In ‘Space is the Place: The Life and Times of Sun Ra’, John Szwed comments that “in large part the difficulty in understanding Sun Ra was the result oIn ‘Space is the Place: The Life and Times of Sun Ra’, John Szwed comments that “in large part the difficulty in understanding Sun Ra was the result of him being edited and abbreviated, inaccurately transcribed, or poorly translated.”
What a treasure trove, then, this book. John Corbett explains in the introduction how, in 2000, in a folder marked ‘One of Everything’, the original manuscripts for 46 of Sun Ra’s broadsheets were discovered on Chicago’s South Side, “just barely salvaged from being destroyed”.
They offer an amazing, sometimes shocking, view into the uncut early investigations of Sun Ra, his imaginative and angry reinterpretations of scripture, his scintillating and absurd etymologies, his beloved equations, his powerful analysis of racial epithets and black vernacularisms, and a few intimations of his later preoccupation with space.
This book solely consists of facsimile reproductions, complete with Sun Ra’s marginal handwritten notes. In addition, transcriptions of the texts retain the character of the pages in terms of their 'eccentric' punctuation and 'emphatic' use of capitalisation (to put it mildly).
As Corbett concludes: “These edicts are raw Ra, hardcore missives to a crumbling world, a bundle of ransom notes from the creator of the universe, delayed in transit, but delivered at long last.”...more
Coming to terms with being gay, and the death of an estranged brother, and the impact of both on family dynamics, all set in a series of homophobic, pComing to terms with being gay, and the death of an estranged brother, and the impact of both on family dynamics, all set in a series of homophobic, patriarchal, and violent US-Mexico border towns, might seem too much for a slim volume like this to bear. But these poems are exquisite, hefting their weight of grief and sensuality with tenderness, beauty, love, and rage (often all combined). [If you are interested in the technicalities of poetry, check out the Poetry Foundation review, which explores Amparán's syllabics, delicate imagery, and use of the imploded villanelle, which 'accelerates traditional refrains through the use of vertical line breaks.']...more
Laugh-out-loud funny take on an apartheid era South Africa secret space programme to colonise a habitable moon with the Volk. However, the addition ofLaugh-out-loud funny take on an apartheid era South Africa secret space programme to colonise a habitable moon with the Volk. However, the addition of the Angolan War 'bossies' character Stefan also makes this a probing look at generational trauma and its impact on Afrikaner identity and ideology up to today. Latimer pokes a lot of fun at the lofty pretensions of space (de)colonisation and Afrofuturism. These are 'Afrinauts' (with black Springbok on their spacesuits) ... not 'Afronauts'. Of course, 'The Space Race' is a double entendre....more
A lot of research information about Nigeria is curiously out of date, unless you peruse the country reports at websites like the World Bank. However, A lot of research information about Nigeria is curiously out of date, unless you peruse the country reports at websites like the World Bank. However, Editor Oluwaseun Tella’s 2021 compilation is one of the best I’ve encountered to date. It is a critical exploration of Nigeria’s domestic and international politics since its return to democracy, and also looks at key topics like the 2019 elections, Nigerian federalism, state-civil society relations, and Boko Haram terrorism.
