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Kramer and Zondi Mystery #3
The Gooseberry Fool
Hugo Swart's death sends Lieutenant Kramer and his assistant Zondi on a search across South Africa for the killer
192 pages, Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 1974
21 people are currently reading
109 people want to read
About the author
James McClure
41 books21 followersJames Howe McClure was a British author and journalist best known for his Kramer and Zondi mysteries set in South Africa.
James McClure was born and raised in South Africa and educated in Pietermaritzburg, Natal at Scottsville School (1947–51), Cowan House (1952–54), and Maritzburg College (1955–58). He worked first as a commercial photographer with Tom Sharpe, who later wrote a series of celebrated comic novels, and then as a teacher of English and art at Cowan House in 1959-63, before becoming a crime reporter and photographer for the Natal Witness in his hometown of Pietermaritzburg.
His journalistic career saw him headhunted first by the Natal Mercury and then by the Natal Daily News. After the birth of his first son, he moved to Britain with his family in 1965, where he joined the Scottish Daily Mail as a sub-editor. From there, he moved to the Oxford Mail and then to The Oxford Times.
His first crime novel, The Steam Pig, won the CWA Gold Dagger in 1971. He resigned as deputy editor in 1974 to write full time. He added to his series of police procedurals based on his experiences in South Africa, featuring the detective partnership of Afrikaner Lieutenant Tromp Kramer and Bantu Detective Sergeant Mickey Zondi.
McClure also wrote a spy novel set in Southern Africa - Rogue Eagle - which won the 1976 CWA Silver Dagger, a number of short stories, and two large non-fiction works that won wide acclaim: Spike Island: Portrait of a Police Division (Liverpool) and Copworld: Inside an American Police Force (San Diego).
After publishing 14 books, he returned to the bottom rung of "The Oxford Times" in 1986, as his police books had made him aware of how much he had missed working with others - his intention being to write in his spare time. What proved his most popular Kramer and Zondi novel then followed, The Song Dog, but journalism soon became all consuming. He became editor in 1994 and three years later The Oxford Times won the Weekly Newspaper of the Year award, beating all comers from across the United Kingdom.
He was promoted to editor of the Oxford Mail in 2000, and spent the next three years on a variety of objectives to enhance the quality and revenue of the county's daily paper. That done, he decided it was time to again step down, and retired to return to writing. He was working on a novel set in Oxford and had just started his own blog when he came down with a respiratory illness and died on 17 June 2006. He lived in Wallingford, Oxfordshire.
James McClure was born and raised in South Africa and educated in Pietermaritzburg, Natal at Scottsville School (1947–51), Cowan House (1952–54), and Maritzburg College (1955–58). He worked first as a commercial photographer with Tom Sharpe, who later wrote a series of celebrated comic novels, and then as a teacher of English and art at Cowan House in 1959-63, before becoming a crime reporter and photographer for the Natal Witness in his hometown of Pietermaritzburg.
His journalistic career saw him headhunted first by the Natal Mercury and then by the Natal Daily News. After the birth of his first son, he moved to Britain with his family in 1965, where he joined the Scottish Daily Mail as a sub-editor. From there, he moved to the Oxford Mail and then to The Oxford Times.
His first crime novel, The Steam Pig, won the CWA Gold Dagger in 1971. He resigned as deputy editor in 1974 to write full time. He added to his series of police procedurals based on his experiences in South Africa, featuring the detective partnership of Afrikaner Lieutenant Tromp Kramer and Bantu Detective Sergeant Mickey Zondi.
McClure also wrote a spy novel set in Southern Africa - Rogue Eagle - which won the 1976 CWA Silver Dagger, a number of short stories, and two large non-fiction works that won wide acclaim: Spike Island: Portrait of a Police Division (Liverpool) and Copworld: Inside an American Police Force (San Diego).
After publishing 14 books, he returned to the bottom rung of "The Oxford Times" in 1986, as his police books had made him aware of how much he had missed working with others - his intention being to write in his spare time. What proved his most popular Kramer and Zondi novel then followed, The Song Dog, but journalism soon became all consuming. He became editor in 1994 and three years later The Oxford Times won the Weekly Newspaper of the Year award, beating all comers from across the United Kingdom.
