Agaat

by Marlene van Niekerk

On the farm Grootmoedersdrift, tragic and unexpected events are triggered by a number of fateful shifts of power and dependence in the intimate relationships between four family members.

Milla Redelinghuys, the idealistic heiress of the family farm, suffers cruel disillusionment in her marriage to MooiJak de Wet. Agaat Lourier, adopted by Milla, and raised with a relentless and loving hand, is later reduced to the role of housekeeper and nanny after the birth of Milla's biological son, Jakkie. But when Milla falls prey to motor neuron disease, the tables are turned once again. Agaat not only takes over Milla's role, she becomes the tyrannical ruler of both the farm and its people. Jak de Wet slowly realises, with horror, what he has become over the years – a victim of the ruthless manipulations of both women. Jakkie, the pawn in the game, does the only thing he can and leaves Grootmoedersdrift, under a cloud of suspicion, to take refuge in Canada as a student of ethnomusicology.

This story is told from Milla's perspective during the last few months of her life. Bedridden, completely paralysed and unable to speak, she is meticulously nursed by a deeply anguished, yet vengeful, Agaat, who is now a middle-aged woman. Trying to make sense of her own complex memories of what happened between her and her intimate others, Milla struggles to find new ways of relating to Agaat, to Grootmoedersdrift, and ultimately to herself.

Genres: Africa, Fiction, South Africa, Historical Fiction, African Literature, Novels, Race

692 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2004

About the author

Marlene van Niekerk is a South African author who is best known for her novel Triomf. Her graphic and controversial descriptions of a poor Afrikaner family in Johannesburg brought her to the forefront of a post-apartheid society, still struggling to come to terms with all the changes in South Africa. In translation by Leon de Kock, this book was critically acclaimed in the US and UK, and was filmed in 2008.

Van Niekerk studied Languages and Philosophy at Stellenbosch University. While here, she wrote three plays for the lay theatre. In 1979 she moved to Germany to join theatres in Stuttgart and Mainz as apprentice for directing. From 1980 to 1985 she continued her studies of philosophy in The Netherlands. Back in South Africa she lectured in Philosophy at the University of Zululand, and later at the University of South Africa in Pretoria. Afterwards she was lecturer in Afrikaans and Dutch Literature at the University of the Witwatersrand.

Although she made her debut as a poet in 1977 and subsequently published another volume of poetry and a volume of short stories, it was the publication of Triomf in 1994 which catapulted her to fame. Her long-awaited second novel, Agaat (2004) was equally critically acclaimed. It was translated by fellow novelist, Michiel Heyns, and appeared in the UK and US as The Way of the Women. Her third novel, Memorandum: A Story with Pictures (also translated by Heyns) appeared in 2006. She is currently a professor of creative writing at the University of Stellenbosch.

Reviews

[Sue · Rating 5 out of 5]

Where to start with this book. I've never read a novel presented in this way before, told from so many points of view, with three of them being of the same person, Milla. In the novel's present we hear from Milla through her unspoken thoughts and wordless communication with the title character Agaat, her "adopted" daughter. Then Milla presents her past speaking through second person "you", a device at first off-putting, that ultimately works well. Then there are sections of stream of consciousness ramblings. We also hear directly from Milla's son and through both of them we hear from her husband and Agaat herself.

Set on South Africa from the 1940s to the 1990s, the novel covers the life of a farm family and a country, the story of race, gender, marital politics, finding fulfillment, all in the story of Africaaner Milla and Agaat the black child she decides to bring home. The story of their relationship is the novel. It's complex and neither of them truly appears to know the other. Milla's life is full of unhappiness which she tries to remake in her image of happiness. Agaat is a project. With the reading you will ultimately see it's result. To say too much will rob you of the experience of the gradually unfolding story.

There is much here to experience and it's not limited to the setting and time though that underscores the problems. This is not an easy book to read, requiring attention to the multiple shifts in time and tense, but I highly recommend it for any reader who doesn't mind a challenged.

[Clif Hostetler · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading this book is a spiritual experience, but not necessarily in a religious way. It's a reflection on a complicated and difficult life told from the point of view and memory of Milla who is experiencing slow death from a creeping paralysis (it's probably ALS).

With frequent use of stream of consciousness ramblings, short sentences, detailed lists and excruciatingly detailed descriptions of medical, farming and family activities, the reader is bombarded with a feeling of transcendence akin to that which comes from reading poetry. I read the English translation of the book which was originally written in Afrikaans. If the sum total of the words can affect me this way in a translated language, I wonder what the effect is in its native language.

Through flashbacks we learn of Milla's life story and her relationships with her husband (a "self aware wife beater"), her son (who becomes alienated from his parents), and Agaat (a house servant who was a castoff neglected child that was saved and taught by Milla). All these relationships have their tensions and problems, but the relationship with Agaat is explored with special thoroughness. To son Jakkie, Agaat is second mother, confidante and almost-sister. To Milla, she is house servant, livestock expert, begrudged supporter, ­and an almost-daughter in tidy apron and serving cap. But Agaat is black, and in the age of apartheid she has her place, and that place is not equal.

