept in mind, an index of important things to remember. (42)
Lydia’s sourness had astounded Silas, and her gift for rhetoric, her knowledge of books, this quiet wife of his, the woman in the white tunic going off to work, to tend to the will and the maimed, uncomplaining Lydia with the long sexy legs. When did she read, when did she listen to music, when did she think about these things? Of course, behind the earphones when she did her chores at home, and probably in the dead of night, a book balanced on her knee in a pool of blue light, while her patients slept, her mind learning the schizophrenia of divided attention. One half of her alert to the noises of the ward, to the texture of people breathing, the regularity of heart-monitoring machines, always ready to drop her book or rip away her earphones. The other half absorbed in the brilliant edges of words quickly read, fragments of music held in her ear to be reunited afterwards, when an urgent task was done, into a continuous, melodious stream. (60)
… and shadows swarmed through the house, bringing their own peculiar, vibrating darkness, until he too felt the empty peace of having left things undisturbed. (64)
Alec loved the sensual feel of sweat on his skin. It made him think of the ‘grand’ days in the old townships, where people slept with wide-open windows, nights balmy, the breeze cool, life going by softly, shadows gliding along the street. The term ‘grand’ had nothing to do with grandeur, but with goodness and simplicity. The ability of people to understand each other and empathize – even when someone was doing things they disagreed with. Back then everyone recognized that the need to survive was paramount, so that breading the law, dealing in stolen goods, running fah-fee or owning a shebeen were all acts of survival, and every occupation had its own dignity. And survival in those days—if you were black – meant having to accommodate forces more powerful than yourself. Now moral zealots were running the world. They were always judging others, looking for something corrupt even in the effor4ts of ordinary people struggling to make a living. These fucken holier-than-thous have the luxury of jobs and good positions in government. Love to see them come and live – and survive – out here in the lokasies the world was being fucked, all for the sake of some vague principle. Law and order, its’ the joke that white sold us. Gave us the government, kept the money. Now we police ourselves. Look at the high walls and the barbed wire. Just to protect the misery we had all along. No wonder the crime rate’s going through the roof. (85)
Ah, how insufferable we must all have been back then, oppressed and oppressive, dark-faced and dark-minded because we could think of nothing but our suffering, the hallowed torment we wore like badges of courage. Your skin colour determined the colour of you soldier’s uniform. (94)
Anyway, the place had lost its softening purple haze much too soon, quickly reverting to the nakedness of its carefully laid-out criss-cross of streets, the usual array of triumphalist squares and shat-upon statures spawned by all pretentious political minds. The world over. Through the ages. (100)
How ready she had been to mock that caricatured lilt, to remind him that he had been in South Africa for over twenty years, and that summoning up a Belfast brogue now and then wouldn’t restore the Irishness he had abandoned for the love of apartheid money – hadn’t he been enticed out there by the old government, trying to increase the white population by bringing in the flotsam and jetsam of Europe? Well, he could go home now and fight his own country’s battles! (113)
…who knows what goes on in that part of the brain where worlds like ‘cunt’, ‘suck’, ‘suckle’ gather in their hordes, waiting to invade the innocent realms of the heart? (116)
The TRC report was due to be handed over to the president on the twenty-eighth day of October. We’ll make that date, no matter what, the Archbishop had said. Piety and determination. That’s how God made this crazy fucken world in seven days. (148)
She remembered the horror of his climax, the way he shuddered, his eyes closed only for an instant, as if her was afraid she might murder him in his moment of glorious incapacity. It that not what all men feel? A sense of glory when they come inside a woman, whether in consensual love or uninvited imposition? (156)
She sees in Mikey an enslavement to another, even more puritan God: his will. (167)
The Turks are Muslim, but back then they were Imperialists first, and Europeans on top of it. I suspect sometimes that they have not changed at all, they are still suffering a huge ident6ity crisis. Europeans with Arab noses. (199)
He recalls the predictions of a Sufi mystic: one day, evil incarnate will come in the guise of saviours, they will replace the science of the soul with the alchemy of the mind. These unbelievers will rule the world for a long time, and not only will they inflict mental and physical pain on true believers, and make them fight among themselves, but they will cause them to forsake their own children. (201)
…a man of many wisdoms. A good definition of schizophrenia. (241)
Then she was on the floor with the young man, dancing with him, a curious modesty in the movement of their bodies held so closely together. You only dare to do this if you have the skill, a perfect sense of timing, the ability to blend with your partner’s movements, and, if you are the woman, a willingness to abandon yourself to the man’s rhythm, the demands of his body. This kind of dancing flourishes in macho societies, Silas remembered reading somewhere. (262)
Things I couldn’t find
…you were just one of the ‘manne’, deserving of your privacy. (6) manne?