He was promoted to editor of the Oxford Mail in 2000, and spent the next three years on a variety of objectives to enhance the quality and revenue of the county's daily paper. That done, he decided it was time to again step down, and retired to return to writing. He was working on a novel set in Oxford and had just started his own blog when he came down with a respiratory illness and died on 17 June 2006. He lived in Wallingford, Oxfordshire.
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Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews
October 12, 2011
This book is a swift kick in the gut. It is one of a series of novels involving two South African police detectives, one white, one black. It was written in 1974 and is as eye-opening and compelling as any description of what went on in Stalin’s Russia or Hitler’s Germany. While this is a well-done and interesting police procedural in its own right, the real hero—villain?—of this story is South Africa itself. The author writes—one must assume—in the voice of the main character, who refers to all black people—even his own partner—in the most derogatory terms imaginable. That’s during the narrative. The dialog is even worse.
We don’t remember when apartheid ended, but as recently as 1974, whole villages were being uprooted and their occupants dispersed to the South African equivalent of Siberia where witnesses were routinely slapped around by the police and blacks were held in the greatest of derision—even by other blacks. One particular incident has our black detective facing a mob of angry Zulu women—he thinks that, since he only has four bullets in his gun, he can at least kill three of them(!), before he puts the last shot into his own head before the mob can tear him to shreds.
Our white detective, who has his own back-story, never once regrets his attitude toward his own partner. One would expect the author to sugarcoat his ‘hero’, having him realize, after the black cop does so much to solve the mystery, that we’re all brothers under the skin, etc. etc.; but he doesn’t, for apparently in the real world of South Africa of 1974, even a black doctor is due the respect one would afford a malaria-bearing mosquito.
The solution of the mystery qua mystery is just a little teeny bit imperfect. It’s the kind of resolution where you say, “Okay, I’ll buy it,” but to read about, to experience what life was like in South Africa just thirty-five years ago is staggering and compelling. We can assure you we look forward to reading more by this author.
Reviewed by Elliott Capon for Suspense Magazine
We don’t remember when apartheid ended, but as recently as 1974, whole villages were being uprooted and their occupants dispersed to the South African equivalent of Siberia where witnesses were routinely slapped around by the police and blacks were held in the greatest of derision—even by other blacks. One particular incident has our black detective facing a mob of angry Zulu women—he thinks that, since he only has four bullets in his gun, he can at least kill three of them(!), before he puts the last shot into his own head before the mob can tear him to shreds.
Our white detective, who has his own back-story, never once regrets his attitude toward his own partner. One would expect the author to sugarcoat his ‘hero’, having him realize, after the black cop does so much to solve the mystery, that we’re all brothers under the skin, etc. etc.; but he doesn’t, for apparently in the real world of South Africa of 1974, even a black doctor is due the respect one would afford a malaria-bearing mosquito.
The solution of the mystery qua mystery is just a little teeny bit imperfect. It’s the kind of resolution where you say, “Okay, I’ll buy it,” but to read about, to experience what life was like in South Africa just thirty-five years ago is staggering and compelling. We can assure you we look forward to reading more by this author.
Reviewed by Elliott Capon for Suspense Magazine
February 22, 2016
We are told on Page 1 that a "gooseberry" is either a chaperone, or a person who stirs up trouble. I've never heard the second definition, but thinking back to some of the 19th century novels I've read where the phrase "playing gooseberry" was used, it makes sense. This particular gooseberry turns up stabbed in his own kitchen with a steak knife, at a time when he was alone in the house--or thought he was. Someone is out to get Kramer and Zondi--or are they? And who are they? Nothing is as it seems in this installment.
It's interesting that so far in McClure's books, the main corpse usually got what was coming to them in one way or another; they tend to turn out to be thoroughly bad hats, so you don't have to feel bad they were iced. This one is no exception; from the get-go we are told that the corpus dilecti was a real player, in more ways than one. How many ways, and how it is learned, is part of what makes this book such a rollercoaster ride.
I stayed up far too late last night to finish this book, which means that right now I can't really remember who actually dunnit, but with McClure's books it's not about the killer, or the condition of the body; it's about whydunnit and what it means. Sadly, I know I will devour the entire collection much too quickly, which will leave me very soon with no more of his good reads.
I also learned to my surprise that Orange Free State was not the name of the old South Africa, nor a synonym for it. I always thought the names could be used interchangeably, but here the characters speak of "going to OFS", so I had to look it up. Reading broadens the mind, with the help of Google.