When Agaat was a child Milla had to hand feed her; now the roles are reversed and Agaat needs to hand feed Milla. In the midst of saving (taming) the neglected child that became Agaat, Milla asks herself a question that summarizes her life:

"Why do I always give myself the most difficult missions? The most difficult farm, the most difficult husband, and now this damaged child without a name?"

Milla in her paralyzed state has been communicating one letter at a time by using her eyes. As her paralysis spreads her remaining means to communicate begins to fail. One eye can no longer open and she's down to one eye. She knows the end is near. In desperation she identifies with the wilted flowers and gets four letters out (and thinks the rest):

"P.R.A.Y, I asked. It's the only opening I can devise to initiate what I want to plead for. Don't throw them out. Our blue-purple hydrangeas. Don't throw yourself out, and me neither. Hold us for a while yet. There is beauty also in flowers that fade. Their last hour provides stuff for contemplation. Contemplate it for me. For whom do you in any case want to refresh the vase? It's our last flower arrangement with a history in this room. Remember, you salvaged the vase. And stuck it together. And it never leaked."

Her son is not there, and she's not been told of his plans. So she gets this message out:

"M.Y. O.N.L.Y C.H.I.L.D, exclamation D.O.E.S H.E. K.N.O.W I A.M D.Y.I.N.G H.E.R.E, question mark."

This book can be read as an allegory of the demise of apartheid. In many ways Agaat and Milla embody apartheid, two women, black and white, ink and paper, who together, over 50 years, inscribed upon each other a scroll of wrongs, betrayals and sacrifices that cannot be redressed, only reread.

But there are traces of mutual tenderness and love, often unexpressed. The irony in this story is that in the end Milla is totally incapable of expressing her feelings in any way and can only think them:

"Why only now love you with this inexpressible regret? . . . Am I vain in thinking you will miss me?"

How should a person feel about experiencing slow death? Is the coming death an escape from a difficult life? Or is it a time of regret about how things could have been different? Or perhaps it is time to feel satisfied about a battle well fought.

I can't remember being so emotionally moved by a book before, and I'm not sure why. Having to endure the many pages of multitudinous words may have had something to do with it. I was so exhausted by the end of the book I was vulnerable to having my soul pierced. This book deserves to be classed as profound and well written literature. But it's not a book for everybody. It requires a seasoned and patient reader who is willing to become immersed in all the words and still reach the end.

[James Murphy · Rating 5 out of 5]

We read a lot of novels. We pride ourselves on being discerning and selective readers, and for that reason we think most of them pretty good, both because we think them ambitious, finely and lyrically written, and populated with complex characters having to deal with the moral complexities of their world. They're all good, we think, but over time their value seems more even so that good or very good seems to level out. Occasionally, maybe a few times a year, a novel will astonish and impress to such a degree that it rises like a majestic, hooked bass above the pool of the more ordinary, you the proud angler who made the catch. Agaat by Marlene Van Niekerk is such a novel for me, vaulting above everything else I've read this year except perhaps for Teju Cole's Open City.

Agaat tells of the 40-year relationship between a South African farmer's wife and the black housekeeper she raised and has employed since she was a girl. Milla, the white mistress of Grootmoedersdrift, is wife and mother. Agaat, the housekeeper, has spent her life working for Milla, and in the present of the novel cares for her, now reduced to helplessness at the end of life by ALS. The novel has been labeled as allegory, not exactly my favorite thing, but Van Niekerk weaves it so subtly into her lyricism that it's not intrusivly obvious. Agaat was born in 1948, the year apartheid was instituted. Milla in many ways represents white South Africa. And the novel tends in some ways to mirror the relationship between the two populations. Toward the end of the novel I began to suppose the farm is meant to be an emblem for South Africa itself.

It sounds clunky, but Van Niekerk is so skillful the narrative and the womens' relationship literally glide through the pages. The story is told through Milla's present stream of consciousness, a chronological narrative of the family's past, and Milla's diary. In this way we learn of Milla's early care of Agaat, her own son, the troubled relationship with her husband, Jak, and how power ebbs and flows between the 4 characters until, late in life, only the 2 women remain on the farm, locked into their complicated relationship. These characters are made huge by Van Niekerk's lyricism. They fit into a landscape of bedroom and farm made enormous by their mutual needs for each other.

Van Niekerk is primarily a poet. It shows here; much of the novel's language is as fine as poetry. She writes in Afrikaans and is translated here by Michiel Heyns. Still, the combination of her beautiful language and his rendering of it for us is breathtaking. From the rather conventional opening as the son, Jakkie, leaves Canada for the long flight to South Africa to the magnificent ending with its language steeped in Biblical rhythms and myth, this novel never fails to satisfy and astound.

[Gill · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was definitely a 5 star read for me. The writing in this book is exceptional.

I found it difficult to read for 3 reasons: 1/ the structure of each chapter is complicated, including diary entries, free thought stream of consciousness sections, the current thoughts and descriptions by Milla, Milla recounting events from earlier in her life. For the first few chapters I found I had to read at an incredibly slow pace. 2/ the subject matter ie Milla's paralysis and deterioration were at times extremely hard and upsetting to read about. 3/ there was brutality in the book on several occasions.