Coinciding with the twenty-year anniversary of Nigeria’s return to democratic rule, this compilation looks critically at the state of democracy in Nigeria and its options for future development. It also examines Nigeria’s relations with South Africa (Nigeria’s opposite regional hegemon in the South), Egypt, Ghana, and Cameroon. Indispensable for anyone interested in inter-Africa relations and Global South power dynamics....more
I was looking for information about Jamie Uys, in particular ‘The Gods Must Be Crazy’ (1980), and stumbled across this remarkable treasure trove by MaI was looking for information about Jamie Uys, in particular ‘The Gods Must Be Crazy’ (1980), and stumbled across this remarkable treasure trove by Martin Botha. He states that the book is the outcome of 30 years of personal research. South Africa’s great documentary film tradition dates back to 1896 and the Anglo-Boer War. Botha laments: “Only a few books have been published regarding the history of one of the oldest film industries in the world and one of the largest in the African continent.” Between 1910 and 2008, as many as 1 434 features were made in South Africa, of which 944 were shot from 1978 to 1992. “South African film history is captured in a mere 13 books,” adds Botha. This is one of them. Let’s hope Botha updates this volume by including the impact of digital cinema, streaming models, and changing finance models....more
Exquisite. Every Joburger needs to read this, and experience the beauty and brutality of this incredible city through Ivan and Minky's eyes, as well aExquisite. Every Joburger needs to read this, and experience the beauty and brutality of this incredible city through Ivan and Minky's eyes, as well as its vibrant spirit of community and resilience....more
‘I can label my uncertainty about the future and my shifting sense of self as symptoms of the democratic transition, or decolonisation, but that doesn‘I can label my uncertainty about the future and my shifting sense of self as symptoms of the democratic transition, or decolonisation, but that doesn’t make it feel any less painful to let go of a dream, to think maybe all my idealism only gets in the way. Why does it matter so much to me how this country fares, how my generation contributes? I am not the story of white South Africa or childhood trauma or homophobia. I am not a symbol or a microcosm or a sociological experiment. This is my life. It is particular and individual. It’s the only one I’ll ever get.’
This is a magnificent, ‘relentlessly gay’ novel, as John Updike said of Alan Hollinghurst, a criticism which Alistair Mackay references. Updike added that Hollinghurst was ‘boring’ to boot, which is certainly not the case with ‘The Child’, a fast-paced Bildungsroman where forgotten, or hidden, childhood memories emerge in flashes during therapy sessions, while the main protagonist (first person, unnamed(view spoiler)[Until literally a blink-if-you-miss-it instant on the final page, which is Mackay’s way of saying to the reader: ‘Have you been paying attention?’, as well as an indication of how much of a close reading this relatively straightforward text requires to tease out all its nuances, ambiguities, and epiphanies. (hide spoiler)]) watches his carefully constructed gay marriage and adult life collapse around him like a hokkie during a storm in Philippi.
Ask any two South African readers about J.M. Coetzee and you are bound to end up with an argument. So, having a Coetzee quote as your epigraph is likely to signpost this as yet another ‘depressing’ post-apartheid South African novel, akin to that other (Booker-winning) ‘depressing’ apartheid novel, ‘The Promise’ (Mackay thanks Damon Galgut in his Acknowledgements for ‘advice on the manuscript’.)
Yes, there are comparisons to be made, but I think it is much more a case of Mackay engaging in a dialogue with Galgut, especially regarding the character of the domestic servant Sibs, who is central to the unfolding narrative, yet marginal at the same time. At one point the narrator says Sibs is so intimately intertwined with their personal lives, down to knowing which underwear belongs to him and his husband Adrian, but he doesn’t even know her surname or exactly where she lives.
It is a kind of colonial myopia that makes marginal areas like Philippi invisible to white people in particular, mitigating the cognitive dissonance so they can continue with their sheltered lives, propped up by capitalism and racial privilege. I love the line where the narrator says: “I squandered the symbolism of my life by falling in love with a white guy…”
Indeed, he is still of that generation that firmly believes in the “perfect post-apartheid ideal of the rainbow-nation family.” So, when a breakdown in New York results in the couple returning to their old home in Cape Town, the narrator decides to do exactly that: start a family.
If you are wondering about the ‘relentlessly gay’ part, this is an unflinching look at a young gay couple, very different in temperament, but anchored and made whole by their differences, who grapple daily with the contradictions of being intersectional (white, gay, and privileged) in contemporary South Africa.
Even a walk to the corner shop, presided over by your friendly neighbourhood Muslim proprietor, and locking eyes with the beggars and homeless en route, poses an existential dilemma in this country that we deal with every day.
Part of the problem is “our ignored continent, where no one cares what happens, where tragedy is supposed to be part of the brand.” What is striking about ‘The Child’ is how much of a character Cape Town is, but far shabbier and divided than the Wakanda-like idyll that the ruling Democratic Alliance has always made the Mother City out to be – the kind of functional, progressive metropolis where everyone wants to live, as long as you ignore the Cape Flats and the indigent out on the streets.