It's interesting that so far in McClure's books, the main corpse usually got what was coming to them in one way or another; they tend to turn out to be thoroughly bad hats, so you don't have to feel bad they were iced. This one is no exception; from the get-go we are told that the corpus dilecti was a real player, in more ways than one. How many ways, and how it is learned, is part of what makes this book such a rollercoaster ride.
I stayed up far too late last night to finish this book, which means that right now I can't really remember who actually dunnit, but with McClure's books it's not about the killer, or the condition of the body; it's about whydunnit and what it means. Sadly, I know I will devour the entire collection much too quickly, which will leave me very soon with no more of his good reads.
I also learned to my surprise that Orange Free State was not the name of the old South Africa, nor a synonym for it. I always thought the names could be used interchangeably, but here the characters speak of "going to OFS", so I had to look it up. Reading broadens the mind, with the help of Google.
July 13, 2023
Trojrecenze na tři příběhy vydané v knize 3x Kramer a Zondi
Další vykopávka. Kriminální série inspirovaná 87. revírem, u které je asi nejzajímavější prostředí a doba. Děj se totiž odehrává v sedmdesátých letech v Africe. Autor, James McClure tam nějakou dobu žil, takže tam zasadil svou detektivní sérii, která hodně těží z místní atmosféry a situace.
Je to o to zajímavější, když si to spojíme se studeným sedmdesátkovým stylem, který situace jen popisuje, aniž by je vysvětloval, nebo k nim dodával, co si o tom máte myslet, co je správné a co ne. Rasismus je tu prostě norma a i když je to postavené na černobílé dvojici vyšetřovatelů, ani náhodou si nejsou ti dva rovní. Ano, Kramer svého černého kolegu respektuje a občas se ho u šéfů zastane, ale pokaždé je jasné, kdo je tu šéf a kdo bude dělat horší práci a stěhovat nábytek, když bude třeba. Tenhle suchý způsob popisování situace na mě funguje líp – když mi kniha umožní udělat si názor sám. Ono to i ve výsledku líp funguje. Názory, u kterých máte pocit, že jste k nimi přišli sami (i když vás k nimi kniha nenápadně navedla), jsou pevnější než ty, které vyfasujete hned u vchodu.
Hrdinové nejsou extra sympaťáci a neváhají podezřelým vyhrožovat a manipulovat s nimi. Ostatně, sám Kramer na otázku, co je to psychologie, odpovídá, že je to máchnout nohou, abyste kopli podezřelého do koulí – a zastavit se milimetr od nich. (Což zase není tak daleko od pravdy.) Nehledě na to, že se tam ani vůbec neřeší nějaké nevěry, násilí, vyhrožování podezřelým, krádeže, úplatky…
K sedmdesátým létům patří i úsečné a konfliktní dialogy, které spíš nahazují témata, než že by něco detailně vysvětlovaly. Jak se jen máloco řeší více než půlvětou, tak čtení komplikuje ne vždycky dobrý překlad. Každý román překládal někdo jiný, takže u prvního příběhu člověk většinou nechápe, o čem lidi vůbec mluví, u posledního nechápe, proč lidi takhle mluví… a jen prostřední, který dělal Pavel Medek, po stránce dialogů funguje. Byť i tady by stálo za přečtení v nějakém modernějším překladu.
Po té detektivní stránce je asi nejzajímavější to Goosebery Fool/Až se ucho utrhne, kde přichází i zajímavý zvrat a je vám z toho jasné, že liberálové neměli v JAR zrovna lehký život. Ostatní je už spíš klasika, která je na spoustě míst spíše podehraná, takže často jsou některé zásadní věci řečené jen tak mimochodem, nebo zpětně odvyprávěné. To prostředí a detaily jsou na sérii vážně nejzajímavější. Třeba když si v některých chatrčích dělají ženy klacíkem rýhy do hlíny, aby to připomínalo dřevěnou podlahu, co mají bílí a krajky vystřihují z novin. Nebo že je pro místní muže normální mít jednu městskou a jednu vesnickou manželku. A samozřejmě, pracuje se s tím, že někam má Zondi přístup zakázaný… a někde by zase nechápali, na co se jich ptá Kramer.
