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Before The Knife: Memories Of An African Childhood
Carolyn Slaughter is the author of ten critically acclaimed novels, but for the last twelve years she has been completely silent. She had become conscious that there was something hidden in her past that had always haunted her fiction but which she had never fully faced. This powerful memoir is the result of confronting the truth about her traumatic childhood.
Carolyn's father was in the colonial service, but he lacked power and was ashamed of his Irish origins. In private, he was capable of acts of absolute sadism. When Carolyn was small, they lived comfortably in Swaziland having left India during the Partition. But when she turned six, things changed. Her mother gave birth to another daughter and they were posted to a remote area in the Kalahari desert. Bereft of a civilized social life, her mother plunged into a deep depression and turned completely away from Carolyn. While her older sister found friends and left for boarding school, Carolyn suffered a desperate sense of abandonment and loss and turned to the landscape of the Kalahari itself for solace.
The stark fact that Carolyn was first raped by her father at the age of six is contained within the prologue and epilogue of this book. What lies in between is the story of an extraordinary childhood in Africa and a moving depiction of the complexities at the root of our relationships with mother, father, siblings. Despite its sometimes harrowing contents, it is a work of great, dangerous beauty.
242 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2002
7 people are currently reading
194 people want to read
About the author
Carolyn Slaughter
19 books13 followersCarolyn Slaughter was born in New Delhi, India, and spent most of her childhood in the Kalahari Desert of what is now Botswana. Soon after leaving Africa in 1961, she wrote what would later become her highly acclaimed novel Dreams of the Kalahari. She followed this with eight more novels. After living for many years in London, she moved to the United States with her family in 1986.
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
July 9, 2024
Not only a memoir of her African childhood but of her horrific parents and what she endured in those infamous boarding schools so in vogue at the time. Not what I expected from this book but totally engrossing.
March 6, 2013
I enjoyed this story about growing up in Africa. I admit that I love Africa and stories of people who came of age there and have read many; this one is more personal than most because the focus is on the personal relationships and inner family turmoil of the author vs. the outer elements, animals, culture, etc. All the same both are present throughout the book and I found it engaging, and an easy read that held my interest. The story of a very tough childhood is told in a way that does not seem designed to evoke any particular response in the reader but just to tell things as they are remembered. It is often hard to look at things as we remember them, or as they are, or to know the difference. The perspective offered here will be of particular interest to anyone who had to deal with incest or molestation issues growing up, but I think anyone who enjoys true stories about life in Africa or about growing up under difficult circumstances will find something to relate to here.
May 6, 2016
If you have the courage to brave the dark without a candle, this slim volume is well worth the effort. At once disturbing and courageous, it combines an eloquent description of life under colonial rule, the landscapes and mores of Africa and India, and the inner conflicts of a child traumatised by a violent sexually predatory father and a cold self-centred mother. Gripping and evocative it will hold your attention effortlessly.
September 19, 2020
In Before The Knife Carolyn Slaughter describes her childhood, a fraught, anxious prelude to an adulthood that continued to suffer from its heritage. She tells us early on in the book what caused this anguish, and what gave rise to its associated self-pity, self-abuse and anger. She was raped by her father at the age of six. But then the book unfolds almost without another mention of the trauma until its reality is finally recognized, long after the father, the self-tortured mother, and even the younger sister have gone to their graves.
Carolyn Slaughter’s life, though not fully acknowledged in the book, could only have been lived in a narrow window of history. The British Empire, always eager to install a white face in a position of colonial authority where people of race might not be trusted, elevated many lower middle class émigrés to effective aristocracy. It meant that they could only feel at home, that is, only attain the status they assumed, if they lived outside of the Sceptred Isle.
Carolyn’s mother had been born and brought up in India. She had grown used to a life with servants, where sewing, cooking and cleaning could be delegated to the competent. This created time for the important things in life, like deciding what to wear for dinner, what would go with what, and whether the lunch invitees would gel. Not that there were many expatriates to invite in the Kalahari Desert.
Carolyn Slaughter seems to have lived an itinerant’s life. More significantly she seems to have adopted an itinerant relationship with life. It happened as a result of denial, as a result of not accepting or acknowledging what happened to her. The father, a shop worker back home, was a District Commissioner in the Empire when his white face provided his main qualification. His wife, Carolyn’s mother, unable to accept what the daughter had told her or, indeed what evidence proved, slumped into a private depression that never left her. The author’s African childhood was almost wholly unhappy, even depressing. Her tantrums angered others, her self-abuse threatened her own life, and yet the father who was the source of the tragedy soldiered on, apparently stoically, delivering whatever duty the assumptions of Empire might demand.
There were times when I lost touch with the sense of depression and foreboding, periods in the book when I knew things were lighter and brighter than the reminiscences suggested. Occasionally, the weight being borne got too much. But then I had a happy childhood, without abuse, indeed with love, affection, and support throughout, so who am I to criticize this insight into a world I never knew?