More likely because they don’t booze, and, in any case, Jackson was probably in his ‘high nines’ by now. (8) high nines?
I bet Lydia still snys you with them, hey? (24) Snys?
A confrontation brewing between ‘the Arch’ and people in the movement. (149) The Arch?
Look at a map, and you see a remarkable journey, a veritable hajerah. (203) This look to me like a version of the word haj or hajj but I can’t find hajerah anywhere.
(Review) 5/5! Harrowing and addictive. A story of a family impacted by violence during the apartheid days. Masterfully written by Achmat Dangor. The key theme is traumatising - racial oppression, sexual violence and family breakdown. A difficult read. However, I was totally engrossed. . This plot revolves around Silas, Lydia and Mikey (father, mother and son, a family of people of colour). 20 years prior to the beginning of the story, Lydia was raped by a police officer next to the van her husband was locked in. Though not talked about, the incident continues to haunt them for years. Their marriage is of devotion and lovelessness. The tension is so extreme, it made me feel uncomfortable reading it. Their son can sense the non-belonging of his parents and seeks his purpose elsewhere. All his life, he searches for his mother's love in other women. . Sensuality is also another important theme here. The characters were written to feel attracted to each other for all the right and wrong reasons. Oedipal complex is rampant. Aunt and nephew, mother and son, father and daughter, son and father's friend. However, one must keep in mind that the context is South Africa, post-apartheid. There are nuances in every power dynamics and relationships. The tensions may represent the violation and oppression experienced by the blacks and people of colour. Perhaps, in a way, expressing their desires is the only possible way for the characters to regain a sense of control in their lives. The reconciliation effort by the goverment was mentioned a lot of times, as if to remind people to suppress their sufferings for the betterment of their future. So so brutal. . I was reluctant to read this book due to the gender-based violence mentioned. It took me months before having the courage to pick it up and goddamn, it was an amazing read. I knew that I had to finish it within a day or it'd haunt me in my sleep. The writing style of the author - complex, sometimes incomplete and emotionally volatile - is so magnetic, I couldn't look away. Read it if you fancy intense stories. Or uncomfortable stories. Or humans so flawed, you feel a bit fearful yourself.
I had a lot of hope for this book. The idea is that it is supposed to look at post-apartheid South Africa, and how difficult it is to forgive the unspeakable crimes and the legacy they have. Clearly, it had a lot of promise.
Yet the main focus of this book is sex. I understand the parts about rape as they tie into the apartheid crimes, but there are 3 separate counts of incest. For no reason. Like they do not add to the plot nor to the characters, nor do they further the story. There is also a huge focus on sex that takes away from a deeper dive into issues that arise in post-apartheid South Africa. Because who cares if something of historical significance is happening if one character is sleeping with another. Whoohoo.
Also, the writing style was really confusing. It would switch between tenses for no discernible reason. For example, there is a passage written in future tense that happens at that point. You think it is hypothetical but nope. This just makes it very complicated to read.
The characters do not seem to face repercussions for their actions. Which is kind of annoying and unrealistic. And there is a huge number of loose ends, which does not add to the story.