Čili – pokud by po tom někdo chtěl sáhnout, tak spíš kvůli tomu prostředí a detailům, než kvůli příběhu.
Další vykopávka. Kriminální série inspirovaná 87. revírem, u které je asi nejzajímavější prostředí a doba. Děj se totiž odehrává v sedmdesátých letech v Africe. Autor, James McClure tam nějakou dobu žil, takže tam zasadil svou detektivní sérii, která hodně těží z místní atmosféry a situace.
Je to o to zajímavější, když si to spojíme se studeným sedmdesátkovým stylem, který situace jen popisuje, aniž by je vysvětloval, nebo k nim dodával, co si o tom máte myslet, co je správné a co ne. Rasismus je tu prostě norma a i když je to postavené na černobílé dvojici vyšetřovatelů, ani náhodou si nejsou ti dva rovní. Ano, Kramer svého černého kolegu respektuje a občas se ho u šéfů zastane, ale pokaždé je jasné, kdo je tu šéf a kdo bude dělat horší práci a stěhovat nábytek, když bude třeba. Tenhle suchý způsob popisování situace na mě funguje líp – když mi kniha umožní udělat si názor sám. Ono to i ve výsledku líp funguje. Názory, u kterých máte pocit, že jste k nimi přišli sami (i když vás k nimi kniha nenápadně navedla), jsou pevnější než ty, které vyfasujete hned u vchodu.
Hrdinové nejsou extra sympaťáci a neváhají podezřelým vyhrožovat a manipulovat s nimi. Ostatně, sám Kramer na otázku, co je to psychologie, odpovídá, že je to máchnout nohou, abyste kopli podezřelého do koulí – a zastavit se milimetr od nich. (Což zase není tak daleko od pravdy.) Nehledě na to, že se tam ani vůbec neřeší nějaké nevěry, násilí, vyhrožování podezřelým, krádeže, úplatky…
K sedmdesátým létům patří i úsečné a konfliktní dialogy, které spíš nahazují témata, než že by něco detailně vysvětlovaly. Jak se jen máloco řeší více než půlvětou, tak čtení komplikuje ne vždycky dobrý překlad. Každý román překládal někdo jiný, takže u prvního příběhu člověk většinou nechápe, o čem lidi vůbec mluví, u posledního nechápe, proč lidi takhle mluví… a jen prostřední, který dělal Pavel Medek, po stránce dialogů funguje. Byť i tady by stálo za přečtení v nějakém modernějším překladu.
Po té detektivní stránce je asi nejzajímavější to Goosebery Fool/Až se ucho utrhne, kde přichází i zajímavý zvrat a je vám z toho jasné, že liberálové neměli v JAR zrovna lehký život. Ostatní je už spíš klasika, která je na spoustě míst spíše podehraná, takže často jsou některé zásadní věci řečené jen tak mimochodem, nebo zpětně odvyprávěné. To prostředí a detaily jsou na sérii vážně nejzajímavější. Třeba když si v některých chatrčích dělají ženy klacíkem rýhy do hlíny, aby to připomínalo dřevěnou podlahu, co mají bílí a krajky vystřihují z novin. Nebo že je pro místní muže normální mít jednu městskou a jednu vesnickou manželku. A samozřejmě, pracuje se s tím, že někam má Zondi přístup zakázaný… a někde by zase nechápali, na co se jich ptá Kramer.
Čili – pokud by po tom někdo chtěl sáhnout, tak spíš kvůli tomu prostředí a detailům, než kvůli příběhu.
July 16, 2017
In The Song Dog--the last Zondi/Kramer mystery written, but the one that tells of their first meeting--their future in 1980s South Africa is foreshadowed by a fortune-teller. It is difficult to read, particularly with respect to Zondi, but, re-reading The Gooseberry Fool years after first reading The Song Dog, I get it.
In The Gooseberry Fool, Zondi is given independence to pursue a black servant who is the prime suspect in a murder. His actions in tracking down the suspect are understandable, but the consequences are horrific. I can see how Zondi, as a Zulu constable, would be perceived as a collaborator of the white supremacist regime.
The Gooseberry Fool also effectively depicts the stifling police-state aspects of 1970s South Africa. The intelligence services investigate "liberals" because they are seeking to root out communists and anyone who doesn't embrace the white supremacist ideology.