However, overall I thought it was a fabulous book. The structure of each chapter, which I found so difficult initially, was an excellent way to progress the story and to slowly build up the complete picture. The relationship between Milla and Gaat, with its many aspects and nuances was portrayed and developed brilliantly. The many aspects of life for Afrikaaners in South Africa, over a fifty year period (and beyond), which were unknown to me were of great interest. Van Niekerk's use of language was excellent, I could see the colours and smell the smells etc etc. Much of it was poetic. And amongst the anger and the sadness, there were moments of humour as well!

[Claire · Rating 4 out of 5]

Milla is the only child of a farming family and set to inherit and work her own farm, she is poised to marry Jak as the book opens. The novel explores the growing tension in their relationship through Milla's diaries and the effect of Milla bringing a four year old girl from a troubled family, who has suffered prolonged abuse, into their childless marriage.

The books chapters alternate between the beginning of their life on the farm and the present, when the the girl Agaat, now a mature woman is caring for Milla as her body shuts down, paralysed, infirm, communicating only through her eyes with that character she supposedly "tamed" who she is now completely dependent on for everything.

Narrated through diary excerpts, an omniscient narrator and with a prologue and epilogue that gives voice to the estranged son; it is a haunting, disturbing read and insight into a way of living, cultural attitudes and the longevity of revenge.

Full review here at Word by Word.

[Marie Theron · Rating 5 out of 5]

The book is beyond excellent, one has to read it to appreciate it. I read the English version translated by Michiel Heyns. To read this tome ,I first made an operation down the centre of the spine with a sharp blade. The two sides now sit nicely together on a shelf.



The story is related by Milla in three styles: normal narration from her deathbed where she tells about the present as well as the past, secondly through her early diaries and in the third place through her sometimes delirious stream-of- consciousness thought pattern.(These bits are very lovely and poetic)



Milla reached achievements with Agaat that she could be proud of, and others she must have regretted. All-knowing Agaat never missed a beat! She was both loving and strict (even spiteful at times) and there was a lot of role reversal between madam and maid.



On the periphery of this relationship sat Jak, the patronising husband and Beatrice, the neighbour, who between them represented various racist opinions of farming Afrikaners during the bad political times. There was also Jakkie, who was so totally manipilated by the three people in his life that he had to escape.



I was very irritated that the translator found it necessary to place all those accents on the English words. English in all its centuries of use has never been in need of sentences like this: “Nó, when I gót here everything was wide ópen and the yard desérted and Milla was lying áll on her ówn......” There are pages and pages like this in the first half of the book (see p 274) and then they suddenly disappear in the last part. Were there several translators at work?



Incidentally, Femina magazine only appeared in South Africa much later than the 60's. There are also a few typing mistakes, but do read this book if you want to experience a grand master of writing at work.

[Jenny Benn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nothing short of a masterpiece. An Afrikaans woman on her death bed, mute and paralysed with a motor neuron disease (ALS), reflects on her relationship with her coloured servant Agaat, who is now nursing her. It is exquisitely written - the author has captured the nuances, depths and complexities of apartheid South Africa and the incredible physical beauty of the Western Cape with powerful and haunting prose.

It's a long and painful read, and I read it in between other books as it's too intense to read by itself, but from the last quarter of the book I couldn't put it down. Towards the end, the revelation of the missing piece of this tragedy I found staggering, and I wanted to re-read the book in context.

[Luna Tønnessen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beste boken jeg har lest i mitt liv! Tung og vond men wow for et mesterverk!

[Camilla · Rating 2 out of 5]

There's a tendency in the local literary community to over-value South African literature because it is South African. Bad reviews are rare and even the rare ones are light on the bad. Agaat is an English translation of an Afrikaans book, set on a farm in the province of the Western Cape. The book was translated with the author's input and won a local translation award.

Agaat is a very long book. Also heavy, but I read it on Kindle. This in two sentences could be a summary of my review. Of course, much of the story is missing. The book flicks through three perspectives, set in different time periods. For much of the book, the scenarios repeat themselves, without revealing anything that could not have been revealed more succinctly.

Language influences the way we think and vice versa. Afrikaans literature often has a specific tone and approach. There is of course the love of the land, literally the land, which comes from fighting for survival with and against the earth around you. As this suggests, there is some sentimentalism - interest in the most minute details of interpersonal relationships.

Minute. And tedious. The relationships are unfailingly distressing, until reading becomes a mental exercise in combatting depression. Transformative moments are alluded to and then turn out (only towards the end of the book, as though the author were saving them) to be ordinary, as in consistent with the rest of the book. But the characters, despite these moments, remain the same. Over 30-odd years.

I understand why the book won awards, apart from the industry's permanent waxing. It is well-written, by an author who is clearly experienced. Perhaps it reads better in Afrikaans. However, it reads like a short story strung out over 1000 or so pages. It's worth reading if you're not familiar with the setting or culture, but take your happy pills first.

http://in-search-of-something.blogspo...