There is a wonderful scene where the narrator travels to the city of gold and parties it up at Ratz (I believe) in the glory days of Melville, remarking on the startling whiteness of Cape Town compared to the inter-racial energy and vibe of Jozi. It is a startling contrast between the two cities that is certainly not conveyed in our media.
This makes ‘The Child’, for better or worse, a very political novel in the runup to a general election that has been touted as being as significant a turning point for our maturing multi-party democracy as 1994 was for the country’s liberation.
Certainly, we cannot consider our constitutionally enshrined gay rights as a passport to freedom and hedonism, given the outspoken anti-gay stance of cretins like Zuma, or the fact that, on our very doorstep, Ghana and Uganda have passed some of the most draconian anti-gay legislation in the world.
Then we have the far-right uprising from France to Russia and the USA. It is easy to tune this out as background geopolitical ‘white noise’ (unsure if that is a joke or not) but being white and gay in South Africa is not a walk in the park, despite what the constitution solemnly declares, and the platitudes that the politicians entice the tourists with.
And being part of a committed white male gay relationship is even more complex, as it adds so much additional baggage to the simple, undeniable problem of being white in the first place: the male gaze, the saviour complex, etc.
How on earth do you decolonise being gay, especially when you cannot separate your very ‘whiteness’ from your innate identity? These are all difficult issues to grapple with, and Mackay does so in an unsparing manner that makes parts of this very necessary book difficult to read.
I was worried in the beginning that Adrian, the supportive and rational partner of a gay man in his thirties so burdened with white guilt he is ready to disown his entire ancestry, would be so overshadowed that he remained in the background, a tiller steering the narrative.
But Adrian comes into sharp focus during one of the book’s crucial sex scenes, when he and his husband return from the fertility clinic, and that flash of horniness like helium in a star that young couples take so for granted suddenly strikes its fire.
However, it is not business as usual, as the two spontaneously engage in a daddy / bad girl roleplay that is as discomforting as it is a turn-on. Writing believable sex scenes is difficult enough, but a gay sex scene like this, balanced on a razor edge of perversion, desperation, lust, and love, with so much subtext swirling around like hormones, is breathtaking to read. I can only think of one other equally accomplished writer who does uncomfortable, vaguely transgressive, but extremely hot sex scenes, and that is Garth Greenwell.
I paused at this point, wondering how Mackay would continue the story. The next chapter begins quietly, with a description of a Cape Town winter rainstorm that is but a temporary balm in the aftermath of Day Zero. “This fragile ecosystem at the tip of Africa, the smallest and most diverse floral kingdom in the world, is drying out.” Mackay’s joy and wonder at the incredible natural heritage that enfolds Cape Town shines gloriously in such passages (heritage, both human and nature, is an important theme.)
And ultimately what sustains this couple and makes their tiny struggle in the bigger picture so significant is their love, decency, and humanity. That is what the rainbow nation means, and it is an ideal we have fallen far from, not to mention lacking the grace to achieve – certainly in my lifetime, and my generation, as a lot of readers will feel, I think.
Oh fuck, it is another Coetzee paean to the pain of South Africa, I hear you say. Definitely not. I was pleased that Mackay boasts cover blurbs from C.A. Davids and S.J. Naude (his debut novel, ‘It Doesn’t Have To Be This Way’, had Mia Ardenne and Siya Khumalo.) Along with Mackay, these represent some of the most exciting authors at work in South Africa today.
Mackay is one of these great writers who ground us in our humanity, our Yeatsian ‘tattered cloak’, and makes us feel wondrous about the gift of life, and being able to share that love. He takes a fairly prosaic idea – being a white gay couple in Cape Town – and turns our conventional thinking about cities, nature, love, sacrifice, gender, sex, our ancestors, and history, completely on its head. Oh, and pugs as well....more
A 'progressive dinner party' in an upmarket neighbourhood goes nuts. Great fun, with a dark twist or two.A 'progressive dinner party' in an upmarket neighbourhood goes nuts. Great fun, with a dark twist or two....more
'Afrofuturism is a great tool for wielding the imagination for personal change and societal growth. Empowering people to see themselves and their idea'Afrofuturism is a great tool for wielding the imagination for personal change and societal growth. Empowering people to see themselves and their ideas in the future gives rise to innovators and free thinkers, all of whom can pull from the best of the past while navigating the sea of possibilities to create communities, culture, and a new, balanced world. The imagination is the key to progress, and it’s the imagination that is all too often smothered in the name of conformity and community standards.'