Zondi is instrumental in solving the mystery, but is not given the credit (unsurprising, as a key narrative by the white elite is that Zulus are lazy and childlike--Zondi's initiative, intelligence, and independence gives the lie to that racist belief). The ending is clever, but a bit pat for my taste. But McClure's skill in depicting the ugliness of South Africa's system, which he does by telling the story from the point of view of those who benefit from it, is evident and makes up for the rather too-neat ending.
In The Gooseberry Fool, Zondi is given independence to pursue a black servant who is the prime suspect in a murder. His actions in tracking down the suspect are understandable, but the consequences are horrific. I can see how Zondi, as a Zulu constable, would be perceived as a collaborator of the white supremacist regime.
The Gooseberry Fool also effectively depicts the stifling police-state aspects of 1970s South Africa. The intelligence services investigate "liberals" because they are seeking to root out communists and anyone who doesn't embrace the white supremacist ideology.
Zondi is instrumental in solving the mystery, but is not given the credit (unsurprising, as a key narrative by the white elite is that Zulus are lazy and childlike--Zondi's initiative, intelligence, and independence gives the lie to that racist belief). The ending is clever, but a bit pat for my taste. But McClure's skill in depicting the ugliness of South Africa's system, which he does by telling the story from the point of view of those who benefit from it, is evident and makes up for the rather too-neat ending.
February 20, 2024
This was an outstanding murder/mystery. This book takes place in South Africa in 1974, during the apartheid era. Our protagonist's are a Black Bantu (Zulu) by the name of Sgt. Zondi and his white boss Lt. Kramer. For the era they have an unusual partnership in that Kramer treats Zondi "almost" as an equal. In this installment in the series they are called to a violent murder scene and the suspect is believed to be the black "house boy" who works for the victim. At this point in the story the suspect has fled to an outlying black settlement and as a result that has caused him to be fingered as the prime suspect (incorrect as it turns out). Meanwhile Kramer has to deal with a pencil pushing cock-sucker Colonel whom he despises. The Colonel demands he take a fatal accident investigation which is a slap in the face, as he is a homicide Lt. Interestingly it turns out the two cases are related. With many twists and turns Kramer and Zondi put together that there is a dirty police cover up taking place and the dead victim is a black mailing turd of the first order. While complex the author (McClure) weaves an excellent tale and there are a couple surprises in store for the reader. I highly recommend this series and this book. It is quite excellent.
May 15, 2020
Love this series. Gives such an honest picture of life during apartheid. The open racism and how everyone took it. Series is set with white man and his Bantu partner. Great relationship. Its just this one had weak story and Kramer and Zondi aren’t together enough. Still worth reading because you need to read them all
April 27, 2025
Written and set in 1976 South Africa, so there is hard language and cruel evidence of apartheid. Detective Inspector Kramer is a flawed person. But the story is intriguing. Also, the opening sentence is catching: "Hugo Swart entered purgatory just after nine o'clock on the hottest night of the year."
October 25, 2021
Wow, these are painful to read, but also fascinating. Grimy pulp detective fiction set in South Africa. You can qualify "in the '70s," or "during apartheid," but I venture things haven't changed much.
August 14, 2019
A mildly interesting tale
I wanted to like this; I've read similar stories that were better. I won't pursue other novels by this author.
I wanted to like this; I've read similar stories that were better. I won't pursue other novels by this author.
May 8, 2020
Good Story
Sometimes you look for a complicated answer to a question that is so obvious it can't be true. But it is true.
Sometimes you look for a complicated answer to a question that is so obvious it can't be true. But it is true.
January 21, 2023
This book was a rough read with its casual racism and brutality. But it was worthwhile. And in the end its up to Bantu detective Zondi to figure it all out.
December 7, 2025
A respected young man is found dead in his home and Kramer and Zondi investigate. This had a good plot and, as always, the South African setting was well done.
May 30, 2013
Publicado en http://lecturaylocura.com/el-cazador-...
elcazadorsordoYa comenté en este post la irregularidad que ha sufrido en su publicación la obra del sudafricano James McClure a propósito de la que, en aquel momento, era su última obra. Si estoy aquí de nuevo es porque Reino de Cordelia se ha liado la manta a la cabeza y está dando continuidad a este estupendo escritor. A la paradójica “La canción del perro” le sucede “El cazador sordo” que es la tercera de la serie del teniente Tromp Kramer y su compañero zulú Mickey Zondi. Ya solo quedan tres inéditas… y alguna por reeditar, veremos si es posible que ocurra algún día.