[Sookie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Once Van Nierkerk style becomes familiar, Agaat becomes an incredibly personal read. With her lyrical style (the translator mentions in advance the difficulty in translating some of the verses and period dependent colloquialism), she writes a story that takes place in a farm and the relationships that born and die. The story itself is a mask to the fundamental issue that the country is undergoing - apartheid. Agaat is born in the year apartheid was institutionalized. Thus begins her journey in a farm with young white family and her relationship with the mistress of the house - Milla.

Van Niekerk's narration isn't linear and this slows the pacing, and stumbles to find footing when inferences have to be made while reading some diary entries. For a novel of this size, this back and forth is a bit of tedious exercise and discovering more about a character based on their diary can give a biased view. With Milla now succumbing to ALS, her point of view is very dynamic and has a voice-over quality to it. With Agaat, Van Niekerk shifts the tone to that of sombre matter-of-fact that is often detached and tints with her underlying anger. Van Niekerk switches the tone of the two characters effortlessly.

Agaat is an intense read. Its quite distressing with bursts of violent depictions or the stagnation that comes from confined to space for a very long time. In this form of isolation, even most banal circumstances echo an extraordinary reaction. Its not an easy read for all these reasons and also the style aspect of it. But in the end, its worth all the effort, time and eventual heavy heart.

[Betty · Rating 5 out of 5]

The heroines Milla and Agaat, strong female characters, rise above societal expectations and practices in South Africa while affirming the good of its heritage and while celebrating and preserving its extraordinary varieties of nature. Four voices, many forms of writing from narrative to stream-of-consciousness prose poems, to realist details make this a literary work. Reading the story is like listening to its breathing or heartbeats, long passages suddenly rapidly paced followed by a brief lull. How is the patient or character doing? Literally, caring for Grootmoedersdrift farm and for its ill people and animals is part of the setting. Those two protagonists do that extraordinarily well and intelligently, forming almost their own coterie. A favorite word of Milla is her moieties, oppositions within herself that constitute herself; so while carrying on the instructive and managing sides very well, her difficult marriage to Jak is not a model. Since the story is mostly told by Milla and is often about Agaat--in narration and diaries and in the Epilogue by Agaat whose version Milla's son Jakkie retells word for word--only a few men like Milla's father and the Dutch Reformed Church's dominee are pleasantly depicted. With a catalogue of details, the author/Milla recreates that part of the world under the heavens, all its moieties part of it.

[Megan Twitchell · Rating 5 out of 5]

A very hard read but so so good. Such a complex story of societal structure, racism, motherhood and love. These characters are flawed but you see them at every single angle. Probably the most in depth and nuanced character development I have ever read. Absolutely incredible.

[Merilee · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the best novels I've read in the last five years.

[Tittirossa · Rating 5 out of 5]

È complesso come un palinsesto più volte riscritto ma ha una scrittura ammaliante.
In sintesi estrema narra la vita di una coppia di agricoltori della provincia del Capo (Sud Africa), Milla e Jak, del loro unico figlio Jakkie e di Agaat, prima serva poi – post apartheid – governante. La narrazione intreccia, in un gioco ad incastri perfetto, tre piani (più la cornice contemporanea delle azioni di Jakkie): i pensieri di Milla, paralizzata a letto con Agaat che la accudisce, che seguono un continuo altalenare tra passato e presente; i diari di Milla dal 1950, riletti da Agaat con intento più che polemico; gli elenchi “poetici” che di quando in quando infiammano e puntualizzano la narrazione.
La trama è la storia della relazioni tra i quattro, parecchio complicate!
Tra il detto, il non detto, il compreso, l’urlato, il silenziosamente imposto.
Inizia in pieno apartheid, anni ’50, Milla sposata e senza figli - si fa carico di Agaat, bimba nera di 4 anni focomelica (ha un braccio più corto) supermaltrattata, con grossi problemi e si impegna allo spasimo a fare di lei un essere umano (sic).
Jak è contrario: un nero è sempre un nero in fin dei conti, ed è crudele fargli pensare che possa essere qualcosa di più. Poi Milla rimane incinta e l’evidenza della ragione di Jak si impone, per cui Agaat assume una posizione non-nera e non-bianca, da piccola governante-babysitter (ha circa 14 anni) diviene il nume tutelare della casa che tutto vede e tutto risolve.
La vita segue il suo corso, Milla non riuscirà più a stabilire un contatto con Agaat (che invece è amica-madre-sorella di Jakkie), entrerà sempre più in rotta di collisione con Jak, e non sarà mai più che una figura sullo sfondo per il figlio.
Poi sopravviene l’Alzhaimer e Milla e Agaat fanno un patto, una si prenderà cura dell’altra fino alla morte.
E la devastante narrazione della malattia e del progredire della decadenza fisica è uno dei vertici del libro: asciutta, ironica ma umanissima e “carnale”, senza la minima concessione al patetico o al ruffiano.
Il libro si chiude con un dubbio insolubile: il fortissimo legame tra Milla e Agaat è riuscito a superare il risentimento e a recuperare l’affetto iniziale? O è una forma di vendetta da parte di Agaat e un impossibile tentativo di riconciliazione di Milla?
La parte buonista del lettore tifa per questa soluzione, in cui Agaat capisce gli imperdonabili errori di Milla (la narrazione è perfetta anche perché non giustifica mai il comportamento dei bianchi nei confronti dei neri, né lo stigmatizza ma rispecchia il comune sentire, anche odierno, dei “padroni”).
Una perfetta metafora dell’apartheid (col bianco liberal = Milla, quello classico = Jak, e quello che si sente in colpa = Jakkie), che non offre alcuna soluzione consolatoria.
Perché la violenza perpetrata, fisica mentale psicologica, è stata tale che di certo nessuna vendetta (ma anche nessun pentimento) potrà mai sanarla. Forse solo il tempo, molto tempo, ci riuscirà.

