The Promise

This won the Booker prize so it's fine for me not to be a fan. I've argued with some people about it to try and understand why it's liked, and I just can't get there.

Everyone acts like the narrative style is new but it's such a clear comparison with Virginia Woolf's To The Lighthouse, a comparison that does nothing but harm to this book.

You would think the point of constantly switching to show different characters inner lives is to show the complexity of being human and interacting with others, how people appear on the outside vs their inner thoughts, but I genuinely think you could write this book with literally no internal monologue from anyone and you would still know everything about each character. This narrative style didn't actually add anything which makes me wonder if the point was just to...be......different?

Nice to read something so South African, that's something.

As one participant in yesterday's discussion put it - the story of a crumbling family, in a crumbling society, The Promise tells the tale, in particular, of three siblings, Anton, Astrid and Amor, their parents and extended family, against the backdrop of the ending of apartheid in South Africa.

From a white farming family, the three sibling's story is told in a series of deaths and the ramifications of each of those on them, and a long-standing promise to the black maid and lifelong companion of them all - Salome. Starting with the death of their mother, and her deathbed return to her Jewish faith, the ructions that this, and the promise she extracts from her husband to give Salome the house and land that she lives on (pointed echo here with the current Australian Voice discussions), start out a story that then moves onwards in time, in a meandering roundabout sort of manner. Next up is their father, his attachment to a Christian Minister and the religion that has some feeling of a cult about it, the father's subsequent death and brother Anton's inheriting of the farm. But Anton's troubled and tortured and never settles, whilst middle child Astrid marries in haste, has kids, and strives for something that she can't describe. Meanwhile younger sister Amor can no longer stomach what she sees as the morally bankrupt, unquestioning nature of the family and breaks away, building a life that's based on her own hardwork and sacrifice, not her inheritance. Somehow though, this is, in itself, oddly morally ambiguous, despite her good works, she's as lonely, disconnected and empty as her other siblings.

Galgut's writing, and powers of observation are acute in this novel, as is his willingness to call out the white gaze. He uses a stream of conscious approach that takes its directional cues from small observations and happenings, moving the story from one viewpoint to another, gently but unrelentingly probing the easy view, revealing the truth behind the things we know and what we're all prepared to say.

Disturbing on one level, engaging and, once you adjust to the methodology behind the writing, and the printed styling (no grammatical marks for example), absolutely enthralling.

One that made the vast majority of the participants in the discussion very keen to seek out further work by the same author.