So, towards the end of the account, when the horror of the abuse can be re-lived in later life and thus partially expunged, we can sense the destructive havoc it has wreaked through the family’s life. It’s a rather one-paced account, but the seriousness of its focus justifies its form.
Carolyn Slaughter’s life, though not fully acknowledged in the book, could only have been lived in a narrow window of history. The British Empire, always eager to install a white face in a position of colonial authority where people of race might not be trusted, elevated many lower middle class émigrés to effective aristocracy. It meant that they could only feel at home, that is, only attain the status they assumed, if they lived outside of the Sceptred Isle.
Carolyn’s mother had been born and brought up in India. She had grown used to a life with servants, where sewing, cooking and cleaning could be delegated to the competent. This created time for the important things in life, like deciding what to wear for dinner, what would go with what, and whether the lunch invitees would gel. Not that there were many expatriates to invite in the Kalahari Desert.
Carolyn Slaughter seems to have lived an itinerant’s life. More significantly she seems to have adopted an itinerant relationship with life. It happened as a result of denial, as a result of not accepting or acknowledging what happened to her. The father, a shop worker back home, was a District Commissioner in the Empire when his white face provided his main qualification. His wife, Carolyn’s mother, unable to accept what the daughter had told her or, indeed what evidence proved, slumped into a private depression that never left her. The author’s African childhood was almost wholly unhappy, even depressing. Her tantrums angered others, her self-abuse threatened her own life, and yet the father who was the source of the tragedy soldiered on, apparently stoically, delivering whatever duty the assumptions of Empire might demand.
There were times when I lost touch with the sense of depression and foreboding, periods in the book when I knew things were lighter and brighter than the reminiscences suggested. Occasionally, the weight being borne got too much. But then I had a happy childhood, without abuse, indeed with love, affection, and support throughout, so who am I to criticize this insight into a world I never knew?
So, towards the end of the account, when the horror of the abuse can be re-lived in later life and thus partially expunged, we can sense the destructive havoc it has wreaked through the family’s life. It’s a rather one-paced account, but the seriousness of its focus justifies its form.
February 3, 2011
Before I talk about the book, let me say a few words about the author. I discovered Carolyn Slaughter 20 odd years ago, purely by accident. I came across her novel, The Banquet in a book store and its tag line “a taut and powerful story of obsessive love” caught my attention. Well of course it did. At the time I was madly (and a little obsessively) in love myself. I devoured the book and then went looking for more. In a second hand store I came across her novel Relations (which is also known as The Story of the Weasel in that weird way books have their name changed between the UK and North America). That book was stunning. That book caused me to write a letter to Ms. Slaughter, the first and only fan letter I have ever written to an author. A letter to which she replied. In total I have read six novels by Ms. Slaughter (I highly recommend Magdalene as well as the two I have already mentioned) and I count myself a huge fan. She is an immensely talented writer.
Her memoir wasn’t what I expected, however, and I can’t say I loved it. Born in India, her parents moved to Africa when Slaughter was very young. Her father had some sort of government job; her mother was mostly emotionally unavailable and Carolyn, her older sister, Angela and her younger sister, Susan, had a weird and unhappy childhood.
Carolyn prefaces her story by telling the reader of a horrific incident that happened to her when she was six. Then she goes on to say that Before the Knife isn’t a memoir about that. Except it is - because Carolyn was clearly shaped by what happened to her. She does her best to survive her cruel mother and horrible father and much of her survival depends on her affinity with the land. She clearly loves Africa, its wild and exotic landscape a place of refuge for her.
The story covers Slaughter’s life from her arrival in Africa to her return to England when she’s 16 or so. The pages in between are filled with striking images of the land, the people (both blacks and whites) who occupied it and Slaughter’s complicated and strained relationship with her siblings and parents. She’s not entirely likable – prone to violence against others and herself.
It’s not until years later, when she herself remembers what had transpired when she was just a little girl, that her story comes into focus. By then, though, I felt disconnected from her – the strange little bits of revealed life never really coming together. And I really wish she’d talked about writing.
Nevertheless, I have no regrets about reading her story. There was certainly nothing ordinary about it!
Her memoir wasn’t what I expected, however, and I can’t say I loved it. Born in India, her parents moved to Africa when Slaughter was very young. Her father had some sort of government job; her mother was mostly emotionally unavailable and Carolyn, her older sister, Angela and her younger sister, Susan, had a weird and unhappy childhood.
Carolyn prefaces her story by telling the reader of a horrific incident that happened to her when she was six. Then she goes on to say that Before the Knife isn’t a memoir about that. Except it is - because Carolyn was clearly shaped by what happened to her. She does her best to survive her cruel mother and horrible father and much of her survival depends on her affinity with the land. She clearly loves Africa, its wild and exotic landscape a place of refuge for her.