Publicada en 1974, en esta aventura vivimos la separación, forzada por los superiores, de Kramer y Zondi; cada uno tiene que lidiar con un caso por su cuenta con la dificultad que a ambos les entraña, además de la conciencia de estar siendo manipulados. Como en otros libros de la saga tres ingredientes se repiten con asiduidad, fórmulas ineludibles del éxito y la calidad de la obra de McClure:
-Lo primero es el humor, el sudafricano siempre tiene algún momento, hasta el más insospechado, para intentar sacarnos una sonrisa y, desde luego, lo consigue; solo tenemos que ver los pensamientos de Kramer con respecto a uno de sus superiores:
“-¿Es usted, teniente?
-El mismo, compañero.
-Me lo pareció. Lo reconocí de inmediato. Le dije a mi agente que era usted quien había llegado y sí que lo era.
Ya estaba aquel imbécil diciendo de todo acerca de nada. A Van der Poel le gustaba el sonido de su empalagosa voz. Estaba más que encantado de conocerse. Había que ser gilipollas para tenerse por alguien tan especial.”
-El segundo tiene que ver con el retrato de una sociedad, post-apartheid, profundamente racista, segregada, controlada por unos pocos blancos que maltratan sin pudor al resto de la población; a pesar de lo anecdótico, siempre vivimos en todos sus libros ese momento en el que, al empezar un caso, uno de los negros es culpado del crimen:
“Lo único que tenía sentido era imaginar que un pequeño incidente acabase siendo la gota que colma el vaso. Que todo negro alberga en su interior un gran sentimiento de ultraje, por lo que bastaba añadir una pizca más y todo saltaba por los aires. Cuál podía ser la causa de aquel sentimiento era algo que nunca se había molestado en…”
O simplemente, como quien no quiere la cosa, vivimos un momento de “limpieza étnica” de los muchos que se repetían por la época, esa sociedad de los años 70, en boca de Zondi:
“Qué idiota: se trataba de un desahucio. El desahucio de un “punto negro”, uno de tantos, algo que pasaba todos los días, y él había permitido que su imaginación distorsionara su capacidad de percepción. Claro que se oían golpes sordos cuando se cargaban los muebles en un camión; naturalmente que se producían ruidos al arrancar las valiosas láminas de hojalata de los tejados; resultaba evidente que no se trataba del momento más adecuado para hablar; ni para que se rieran los niños. En cuanto al cordón policial, no era más que el procedimiento de rutina para evitar estupideces.”
A pesar de haber estos momentos, duros, denigrantes en sí mismos y que sirven para concienciar socialmente, no resulta cargante en este aspecto, los destila en pequeñas gotas para no entorpecer en demasía el camino de la trama y la narración.
-Por fin, el último de estos elementos es, desde luego, el manejo de la trama; es brillante lo bien que es capaz de unir cada uno de los recovecos que va presentando a cada página para llevarnos a un final tan sorprendentemente bien orquestado que nos deja simple y llanamente boquiabiertos; en este libro asistimos a uno de estos momentos, mágicos de por sí, que hay que descubrir cada uno como lector para darse cuenta de lo genial que es este escritor. De ahí mi reticencia a desvelar ningún detalle de la misma.
Si a lo anteriormente unimos que, además, están bien escritas y los personajes, más allá del genial dúo protagonista, están vivos a cada punto, coma o vocal que leemos; no exagero si digo que ya estamos ante uno de los libros del año.
Los textos provienen de la traducción de Susana Carral para la edición comentada de la editorial Reino de Cordelia.
elcazadorsordoYa comenté en este post la irregularidad que ha sufrido en su publicación la obra del sudafricano James McClure a propósito de la que, en aquel momento, era su última obra. Si estoy aquí de nuevo es porque Reino de Cordelia se ha liado la manta a la cabeza y está dando continuidad a este estupendo escritor. A la paradójica “La canción del perro” le sucede “El cazador sordo” que es la tercera de la serie del teniente Tromp Kramer y su compañero zulú Mickey Zondi. Ya solo quedan tres inéditas… y alguna por reeditar, veremos si es posible que ocurra algún día.