My God, this was magnificent. A hard SF novel – think ‘Bewilderment’ by Richard Powers, but as written by Kim Stanley Robinson – that is not afraid toMy God, this was magnificent. A hard SF novel – think ‘Bewilderment’ by Richard Powers, but as written by Kim Stanley Robinson – that is not afraid to go for good old-fashioned sense of wonder. That ending: numinous, ambiguous, terrifying, jaw-dropping. Full review to follow....more
'It is time to write. It is not time to write, Though one time, I am told, is as good As any time, right now as good as any now.'
Fuck, this pulverised'It is time to write. It is not time to write, Though one time, I am told, is as good As any time, right now as good as any now.'
Fuck, this pulverised me. I read it during a single two-hour loadshedding bout in South Africa, where language, race, hegemony, decolonial deconstruction, and the role of the Omniscient Narrator in any art form is a complex intersection of privilege and the capacity to wield Western modes of knowledge production in the (reductive) service of a lone voice, in the language of Empire.
My synapses are still reverberating. Poetry has to be the most lacerating, epiphanic, intimate, embracing, confrontational, and quietly revolutionary art form out there....more
Netflix gets a lot of flack for being this homogenising, corporatised streaming service that insists on a level of control extending to the types of cNetflix gets a lot of flack for being this homogenising, corporatised streaming service that insists on a level of control extending to the types of cameras and lenses used on its shows, producing what detractors call ‘the Netflix look’.
But when it does honour innovation and talent and is willing to give a project the budget it deserves, the results are spectacular. And LDR is a great example of that balls-to-the-wall commitment, a groundbreaking anthology series in the legacy of Heavy Metal that gave free reign to some of the best and most talented working in animation today.
In addition, the stories in the series are based on a veritable roll call of ‘who’s who’ in the SF genre, from JG Ballard to Harlan Ellison, John Scalzi, Neal Asher, Alastair Reynolds, Peter F. Hamilton, Ken Liu, Joe Lansdale, Paolo Bacigalupi, Michael Swanwick and Bruce Sterling.
Ramin Zahed’s book is the perfect LDR companion, giving just enough technical insight and behind-the-scenes geekery on every episode thus far. The real treat though are the gorgeous photographs, storyboards, sketches and other visual material that makes for an absolute feast for the senses. Let’s hope we get a Volume 4 of LDR!...more
'I push through the gleaming brass doors of the Royal Ruby Theatre. God, I love the smell of this place, the mineral crispness emanating from the anti'I push through the gleaming brass doors of the Royal Ruby Theatre. God, I love the smell of this place, the mineral crispness emanating from the antique marble floors, the hints of metallic tang from the brass details, and that other scent, too, a mix of perfumes and colognes and anticipation from the decades of theatergoers who’ve visited this hallowed place.'
Diva hated by everyone in a hit play, in a haunted theatre, has a spectacular comeuppance. Loved the detail and characterisation. And you certainly won't predict that bone-chilling-cold ending....more
'I wished I could talk to Grandmother and ask her what to do. We had buried her in the backyard, in a flower bed underneath the apple tree, and asters'I wished I could talk to Grandmother and ask her what to do. We had buried her in the backyard, in a flower bed underneath the apple tree, and asters and salvia and toad lilies were still blooming there. I knelt down, and for the first time I realized it was the same garden as in that painting in the drawing room, The Beckoning Fair One. But no ghost came toward me with arms outstretched, out of the drear mist.'