The story covers Slaughter’s life from her arrival in Africa to her return to England when she’s 16 or so. The pages in between are filled with striking images of the land, the people (both blacks and whites) who occupied it and Slaughter’s complicated and strained relationship with her siblings and parents. She’s not entirely likable – prone to violence against others and herself.
It’s not until years later, when she herself remembers what had transpired when she was just a little girl, that her story comes into focus. By then, though, I felt disconnected from her – the strange little bits of revealed life never really coming together. And I really wish she’d talked about writing.
Nevertheless, I have no regrets about reading her story. There was certainly nothing ordinary about it!
February 28, 2016
Though "Before The Knife" is set in the Kalahari Desert, it is less a story about Africa and more about the devastating effects of childhood abuse.
Carolyn Slaughter recalls her childhood in Botswana in such vivid detail that you are transported to her time there. Time spent doing whatever she could to avoid confronting her dark secret until it grew inside of her and manifested itself in a hatred of everyone around her, but especially her abuser.
Though it is less a story about Africa, its politics and its people than it is about a horrible dysfunctional family, you do get the sense that the beauty of Africa is what helped her get through all those years spent being hurt by her father. She would sneak off at night to watch the natives drinking and dancing around the fire and she envied the freedom they had. Something that was never hers in the violent, repressive household she grew up in.
Throughout the book, Slaughter never tells you exactly what happened as she lay in her bed at night, a six year old child who would grow to fear the dark. And then, she finally tells you and there it is in all its bloody horror, tying everything together. All the pain that cut through her is made real by the way she describes the moment he first came into her room and placed the pillow over her head.
By the time you're finished with the book, you are left with a sense that this is a remarkable woman and a great writer.
Carolyn Slaughter recalls her childhood in Botswana in such vivid detail that you are transported to her time there. Time spent doing whatever she could to avoid confronting her dark secret until it grew inside of her and manifested itself in a hatred of everyone around her, but especially her abuser.
Though it is less a story about Africa, its politics and its people than it is about a horrible dysfunctional family, you do get the sense that the beauty of Africa is what helped her get through all those years spent being hurt by her father. She would sneak off at night to watch the natives drinking and dancing around the fire and she envied the freedom they had. Something that was never hers in the violent, repressive household she grew up in.
Throughout the book, Slaughter never tells you exactly what happened as she lay in her bed at night, a six year old child who would grow to fear the dark. And then, she finally tells you and there it is in all its bloody horror, tying everything together. All the pain that cut through her is made real by the way she describes the moment he first came into her room and placed the pillow over her head.
By the time you're finished with the book, you are left with a sense that this is a remarkable woman and a great writer.
February 26, 2020
Once again I am submitting a second review after my Kindle app swallowed the one I began when I first finished the book.
It doesn’t really matter, though. There are plenty of reviews here to pique your interest.
All I will say is that for me, this book was engulfing.
There is no other place (save Scotland) that I’ve more wanted to travel to, than Africa. Carolyn Slaughter took me there, without a doubt. And even though I’m left with many more questions than answers (not to mention a deep-seated desire to slap her incompetent mothers’ pinched face), I am in no way entitled to ask them.
The horror that was her family life (behind closed doors) vs. the beauty of Africa “out there” beyond the threshold of each new “home” she lived in, I was nonetheless transported.
Thank you, Carolyn Slaughter.
It doesn’t really matter, though. There are plenty of reviews here to pique your interest.
All I will say is that for me, this book was engulfing.
There is no other place (save Scotland) that I’ve more wanted to travel to, than Africa. Carolyn Slaughter took me there, without a doubt. And even though I’m left with many more questions than answers (not to mention a deep-seated desire to slap her incompetent mothers’ pinched face), I am in no way entitled to ask them.
The horror that was her family life (behind closed doors) vs. the beauty of Africa “out there” beyond the threshold of each new “home” she lived in, I was nonetheless transported.
Thank you, Carolyn Slaughter.
May 15, 2017
Dark. Beautifully moving prose about the author's coming of age in Africa. I long to see the Africa that she painted for me. A huge talent, especially after, or because of, the trauma and abuse she received at the hands of her parents. I plan to read more of this author.
March 28, 2023
This memoir has a unique perspective. The author and her family were stationed first in India and then when India gained its freedom from their colonizers, the family was relocated to Africa.
My initial reaction was somewhat put off as the author opines that when the British were forced from
Africa by the African Liberation Movement it was as if the British were never there. The British and other colonizers left Africa bereft after systematically dismantling local culture and customs. However, Ms. Slaughter seems later in the book to be fully cognizant of the racism and cost to Africa of its colonization.