[Stefani · Rating 5 out of 5]

I initially considered not reading this book. Mostly because it tipped the scales at nearly 600 pages, but also because I found myself immediately confused by the reverse chronology of the novel as well as the meandering philosophical musings of a bed bound woman unable to communicate with language. Eventually, I relented and gave it another go, immersing me deeply in the saga of the de Witt family and Agaat's transformation from orphaned child to pseudo-child to servant/slave.

The book revolves around a multigenerational farm inherited by Milla, a self-described plain-looking woman who feels she's struck gold in her marriage to Jak de Wet, a man whose good looks and charm belie his abusive and sadistic tendencies. Jak lets his facade slip quite early —the day before she's going to be married — when, in a fit of rage, he shoves and slaps Milla with such force, she must sew sleeves onto her wedding dress to cover the bruises. Refusing to let this incident destroy her fantasy of wedded bliss, Milla marries Jak, enduring not only physical and unrelenting mental abuse, but also deep sadness when she's unable to have children. She encounters Agaat, the neglected daughter of the caretakers on Milla's childhood residence, and decides to adopt her as a surrogate child, which is viewed with scorn and judgement by neighbors still governed by apartheid. When Milla unexpectedly becomes pregnant, however, the societal pressure becomes too overwhelming, and Agaat is immediately demoted from daughter to servant, yet remains fiercely loyal to the only family she's ever really known. Eventually, the roles reverse, and Milla is paralyzed by a degenerative and terminal illness, leaving her reliant on Agaat for 24/7 care. The story is told, in reverse, through Milla's diaries, as she moves closer to death.

As despicable as most of the characters in this novel are, I do remain sympathetic to Milla's predicament as a battered wife and essentially sole proprietor of the farm. We see the cracks in Milla's character filtered through Jak's perspective – she's alternately described as controlling and irrational — yet she defies societal scorn and disapproval to take in Agaat, and, later, has an unmedicated birth in the back of a car on a deserted road, instructing the inexperienced Agaat to “cut her open” to release the baby. She's surviving on her own in a culture that's equally hostile to Africans as it is to women. Through her diaries, we find out much of Milla's rage is misplaced sadness as a result of being unable to express her love for Agaat and her impotence toward her failed relationship with the son that Agaat raises, and that Milla barely knows.

Though it's no feminist manifesto, it's a redemptive story of the ability to prevail in the face of unfathomable odds. The end-of-life musings that lead to a reckoning with the past, an acknowledgement of regret, and a desire to right the wrongs that one has perpetuated.

[Ronald Morton · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a difficult book.

Not because of the subject matter, though the subject matter is weighty and nuanced. Not because of the style of presentation, though the narratives demand your constant attention to ensure you catching the intricacies of their interplays. Not even because of the characters, though – for most of them – you will go from loving to loathing to hating to loving each of them in turn throughout the book. Instead, it is difficult because it will sneak up on you and break your heart. I wish I could say “and you’ll thank it for it” – but you won’t; I wish I could say “you’ll cherish it for it” – but you also won’t.

I think the best you can do is stand back and gape in wonder at the achievement of it. Because it is an achievement. The characters are some of the most nuanced I’ve come across in recent memory; but more than that, the way the author manages to capture and contain the final 40 years of Apartheid South Africa and cram as much of it as she can into one family narrative is astonishing. The fact that she does so without ever really investigating the actual historic events – but instead by capturing the struggle, the transition of power, and the implications of the policies themselves – is incredible. You’ll finish the book with no facts but a certainty of the emotions. How true those emotions are is up for debate, but they’ll feel true – and sometimes – especially in the face of terrible, almost unthinkable, oppression, that’s the most we as readers can ask for.

[Katie · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is one of those books that I wanted so much to like. I had many moments where I recognized how good of a book it was, but I just never really enjoyed reading it and I think the fault is mine.

Agaat takes place in South Africa and tells the story of a white woman, Milla, who has advanced ALS and is mostly paralyzed, and her black maid, Agaat. The complicated relationship between the two women is slowly revealed throughout the novel.

The narrative style can be quite difficult to digest, and while I appreciate it, I don't think I had the patience for it while I was reading. The story is not told in chronological order and much of it is told without complete sentences. There are a lot of other liberties taken in the writing that made it difficult for me to read, and I was just never all that excited to pick it up. But again, I suspect the fault is mine because I think it is actually a really good book.