Dark little nugget of a story that, er, climaxes in a creepy-as-fuck ending. My first time reading Dan Chaon; certainly won't be my last....more
I urge anyone who is interested in Samuel R. Delany, now 81, to read the incredibly moving profile by Julian Lucas in the July 10 & 17 2023 issue of ‘I urge anyone who is interested in Samuel R. Delany, now 81, to read the incredibly moving profile by Julian Lucas in the July 10 & 17 2023 issue of ‘The New Yorker’. Lucas begins his article with Delany describing what he called ‘the big drop’ of September 2023, which had all the symptoms of a mini stroke. Test results indicated a 15% decline in Delany’s capacity to form new memories – as a result of which he had to abandon his then novel-in-progress. After publishing over 40 books over several decades, Delany told Lucas it was both “a loss and a relief.”
For years, Delany has begun most days at four o’clock in the morning with a ritual. First, he spells out the name Dennis, for Dennis Rickett, his life partner. Next, he recites an atheist’s prayer, hailing faraway celestial bodies with a litany inspired by the seventeenth-century philosopher Baruch Spinoza: “Natura Naturans, system of systems, system of fields, Kuiper belt, scattered disk, Oort cloud, thank you for dropping me here.” Finally, he prepares oatmeal, which he faithfully photographs for the friends and fans who follow him on Facebook. Every so often, when the milk foams, he sees Laniakea—the galactic supercluster that’s home to Earth.
‘a, b, c: three short novels’ comprises ‘The Jewels of Aptor’ (1962), ‘The Ballad of Beta-2’ (1965), and ‘They Fly at Çiron’ (1993). It is a bit of an eclectic collection that eschews the more well-known and award-winning titles from the 1960s. Taken together, though, it is a wonderful introduction to (if you are new to Delany) and reminder (if you are already a fan) of his particular brand of speculative fiction. ‘Jewels’ was the first SF novel I read as a teenager, attracted by the rather gaudy paperback cover, and it instilled a lifelong love in me of genre-bending fiction. It was also Delany’s first published novel.
SF has changed so much in recent years, especially with the increasing chorus of voices from the Global South, it is highly likely the latest generation of younger readers has never even heard of writers like Delany, Le Guin, Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein, Simak, etc. (with Herbert being an exception, of course, given the latest ‘Dune’ adaptation by Denis Villeneuve.)
Not only was he a young prodigy who wrote his best SF in his 20s, Delany also penned one of the first, and one of the most influential, critical examinations of the genre in ‘The Jewel-Hinged Jaw’ (1977). While it has been overshadowed by Darko Suvin’s ‘Metamorphoses of Science Fiction’ (1979), I think Delany has emerged as the more important, and certainly durable, SF academic. ‘Occasional Views Volumes 1 and 2’ were published in quick succession in 2021.
Of course, Delany was an important member of the trio in Mark Dery’s 1994 ‘Black to the Future’ interview, in which Dery defined ‘afrofuturism’. Delany continues to be a significant contributor to the debate, as with ‘The Mirror of Afrofuturism’ (2020).
And then there are the gay / pornographic novels. I think for many readers, there has been a longtime schism between those who perhaps read his SF, those with an academic interest in the genre, and those who gravitate towards the latter gay works and essays. As Delany remarks in ‘Ash Wednesday’, the final essay in ‘Occasional Views Volume 2’: “As a writer, I’m known as a ‘sex radical, Afro-futurist, and grand master of science fiction.’”
Indeed. It is always a perilous undertaking rereading books you loved when younger. However, I have often found that age adds a patina of experience to the nostalgia. And great writing always withstands such a return and re-scrutinising in the light of one’s own life experience.
For completists, there is a new Foreword and Afterword written especially for this collection. The latter, in particular, is a sobering reflection on Delany’s 50-odd-year-long career.
Long may he continue to see the swirls of Laniakea in his morning oatmeal....more
Let the reader invest emotionally in a fully rounded character like Millie, and you can let the world end and begin again in any number of ways, as SGLet the reader invest emotionally in a fully rounded character like Millie, and you can let the world end and begin again in any number of ways, as SGJ does in this affecting tale of Otherness and history....more
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