The reason I did not give it a one star is because it does deal superficially with some relevant post-apartheid issues and does look at the legacy of apartheid and the dissatisfaction in South African society with things like the TRC, and the post-apartheid government, which is what I had hoped to read about.
Overall I do not recommend this book as I feel that it does not delve into the topics that it should delve into and instead has a very sex-focused approach on a much more complex and multi-dimensional issue. Overall this book could have been such an amazing way to look into South African society and the legacy such systemic issues have, but no it had to be about sex and incest (i repeat FOR NO REASON).
Deci, ma enerveaza maxim autorul ca trateaza toate subiectele controversate pe care nu le duce la capat, nu isi exprima propiul punct se vedere.Vorbeste despre apatrid, despre incest, viol si violenta in familie dar nici unul din aceste lucruri nu are o finalitate, nu deducem parerea lui despre aceste tematici Mi se pare si ca cartea nu are un personaj principal.Se vreau un roman socant si atat Desi vorbeste si despre mandela scurt, contributia acestuia asupra incetarii apatridului Sud African e lasata asa, ca si cum stim noi, a fost un nene candva ce a oprit ceva pe undeva. In fine, cartea e o combinatie de tematici socante in 300 de pg fara finalitate, asa pe scurt.
DNF at page 35 after reading "He could tell her farts from her fanny-smells".
I just... honestly, I should have seen the red flags when farts were mentioned earlier in the book 3 times over two pages, and then same character being delighted at seeing his frothy piss or whatever. Like... why? Why does the author need to add such unnecessary, gross comments? I'm out, no time for shitty books.
(sad that this was supposed to be one of the few lgbtq+ South African books)
First, I think it's necessary to acknowledge the sheer bravery of tackling this novel. Dangor has tried to recreate the fraught atmosphere of post-apartheid South Africa, a society which was negotiating the path of Truth and Reconciliation while at the same time dealing with volcanic rage at the enormity of the injustices perpetrated on its people. He succeeds when he presents people attempting to survive their own victimhood, confronting their own feelings and finding a way forward for themselves. He doesn't succeed when he makes these characters subservient to the allegory that he seems to be constructing. Lydia Ali is a rape victim: her brutalization by an apartheid-era cop is ongoing, perhaps because she allowed her resulting pregnancy to go to term and has raised Mikey as her own son. Illegitimacy is one of the many themes Dangor is providing, and in this case he is questioning how legitimate and viable a marriage (and, of course, given the allegory, by extension the whole of South African society) can be when it is awkwardly constructed on this violent premise. If rape has sabotaged the possibility of a functional society, incest seems to be undermining functional families. This is where Dangor runs into trouble: he allows his allegory to intrude on what are supposed to be sympathetic and engaging characters, forcing the social perversion of apartheid to be revealed in the private motivations of people who are able to look at each other--even members of their own family--as merely objects for their own gratification. But they would not behave that way in the real world.