[Kkraemer]

This book took FOREVER to read. It's the story of a woman in the last stages of ALS who is, of course, reviewing her life. She's not a nice person. Even her memories show her to be somewhat imperious and incapable of thinking (or caring) about the feelings of other people. Some of the book is told in present tense...what is happening as she lays there; other parts are told in retrospect, and there are some italicized parts that are streams of consciousness. I was frustrated by how slowly the book unfolded, but at the end, I was stunned by its power. I learned and understood things that I'd never "gotten" by reading about the history of South Africa, or by reading the classical literature. It's a metaphorical work as well as a "realistic fiction," one that I value (now that it's finished!)

[Bev]

Oh, my,what a BIG book this one is - quite a challenge in itself to get through this plus a couple of others within the next month. This is the sort of book which, if you don't like it, would make a great door stopper.

How many stars to give a book which you almost gave up on after 300-odd pages, but are glad that you perservered with but which nevertheless causes you to lie awake at night? Even a star rating is difficult with this one. I can't say I "liked" it, but I thought it a mighty book, and so I guess it hovers between three and five stars, depending on my mood when I consider it.

[Gillian Nicholson · Rating 5 out of 5]

My Top 100.
Consuming and compelling. The multi layered main characters unfold and expose their complexities. The inter family relationships like any other, or are they?
Staccato words pepper the page in descriptive, unpunctuated prose.
The South African farm, Trudeau Pass, flora, fauna and surroundings are painted in pixel fine words. The diaries and dialogues are an intense emotional introspection for the reader. The unfolding events, the back and forth of the time line, and the storyline are mesmerizing.
Marlene van Niekerk, I salute you. South African historical fiction at its best.

[RKanimalkingdom]

DNF

pg 161

I tried with this book but just could not get into it. There were 3 plot lines and I was only interested in 1. There was a lot of weird stuff too and the style of writing was really hard to keep up with. I got tired after a while

[Gina Whitlock · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was an extremely difficult book to read but I'm glad I endured to the end. Part of it is stream of consciousness, part from the present day point of view where Mila has ALS, part of it from the past. I didn't like the stream of consciousness sections at all. I'm not very goo at understanding that. The present day was difficult to read because of her bodily reactions to the ALS, so I got most of my enjoyment from the sections on the past. It was not an easy life and she suffered with her husband and soon, along with coloured Agaat who was "adopted" when she thought she was barren. I'm sure I missed so much because of lack of understanding. Don't read it when you're sad.

[Amira Chatti · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tears fell down my face like a stream when I was reading the part where Jakkie inspects his deceased mother's room 💔
It has taken me over a year to finish this voluminous novel. I would leave it and go to other books until I decided one day that I needed to finish it. It was not because of its volume, it was because of its emotional overweight. Most of the times I felt it sickening with all its events and sad turns. I felt sorry for Milla, a life lived in vain, and it wnded like a blow in the wind. It got me thinking about our individual choices and the pressure to satisfy those who are impossible to please, those who do not see any good in us, those who want us for themselves. The narrative text, the voice, the multiple points of view, the flashbacks, the use of many intertextual elements, all these and maybe more make the book stand distinguished in a vast South African literary cannon.

[anette · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ai. Incredible!

[Monet · Rating 5 out of 5]

Moontlik die beste boek wat ek nog gelees het. Seer en rou en verkeerd en mooi.

[Buchdoktor · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kamilla de Vet ist unheilbar an ALS (Amyotropher Lateralsklerose) erkrankt und hat nicht mehr lange zu leben. Der Sarg ist gekauft, das Grab schon ausgehoben. Die Patientin, in ihren erkrankten Körper eingeschlossen, kann selbst nur noch die Augenlider öffnen oder schließen und ist völlig auf ihre Pflegerin Agaat angewiesen. Millas einzig verbliebene Kraft ist ihre Vorstellungskraft. Ihr Sohn Jakkie ist bereits aus Kanada auf dem Weg nach Südafrika, um sich von seiner Mutter zu verabschieden. Die 70-jährige Milla und die eine Generation jüngere Agaat verbindet ein besonderes Verhältnis, das sich im Dialog der beiden Frauen, aus Millas Tagebüchern und einer weiteren Erzählperspektive erschließt, in der Milla sich als „du“ anspricht und ihre Erinnerungen an sich vorbeiziehen lässt. Der Dialog der beiden Frauen muss einseitig bleiben; denn Milla kann nur Ja oder Nein signalisieren, und Agaat versteht die Dinge so, wie sie sie gern verstehen will. Alles, was Milla ein Leben lang Agaat gegenüber an Redensarten und Allgemeinplätzen von sich gegeben hat, kommt nun wie ein Bumerang zu ihr zurück, ohne dass sie sich dagegen wehren könnte. Als Milla mit letzten Kräften versucht, sich von Agaat etwas bringen zu lassen, von dem sie nicht deutlich machen kann, was sie meint, stelle ich mir vor, wie schrecklich es für einen Hilfebedürftigen sein muss, wenn er über etwas Abstraktes sprechen möchte, das die Pflegeperson evtl. gar nicht kennt.