This book was hard to read but worthwhile. The author drops a bombshell at the end that i think would have been better integrated into the story earlier which would explain some of the psychology of the author better.
My initial reaction was somewhat put off as the author opines that when the British were forced from
Africa by the African Liberation Movement it was as if the British were never there. The British and other colonizers left Africa bereft after systematically dismantling local culture and customs. However, Ms. Slaughter seems later in the book to be fully cognizant of the racism and cost to Africa of its colonization.
This book was hard to read but worthwhile. The author drops a bombshell at the end that i think would have been better integrated into the story earlier which would explain some of the psychology of the author better.
January 15, 2023
Un libro che non parla (solo) di Africa, anzi, sarebbe riduttivo racchiuderlo semplicemente in questa macro-categoria. Racconta di un'infanzia violata, di una famiglia triste, arrabbiata e disfunzionale, e di come l'Africa al tempo del colonialismo e delle guerre di indipendenza, abbia fatto da salvagente a una bambina che, come afferma nelle prime pagine del libro, è stata stuprata dal padre, e arrivò a odiarlo talmente tanto per questo, al pari di quanto amava il continente nero.
Un libro che parla di paura e di riscatto, di un odio corrosivo e di un infinito amore per una terra che l'ha (letteralmente) salvata da quell'odio, nonché di incubi e di sogni.
Un libro che parla di paura e di riscatto, di un odio corrosivo e di un infinito amore per una terra che l'ha (letteralmente) salvata da quell'odio, nonché di incubi e di sogni.
January 12, 2021
I have got to known Angela, Carolyn's sister, over the last number of years and thus decided to re-read this book about their childhoods - moving from India, their place of birth, to Africa - Bechuanaland Protectorate/ Botswana (Maun, Francistown, Gabarone), where their father, who was the cause of a great deal of the sadness, sickness and unhealthy secrecy within the family, was a District Commissioner for the British Empire.
February 9, 2024
The Africa of my childhood
Carolyn Slaughter describes the. Africa I knew in the 60s in words that paint the smell, the dust, the spacious beauty; I cried for the longing of it.
And underneath, the abuse, the trauma, that thank god passed me by, but shaped her.
Powerful, beautiful writing.
Carolyn Slaughter describes the. Africa I knew in the 60s in words that paint the smell, the dust, the spacious beauty; I cried for the longing of it.
And underneath, the abuse, the trauma, that thank god passed me by, but shaped her.
Powerful, beautiful writing.
September 2, 2012
I think I might have enjoyed this more if it was what I'd expected. The blurbs on the back portray it as a beautiful memoirs of the author's childhood in Africa. Instead it's much darker, more about how her childhood was twisted by being raped by her father at 6 (Not really a spoiler since it's in the prologue), her mother not paying attention to her, and how she didn't fit in with the other kids. The African landscape and people are there, but only as a hazy background rather than at the front as I'd expected.
August 27, 2008
A touching, sad, beautifully written narrative. In the prologue she quickly refers to the sexual abuse she suffered and it doesn't become the focus on the novel, and explains her anger and self loathing without becoming a ploy for pity. The novel becomes about her childhood, all encompassing, and is an engrossing read.
September 24, 2010
One of my favorite memoirs! And it proves the use of well-written jacket summaries: I was performing inventory at the library where I worked and happened to come across this book. I read the summary and I just HAD to find out what the tragedy was that changed this woman's life. Very absorbing read.
March 6, 2011
I expected a beautiful memoir but what I got was ugly and raw. The author was raped by her father from the age of six. She doesn't give a graphic account of this but rather shows us how she struggled through a dismal, heartbreaking childhood. Another story I will not pass along.
October 2, 2013
I read this book with a compulsive sense of dread, loving every moment of her poetic style of writing but terrified of the hidden truth of the story. Beautifully written memoir of a painful childhood which stirs uneasy feelings within.
January 22, 2015
This book was riveting. I loved all the details of the author's African (and colonial) experience in Botswana and South Africa. Fascinating insight into the family and social history of the times as well.
November 11, 2007
This is a vivid and haunting memoir of an expat family in colonial Africa.
January 9, 2008
This is not so much an African childhood story as a story of child abuse and is very chilling. However, it is worth reading, I think.
March 27, 2009
Personal therapy for horrific family life
November 20, 2010
Memories of Africa and incest. Sad. -- Ok
February 4, 2011
Very disappointing....
August 19, 2011
amazingly frank biography of her life as a child in Africa (the daughter of a colonial officer)
giving an insight into the black/white conflicts and into her own traumatic life
giving an insight into the black/white conflicts and into her own traumatic life
June 25, 2012
there is nothing i love more than a memoir about a dysfunctional childhood set in an exotic location. i loved this book.
October 2, 2013
There were some powerful passages but overall the story didn't grab me.
Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews