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Imaginings of Sand

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Imaginings of Sand - André Brink

This beautifully crafted and sensitive book deals with many of the important issues which South Africans must now face in the post-apartheid era. The novel begins with the return of Kristien Muller to her dying grandmother's bedside. The grandmother is a wonderful character, full of enchantment, mischief, energy and most importantly stories. She is the keeper of stories about the family's history and origins, in particular the parallel histories and stories of the women in their family throughout the generations. This is part of the reason for Kristien's return, to receive the gift of stories and memory from her grandmother before the old woman dies. While the novel centres around the relationship between Kristien and her grandmother, Ouma Kristina, the novel is also a complex matrix of parallel and interconnected dialogues with the other characters in the novel, from the past and the present, which constantly interrupt and participate in the central dialogue. Brink deals with the themes of returning home, the re-imagining of the past in order to move forward, recognising roots and ancestry and their implications in the present and the exploration of the dynamics between history and story, the real and the imaginary, and fact and fiction. Brink captures the mood of South Africa on the eve of the elections very accurately, he portrays the heightened states of fear, cynicism and evil alongside the passion, hope, excitement and idealism with sensitivity and compassion, while still conveying a powerful warning to those who wish to thwart the much needed and inevitable transition to democracy. In Ouma Kristina's stories there is a distinctly African flavour, which can be linked to the rediscovery of African tradition in South Africa and the move away from Eurocentric ideologies. Ouma Kristina's stories combine Afrikaner legends and stories with those of the indigenous African people, the KhoiSan and in doing so Brink demonstrates how interconnected the histories of these two groups are, and there is perhaps the suggestion that in rediscovering a shared history lies the hope for conciliation and a better understanding of one another in the future. While this novel has many distinctly South African nuances to it, it should still appeal to a wide readership because apart from the sheer brilliance of Brink's story-telling, the broader themes that are dealt with are really universal in nature and effect most of us at some time in our lives.

Imaginings Of Sand by André Brink was a second novel I recently encountered where an old woman, close to death, related a life story. The book's central character is Ouma Kristina, an unconventional Afrikaner lady, bed-ridden and severely burned after her house was torched by raiders. André Brink has her relate a family history to her near-namesake granddaughter, a modern, independently-minded thirty-something, and in her own time and way also unconventional. She seems to have broken free from her past, perhaps even rejected it, has lived in London and has even joined the African National Congress. Through her grandmother's stories, the younger Kristien rediscovers her heritage, her family history and via that her people's history. It's a long story and is delivered, eventually, directly from the coffin. While Sebastian Barry's heroine in Secret Scriptures relates a purely personal tale from her deathbed, André Brink's Ouma Kristina tells not only her own story, but also that of the family ancestors, and always via a matriarchal lineage. It's the women that make the history, and that history reflects the story of an entire people, spanning two centuries. In both books, the scenarios lack credibility, but equally, once suspension of belief has been achieved, both work beautifully as literary mechanisms. In Brink's novel, however, Ouma Kristina's project is much bigger than telling her own story and eventually it even begins to illustrate how myth can create history and vice versa. Not bad for an old lady burnt to a cinder!

Imaginings Of Sand is also for me a third recent novel examining the fears, hopes and realities surrounding South Africa's transition to legitimate statehood in the 1990s. Nadine Gordimer's July's People dealt mainly with imagined fears alongside valued relationships, whereas J M Coetzee's Disgrace encountered messy reality. André Brink's project in his novel is both more ambitious and more mundane, and it is also more successful. It concentrates on one family and its history, but it's a history that mirrors that of the Afrikaner people. Young Kristien, newly returned from London where she lived a life that was perfectly inconceivable for her grandmother, her parents and even her own sister, learns much and understands more from her grandmother's stories. We sense the widening perspective that she sees. We feel the character grow.

Of course, the contemporary family also has its current issues. Caspar, husband of Kristien's elder sister is a rampant Boer, a boer and a boor. He figures significantly in the book's denouement, acted out as the old woman predictably and eventually expires, South Africa elects a new government and Kristien, herself, makes a decision she would not have thought possible just weeks before. The subtlety of Imaginings Of Sand lie in how André Brink uses the family dispute as a metaphor for what is feared in the wider society. Suffice it to say that after a period of oppression and exploitation, it is possible that the repressed, guilt-ridden middle ground is the most likely source of over-reaction.

The family's history related by the dying grandmother might occasionally stray into too much detail, and sometimes the fantasy, the myth that André Brink seeks to introduce through their embroidery, might seem a tad false or confused. But then that's myth, isn't it? But Imaginings Of Sand is as close to a masterpiece of fiction as anything I have read in many years. Its successes are on many levels, across a multitude of parallel themes. It's a historical novel. It's a political novel. It enacts a subtly-constructed psychological drama. It also, ambitiously, sees everything from a female standpoint, thus binding both the reality and the myth of regeneration and reproduction into the fabric of the story. The book is thus a novel that demands to be read by anyone with an interest in Africa, South Africa in particular, history, politics, psychology, women or merely people. And it you don't fall into any of these categories, read it anyway! It's a masterpiece.

I could hardly be able to have any breaks in reading before I was finished with the book! The same thing happened to me with Brink's "Devil's Valley". I really enjoy his stories!

Under the guise of telling the story of nine generations of women, the reader is subjected to one more male fantasy about the sexual life of women. The "heroine" and her female ancestors have no value other than their sexual use. Does a single woman in this book write anything? NO! Build anything? NO. Work for anything except a secondary role in society? NO! The main character is defined by her willingness to be used as a sexual release for Important Men and when she gets pregnant--within marriage--she opts for an abortion in a pique of selfishness and vengefulness. Her sister likewise represents stifling life by being a mass murderer--a role so far removed from reality as to be a further slap in the face to the life-affirming aspect of being female. Frankly, the book disgusted me. After one-third of the way through it I was able to predict which sexual fantasy would come next, window-dressed as "this is how women really are." Beneath a very thin patina of trying to "be female" the author reveals a scorn for women seldom encountered in contemporary writers. Don't waste your time--read "A Thousand Splendid Suns" instead.