Rückblicke in unterschiedlichen Tonlagen führen in die 60er Jahre zurück. Milla heiratete damals Jakobus de Vet und beschloss, die Farm ihrer Großmutter wieder selbst zu bewirtschaften, die ihre Eltern mehr schlecht als recht einem Verwalter überlassen hatten. Milla hat die Verwaltung eines landwirtschaftlichen Betriebes mit Mischwirtschaft wie selbstverständlich im Elternhaus gelernt und geht irrtümlich davon aus, das sie die Farm gemeinsam mit Jak führen wird, der so offensichtlich interessiert daran war, eine Frau mit Grundbesitz zu heiraten. Doch schnell wird deutlich, dass die beiden an der Aufgabenverteilung zwischen Mann und Frau und damit auch an der Anleitung ihrer schwarzen Arbeiter scheitern. Ein "Baas" und eine Farmerin müssen sich den Respekt ihres Personals durch tägliche Präsenz immer neu erarbeiten. Wenn Milla den ganzen Tag aktiv im Betrieb arbeiten will, braucht sie in einem großen Haushalt eine erfahrene vertrauenswürdige Haushälterin, die das Hauspersonal beaufsichtigt. Für den Haushalt bildet Milla aber nur die kleine Agaat aus, die damals noch ein Kind ist und von der den Lesern lange nicht klar ist, wie sie überhaupt in die Familie de Vet gelangt ist. Agaat ist allein Millas Geschöpf, alles was sie lernt, hat sie von Milla gelernt. Die Hausherrin zwingt Agaat (ein anfangs zwölfjähriges Kind!) gnadenlos, zusätzlich zum Haushalt und zur Kinderpflege auch die Landwirtschaft zu lernen. Man könnte vermuten, dass Milla in Agaat mit Gewalt eine Perfektion durchsetzen will, an der sie selbst so offensichtlich gescheitert ist. In einem Land mit Rassentrennung per Gesetz wird es erhebliche Probleme geben, wenn Arbeitgeber zulassen, dass ein schwarzes Dienstmädchen in der Hierarchie der Farm eine zu mächtige Rolle einnimmt. Dieses für das Verständnis von Ereignissen in Südafrika entscheidende Faktum hat der Texter/die Texterin des Klappentextes nicht begriffen, sonst würde dort nicht die völlig undenkbare Vorstellung genannt, ein schwarzes Hausmädchen könnte in Südafrika 1960 „mit zur Familie“ gehört haben. Agaat kann zwar Millas Sohn Jakkie wie ein eigenes Kind aufziehen, aber die de Vets konnten zur Zeit der Handlung unmöglich im Apartheids-Staat öffentlich gemeinsam mit Agaat auftreten.

Mit dem Verhältnis zwischen einer völlig hilflosen Patientin und ihrer vertrauten Pflegerin schafft Marlene van Niekerk den Rahmen für eine vielschichtige Handlung, in der es nicht nur um die Beziehung dieser beiden Frauen geht, sondern um das staatlich erzwungene Verhältnis zwischen Schwarz und Weiß zur Zeit der Apartheid, um Eifersucht zwischen Mutter und Kindermädchen, um männliche und weibliche Rollenbilder und das Verhältnis zwischen einem Farmer und "seinen" schwarzen Arbeitern in Südafrika. Außerordentlich beeindruckend finde ich die unterschiedlichen Tonlagen, in denen van Niekerk erzählt, darunter Millas Lautmalereien ("girts, garts", zieht sie die Handschuhe an), mit denen sie ihre begrenzte Wahrnehmung wiedergibt. Wem es beim Lesen gelingt, die europäische Brille seines persönlichen Urteils über eine uns fremde Kultur beiseitezulegen, der wird aus den gegenseitigen Abhängigkeiten zwischen Schwarz und Weiß auf der Farm Grootmoedersdrift erkennen können, wie die Verhältnisse der 60er Jahre zu den ungelösten Problemen des heutigen Südafrika geführt haben.

[Ka Vee · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5*

[Lori]

ARC from publisher


I wasn't sure what to think when I decided to tackle this brick of a book at the beginning of the month, other than (1) It's not something I would normally read and (2) Oh Boy, this one is going to take awhile!

Tin House Books has been working hard promoting the pants off of this book, and rightly so. The author, South African native Marlene van Niekerk, creates the epic story of Milla - a 60+ year old white South African woman who is slowly dying of ALS - and her relationship with Agaat - her colored house servant turned personal nurse.

At the surface, we are witness to Milla's last days; unable to move or speak, forced to communicate solely with her eyes, and completely at the mercy of Agaat, her one and only care taker. Agaat, a woman who has spent her entire life working on Milla's farm as a house slave, fiercely independent, and knowledgeable of her patients every want or need, sometimes delivers them in humiliating and cruel ways.

As the story progresses, we discover that both Milla and Agaat's lives are weighed down with secrets. Milla was once married to a drunk abusive man. She had a son with him, a son whom Agaat reared and raised as if her very own. Dark and twisted things lye buried in their pasts.

Van Niekerk moves the story along, delving deeper and deeper into each of these women's past, by applying an interesting story-telling technique: switching the format 4 times within each chapter.

Each chapter begins with Milla in her current incapacitated state, where we, the reader, are plunged into her head, hearing her every thought, feeling her every need, suffering as she suffers.