Publicada en 1974, en esta aventura vivimos la separación, forzada por los superiores, de Kramer y Zondi; cada uno tiene que lidiar con un caso por su cuenta con la dificultad que a ambos les entraña, además de la conciencia de estar siendo manipulados. Como en otros libros de la saga tres ingredientes se repiten con asiduidad, fórmulas ineludibles del éxito y la calidad de la obra de McClure:
-Lo primero es el humor, el sudafricano siempre tiene algún momento, hasta el más insospechado, para intentar sacarnos una sonrisa y, desde luego, lo consigue; solo tenemos que ver los pensamientos de Kramer con respecto a uno de sus superiores:
“-¿Es usted, teniente?
-El mismo, compañero.
-Me lo pareció. Lo reconocí de inmediato. Le dije a mi agente que era usted quien había llegado y sí que lo era.
Ya estaba aquel imbécil diciendo de todo acerca de nada. A Van der Poel le gustaba el sonido de su empalagosa voz. Estaba más que encantado de conocerse. Había que ser gilipollas para tenerse por alguien tan especial.”
-El segundo tiene que ver con el retrato de una sociedad, post-apartheid, profundamente racista, segregada, controlada por unos pocos blancos que maltratan sin pudor al resto de la población; a pesar de lo anecdótico, siempre vivimos en todos sus libros ese momento en el que, al empezar un caso, uno de los negros es culpado del crimen:
“Lo único que tenía sentido era imaginar que un pequeño incidente acabase siendo la gota que colma el vaso. Que todo negro alberga en su interior un gran sentimiento de ultraje, por lo que bastaba añadir una pizca más y todo saltaba por los aires. Cuál podía ser la causa de aquel sentimiento era algo que nunca se había molestado en…”
O simplemente, como quien no quiere la cosa, vivimos un momento de “limpieza étnica” de los muchos que se repetían por la época, esa sociedad de los años 70, en boca de Zondi:
“Qué idiota: se trataba de un desahucio. El desahucio de un “punto negro”, uno de tantos, algo que pasaba todos los días, y él había permitido que su imaginación distorsionara su capacidad de percepción. Claro que se oían golpes sordos cuando se cargaban los muebles en un camión; naturalmente que se producían ruidos al arrancar las valiosas láminas de hojalata de los tejados; resultaba evidente que no se trataba del momento más adecuado para hablar; ni para que se rieran los niños. En cuanto al cordón policial, no era más que el procedimiento de rutina para evitar estupideces.”
A pesar de haber estos momentos, duros, denigrantes en sí mismos y que sirven para concienciar socialmente, no resulta cargante en este aspecto, los destila en pequeñas gotas para no entorpecer en demasía el camino de la trama y la narración.
-Por fin, el último de estos elementos es, desde luego, el manejo de la trama; es brillante lo bien que es capaz de unir cada uno de los recovecos que va presentando a cada página para llevarnos a un final tan sorprendentemente bien orquestado que nos deja simple y llanamente boquiabiertos; en este libro asistimos a uno de estos momentos, mágicos de por sí, que hay que descubrir cada uno como lector para darse cuenta de lo genial que es este escritor. De ahí mi reticencia a desvelar ningún detalle de la misma.
Si a lo anteriormente unimos que, además, están bien escritas y los personajes, más allá del genial dúo protagonista, están vivos a cada punto, coma o vocal que leemos; no exagero si digo que ya estamos ante uno de los libros del año.
Los textos provienen de la traducción de Susana Carral para la edición comentada de la editorial Reino de Cordelia.
October 6, 2011
This book is a swift kick in the gut. It is one of a series of novels involving two South African police detectives, one white, one black. It was written in 1974 and is as eye-opening and compelling as any description of what went on in Stalin’s Russia or Hitler’s Germany. While this is a well-done and interesting police procedural in its own right, the real hero—villain?—of this story is South Africa itself. The author writes—one must assume—in the voice of the main character, who refers to all black people—even his own partner—in the most derogatory terms imaginable. That’s during the narrative. The dialog is even worse.
We don’t remember when apartheid ended, but as recently as 1974, whole villages were being uprooted and their occupants dispersed to the South African equivalent of Siberia where witnesses were routinely slapped around by the police and blacks were held in the greatest of derision—even by other blacks. One particular incident has our black detective facing a mob of angry Zulu women—he thinks that, since he only has four bullets in his gun, he can at least kill three of them(!), before he puts the last shot into his own head before the mob can tear him to shreds.
