The charming voice of an 11-year-old boy, with an English mother and an Afrikaner father, introduces us to his life in a comfortable suburb in Johannesburg, South Africa in the early 1980s. The premise and the narrative voice have considerable promise. The boy's observations seem random, though, and give more weight to his experiments with masturbation than to the more interesting bits about his relationship with Susie, his black housekeeper/nanny, which are the meat of the book. The voice is also inconsistent, at times seeming, if anything, too naive for an 11-year-old and at other times way too sophisticated, as in the following: "I always thought that humanity, not taken individually, but aggregated, their sentiments, their thoughts, their actions, their systems, their judgments, was an ineffective but still functioning ballast against the arbitrary, the random, the absurd, the power lines in the way of the mast, the cancer in the spine, and all the other things which were improbable, individually, but still happened an awful lot, when aggregated. But there were men in prison serving longer sentences for burglaries and traffic violations [than Susie's son did for murdering his father], so one could only conclude that humanity, rather than a ballast against the arbitrary, was, through paperwork and forms and stamps and considered judgments and all that was officialdom, its very agent."