It then changes into a 'second person' narrative, maintaining our connection to Milla by referring to us as Milla. The timeline moves back along Milla's past, outlining the struggles with her husband Jak, and her devotion to Agaat.

The third technique is typed out in italics, and appears to be a jumbled, unstructured series of memories. Written out with limited punctuation, Milla is communicating fleeting thoughts and feelings, as one would expect in a dream-like state.

The final switch returns us to Milla's past again, via her diary entries, which are marked by date.

Knowing that, due to it's size, Agaat was going to take me longer than usual to complete, I set up a Twitter hashtag in which I documented my progress as I read. I hadn't ever done anything like that before, and it was an interesting way to record my thoughts and feelings as I moved throughout the novel.

The deeper into the story I travelled, the more caught up I became in it. The author, skilled in the art of "keeping the reader waiting", teased me with just enough backstory... Led me further and further into the dark and layered pasts of Milla, Jak, their son Jakkie, and Agaat's lives... Showed me an inkling more of what was to come, and what had come to pass. I think the best way to describe it would be comparing it to a really great tv show, where the characters are all moving towards some great discovery, and right before they uncover it.... we get a commercial break!

There were some cringe worthy moments buried here and there. The entire novel takes place on Milla's farm, so I found myself sadly reading through a pretty graphic slaughter scene. And this one I should have seen coming - With Milla being completely paralyzed, I had the wonderful experience of reading about her bowel movements (yuck! ugh! bleck!).. and of her suffering horribly with an itch she cannot scratch that spreads throughout her entire body (oh itchy itchy, it made ME itchy!).

If this story had a moral attached to it, I would have to say "be careful what you teach people, and how you treat them"... because you never know how it will manifest itself later!

Though not a book I would have read on my own, it would appear I owe another thank you to the wonderful people of Tin House for sending it along with other review copies.

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 2 out of 5]

Agaat tells the story of the complex dynamics of a small South African farming family, Milla, who inherits a family farm, her husband Jak, Agaat, the neglected and abused young daughter of one of her mother's farmhands, who Milla adopts, and Milla's son Jakkie.

Milla is lying paralysed and dying of motor neurone disease, able only to blink her eyes but fully lucid, while Agaat cares for her, and the story is told through her thoughts, flashbacks and diary entries.

The novel packs in several different themes:

- complex inter-family and master-servant relationships. Milla is unsparing on even herself in her recollections, recalling her husband's complaint

"But do you know Milla, what it's like to spend your days next to a woman who always knows better. In whose eyes you can't do anything right? For whom everything you tackle is doomed in advance"

- indirect but very telling observations on the apartheid regime, as Milla brings up the coloured child Agaat and encounters prejudice from family, neighbours, the establishment and even the farmhands. Even Milla's own motivations are suspect - she seems to treat Agaat more as a trained animal performing tricks than a pari passu family member, and once she has a biological son Agaat is soon relegated albeit to a still relatively priviliged housekeeper role.

- a deliberately painfully detailed and claustrophic description of Milla's last days. Neatly the story offers parallels between Agaat caring for the helpless Milla and Milla's drawout attempts to communicate through Milla's eye contacts and blinking, with Milla's own initial caring for the mute and feral Agaat when she is first adopted. Indeed Agaat appears to quite deliberately be mirroring her treatment as a child as Milla regresses to childhood helplessness.

- and a warts and all heavily researched and detailed, indeed perhaps overly detailed, description of farming life.

The overall effect is that the novel is an impressive achievement, but the net effect is a rather sprawling read of almost 700 pages. I have no objection to long books, quite the contrary if the story or quality of prose justifies it, but here one felt van Niekerk has tried to pack too many things in, and failed to come up with a more compact way of covering the different themes.

Which, of course, only increases my admiration for the translator, Michiel Heyns.

[Juniper · Rating 3 out of 5]

oh boy.

i really don't know how to review this one. i suspect it is one that is going to sit with me for a long while and that my rating will likely increase over time, as i get further beyond the read. i liked it but, right now, i can't say i loved it. i felt too much was left dangling and that for the work of the read, i am left a bit unfulfilled.

the story is heartbreaking and unsettling. the style is interesting and effective. to a point. i think where i am feeling a bit lost with it all has to do with the fact that the perspective is very narrow. the title of the book is 'agaat' and we get her story, but it comes through the filter of another character, milla. towards they end of the book, we get a bit more from agaat's side of things. for me, that just wasn't quite enough.

(i also suspect that if journals had not been used as a narrative device, i might be feeling differently abut the perspectives. we get single perspectives in fiction all of the time, but in this read, it really stood out for me as too narrow given the subject, agaat, was evolved mostly through diary entries not of her own hand.)

the narration is unreliable - and i don' t mind that in fiction. in fact, i tend to like it a lot. but this book almost verges on meta-unreliable narrator - is that a thing?? i might have just made that up. heh.

agaat is a complicated and dense novel but i do feel as though it is an important book that more people should read. and when you do...you can come and tell me what i am missing. what is it that should be giving it a 4- or 5-star rating over my 'it was fine' 3-stars. okay? thanks! :)