It is a time of change and the uncertainty that goes with it, the fruit of freedom that will leave a bitter taste for many. Silas Ali, a mixed-race former anti-Apartheid illegal, is now a lawyer in the Justice Department, working with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which is about to present its report to President Mandela. But there is a truth that he and his black wife Julia cannot face, or be reconciled with – her rape by a white Afrikaner policeman François du Boise 20 years before, while he was forced to hear her screams. The act was probably perpetrated because of Silas’s involvement with the MK, and now the couple, whose sexless marriage has been ruined by the incident, are driven even further apart by the revelation that du Boise is seeking amnesty for the crime, and is likely to name Julia in his application. A bad situation is made worse when Mikey, their 18-year-old son, learns that Du Boise is probably his father. The family can no longer ‘live in our spheres of silence, not saying the unsayable, denying everyone the pleasure of seeing us suffer the divine virtue of the brave new country: truth.’ A family that had to ‘learn to become ordinary, learn how to lie to ourselves, and to others, if it means keeping the peace, avoiding discord and strife.’ Julia must journey through the darkness of silent years. Silas, a good man bearing his own burden of guilt, must deal with his own family’s truths as he has done the nation’s. At the same time, the political and moral ground is shifting. Mandela is about to step down, ushering in a new wave of hard-liners different in ideology and race from Silas, who finds himself ‘in a twilight zone between black and white, trying to be both and ending up as neither.’ His career is likely to be curtailed by those who believe that there is ‘nothing more obstructive than half-believing followers.’ The family is destroyed: Julia commits an at of self-mutilation, dancing on broken glass, but eventually achieves a form of liberation through sex with a stranger, and leaves her husband. Silas is stranded, personally and by background. Even post-Apartheid, ‘who we are is still determined by what colour we are,’ he declares. But the revelations of the past have the greatest effect on Mikey, a gifted student who is radicalised and becomes a fundamentalist Muslim, killing both his girl-friend’s sexually abusive father and his putative own father Du Boise. That really is the main action of the book, which is otherwise largely preoccupied with the sexual desires and practices of its principal characters. Allowance must be made for the legacy of racial laws that forbade sex with a person of different colour, for an apparent fixation in Dangor’s new South Africa to exercise precisely that right, and with sex in general. More women are raped in Johannesburg, we are told, than anywhere else in the world. Mikey meanwhile has sexual relations of a kind with his sister, his mother, his girlfriend’s mother, his professor and his father’s affluent, white, bisexual, erstwhile comrade-in-arms. ‘Enough of this nightmarish obsession with Mikey’s sex life,’ one observer complains. I felt the same. I would have appreciated more about the politics of society than of the bedroom.
I would have given a 5 star but for the slow pace of this book. It starts beguiling slow, like a Waltz, and only very gradually builds up its tempo, but it is written with exquisite grace and prose. I can see all the reasons it was short-listed for the Man Booker prize, and also why it perhaps didn't win. This is a powerful story of a family disintegrating, and the plot emerges with delicate craft. The dialogue is brilliant, and the look at a nascent new South Africa insightful. The first half of the book nonetheless felt somewhat tedious. But do carry on, the second half is the masterpiece!
Bitter Fruit is a novel about post-apartheid South Africa, Islam, and incest, subjects which are so completely foreign to me that it was difficult for me to connect with the characters. I wanted to like and care about the story, but just could not. While I'm sure Dangor deserves the praise and awards, it just wasn't my cup of tea.
I admire the authors writing style and the way he puts his words together is quite beautiful, unfortunately the topic was depressing and at certain points I didn't like any of the characters or their thoughts and actions. I'm left wondering how this book was shortlisted for so many prestigious awards and feeling generally depressed after finishing.
I shall just say that it should have won a Booker. What an intense and complex, and at times, shocking text. It explores interpersonal matters of a South African coloured family struggling with issues of self-identity, belonging, rape, incest (another form of rape?) and betrayal. This one will stay with me for a while.
Set in post-apartheid South Africa, it should have been interesting, but I found it annoying. Characters development just didn't ring true. There were some worthy descriptions of the social environment that kept me reading - but in the end, I can't recommend this book.
### 📚 Recenzie – *Fructul amar* ✍️ de **Achmat Dangor**
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**„Fructul amar”** este un roman intens și profund tulburător, scris de autorul sud-african **Achmat Dangor**, finalist pentru Man Booker Prize și una dintre cele mai respectate voci literare din Africa de Sud post-apartheid. Cartea se plasează într-un moment de tranziție istorică – după sfârșitul regimului apartheid – și explorează cu luciditate consecințele personale, familiale și sociale ale unei perioade marcate de violență, traume și conflicte identitare.