Our white detective, who has his own back-story, never once regrets his attitude toward his own partner. One would expect the author to sugarcoat his ‘hero,’ having him realize, after the black cop does so much to solve the mystery, that we’re all brothers under the skin, etc. etc.; but he doesn’t, for apparently in the real world of South Africa of 1974, even a black doctor is due the respect one would afford a malaria-bearing mosquito.
The solution of the mystery qua mystery is just a little teeny bit imperfect. It’s the kind of resolution where you say, “Okay, I’ll buy it,” but to read about, to experience what life was like in South Africa just thirty-five years ago is staggering and compelling. We can assure you we look forward to reading more by this author.
Reviewed by Elliott Capon for Suspense Magazine
We don’t remember when apartheid ended, but as recently as 1974, whole villages were being uprooted and their occupants dispersed to the South African equivalent of Siberia where witnesses were routinely slapped around by the police and blacks were held in the greatest of derision—even by other blacks. One particular incident has our black detective facing a mob of angry Zulu women—he thinks that, since he only has four bullets in his gun, he can at least kill three of them(!), before he puts the last shot into his own head before the mob can tear him to shreds.
Our white detective, who has his own back-story, never once regrets his attitude toward his own partner. One would expect the author to sugarcoat his ‘hero,’ having him realize, after the black cop does so much to solve the mystery, that we’re all brothers under the skin, etc. etc.; but he doesn’t, for apparently in the real world of South Africa of 1974, even a black doctor is due the respect one would afford a malaria-bearing mosquito.
The solution of the mystery qua mystery is just a little teeny bit imperfect. It’s the kind of resolution where you say, “Okay, I’ll buy it,” but to read about, to experience what life was like in South Africa just thirty-five years ago is staggering and compelling. We can assure you we look forward to reading more by this author.
Reviewed by Elliott Capon for Suspense Magazine
May 22, 2013
A wonderful murder mystery. This was the second time I've read this and I enjoyed it just as much this time around. We get more insight into Kramer's personal life, but we also get quite a bit of Zondi working on his own, particularly in the first half. There are some little diversions and false starts in the investigation, and lots of misdirection. It rather reminds me of a real investigation. Once again, there is a very stark contrast between the whites and the blacks. But, even the whites live in what Americans at the time would consider a lower class lifestyle with shared bathrooms and party line telephones. The technology of the day seems so quaint to read about now.
The Faber & Faber paperback was formatted well with no obvious spelling errors or grammatical mistakes. The typeface was somewhat small, but not as small as for my copy of The Steam Pig, nor were the margins as oversized.
The Faber & Faber paperback was formatted well with no obvious spelling errors or grammatical mistakes. The typeface was somewhat small, but not as small as for my copy of The Steam Pig, nor were the margins as oversized.
August 30, 2013
Set in 1970s South Africa, the relationship between Lietenant Kramer and his Bantu Sgt. Zondi is growing in respect, despite the ever present condescension and racism that surrounds it. Kramer is no friend of blacks generally, but relies on Zondi in the countryside while he pursues a murderer and a drunk driving death amid the holidays and a distinct lack of departmental support. A solid mystery with a setting that makes a moment in history come alive.
March 13, 2016
This book has excellent reviews. It is part of a series of mysteries featuring two South African policemen. Written in the early 70s, it shows a picture of life in South Africa during apartheid. However, the main character is your typical stoic, touch-guy cop, and I found nothing brilliant in the writing or the plot.
June 2, 2015
South Africa in the 70s, police procedural. Just right for the moment I found it. Protagonist is a likeable bastard and not too likeable. Opening scene has him hiding in the restroom, naked and trying to cool off during the December heatwave.
February 22, 2012
The dialect was a little bit difficult to follow but the story line was pretty good
October 28, 2012
Another great installment in the series.
April 7, 2016
Perhaps the best yet. I appreciate that McClure uses the apartheid era as incidental, a backdrop, with only implied criticism, and formulates very skillful and entertaining mysteries.
July 30, 2016
Started out interestingly enough, somewhat drawn out in the middle, but ends with some excitement even if a little predictable
Want to read
November 15, 200711/15/07 bought at UBS
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