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### 🧩 **Rezumat (fără spoilere)**
Povestea urmărește viața lui **Silas Ali**, un fost activist politic ajuns funcționar guvernamental, și a soției sale **Lydia**, ale căror traume din trecut revin în prim-plan atunci când un fost agent al poliției se reîntoarce în viața lor. Un secret greu, ascuns de Lydia de ani de zile – un act de violență din timpul apartheidului – începe să macine echilibrul familiei.
Pe măsură ce adevărul iese la iveală, și fiul lor, **Mikey**, este prins între două lumi: moștenirea brutală a trecutului părinților săi și propriul drum, care îl conduce spre radicalizare și revoltă.
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### 🎭 **Teme centrale**
- Trauma intergenerațională - Identitatea personală și etnică - Tăcerea ca formă de rezistență sau complicitate - Eșecul reconcilierii în fața durerii reale - Răzbunare vs. iertare
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### 🖋️ **Stilul de scriere**
Achmat Dangor scrie cu o **finețe literară remarcabilă** – proza sa este densă, poetică, încărcată de simboluri, dar niciodată greoaie. Îmbină introspecția psihologică profundă cu o observație socială tăioasă. Ritmul este lent, dar tensionat, cu o construcție narativă care amestecă planuri temporale și perspective multiple.
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### ✅ **Puncte forte**
✔ Personaje complexe, umane, sfâșiate între trecut și prezent ✔ Reflecție matură asupra realității post-apartheid ✔ Limbaj bogat, emoțional, dar controlat ✔ Nu oferă răspunsuri facile – doar întrebări incomode și adevăruri crude
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### ⚠️ **Puncte slabe**
➖ Uneori, încărcătura emoțională și densitatea simbolică pot solicita atenție sporită ➖ Nu este un roman pentru cei care caută o poveste liniară sau finaluri clare
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### 🧠 **Concluzie**
*Fructul amar* este o meditație asupra răului și modului în care acesta continuă să influențeze viețile celor care au supraviețuit. Este o carte despre tăceri devastatoare, despre cum trecutul refuză să fie trecut și despre ce rămâne când idealurile se destramă.
Un roman **dureros, dar necesar**, care merită citit lent, cu empatie și deschidere.
🔹 **Recomandat pentru:** cititorii interesați de literatură serioasă, teme politice și sociale, experiențe post-coloniale și psihologie umană. 🔹 **Nu este pentru:** cei care caută evadare sau lectură ușoară.
📖 **Verdict:** O lectură grea, dar memorabilă – un roman care rămâne cu tine mult timp după ultima pagină.
Achmat Dangor was himself coloured, when asked about his racial identity he said, “I am an African with Asian and Dutch blood in me. I don’t know what race I am, and I don’t care.” Bitter Fruit might prove the contrary is far truer. It’s clear Dangor was not entirely satisfied with not knowing, if not in his racial identity, he was certainly interested in holding a space for the experiences of South Africa’s people of mixed descent. In Bitter Fruit, his exploration of the ambiguity of his racial identity extends to an interrogation of the ambiguity of justice and the ambiguity of right and wrong in South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC).
Bitter Fruit, Dangor’s most acclaimed book, is a story about a coloured family living in Johannesburg. The father, Silas is a government lawyer who was involved with the anti-apartheid movement and now works for the Ministry of Justice. Lydia, his wife, is a nurse who was sexually assaulted by an Afrikaner policeman which resulted in the birth of Mikey, a son Silas claims as his own. A chance encounter between Silas and the man who raped his wife, years later, triggers a series of events that expose the casualties of a family born of an invisible war. Incest and predatory relationships are a major theme in the novel. I am not sure what part these incestual and predatory relationships play in telling this story. I think this book should come with several content warnings. A part of me feels that Dangor should have denounced certain behaviours and relationships. The novel was also uneventful and forgettable in its ending although it displayed great potential in the beginning, nevertheless ambiguity as a theme is bound to spark important and necessary conversations about the legacy of the TRC in South Africa.