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This Life
This beautifully written novel, by one of South Africa's most celebrated writers, has an almost hypnotic power that draws the reader into one woman's life. As a post-apartheid novel, This Life considers both the past and future of the Afrikaner people through four generations of one family. In an elegiac narrator's tone, there is also a sense of compulsion in the narrator's attempts to understand the past and achieve reconciliation in the present. This Life is a powerful story partly of suffering and partly of reflection.
250 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1993
8 people are currently reading
230 people want to read
About the author
Karel Schoeman
104 books25 followersSchoeman is one of a handful of Afrikaans authors who has achieved real greatness in his own lifetime. His prizes include the Hertzog prize for prose three times (1970, 1986, 1995), the CNA prize (1972), the Helgaard Steyn prize (1988), the W.A. Hofmeyr prize and the Old Mutual prize for literature/fiction (1984, 1991). His work investigates the existence of the Afrikaner in Africa, especially those that came from Europe.
After completing his schooling in Paarl, he went on to study a B.A. at the University of the Free State before going to a Catholic Seminary in Pretoria. In 1961 he joined the Franciscan Order in Ireland as a noviciate for priesthood, but then returned to Bloemfontein to continue studying Librarianship. Before returning to South Africa for good in 1983, he was a librarian in Amsterdam as well as a nurse in Glasgow. Back in South Africa he continued writing and working as a librarian in Cape Town. He currently lives in Trompsburg.
After completing his schooling in Paarl, he went on to study a B.A. at the University of the Free State before going to a Catholic Seminary in Pretoria. In 1961 he joined the Franciscan Order in Ireland as a noviciate for priesthood, but then returned to Bloemfontein to continue studying Librarianship. Before returning to South Africa for good in 1983, he was a librarian in Amsterdam as well as a nurse in Glasgow. Back in South Africa he continued writing and working as a librarian in Cape Town. He currently lives in Trompsburg.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 32 reviews
May 22, 2015
Review at Words without Borders
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January 29, 2018
And then? What then? I am no longer certain what I have come to look for here. The silver glow of the night becomes shrouded, the greyish landscape grows dim before my eyes, and I no longer know where I am. [...] Where are you in this vast darkness, and can you hear me? Speak to me if you are near, here where I lie alone in the night, unable to sleep, trapped with my bewildered thoughts and memories at the end of my life; speak to me, you who know more than I do, and explain to me what I cannot understand.
*
[...] and there is no sign that this night will end; only the thoughts and memories remain, and avoiding them is no longer possible.
*
Never again. Only in my memories, sleepless in the dark, shall I still tread the old paths;
*
The past is another country: where is the road leading there? You can but follow the track blindly where it stretches before your feet, unable to choose the direction in which you want to go.
*
Words are no longer of any use now, and the past is beyond redemption;
*
[...] and there is no sign that this night will end; only the thoughts and memories remain, and avoiding them is no longer possible.
*
Never again. Only in my memories, sleepless in the dark, shall I still tread the old paths;
*
The past is another country: where is the road leading there? You can but follow the track blindly where it stretches before your feet, unable to choose the direction in which you want to go.
*
Words are no longer of any use now, and the past is beyond redemption;
May 13, 2015
The narrator of this story is an old woman who is lying on her death bed and trying to remember the story of her life which involves growing up in a remote part of South Africa on a farm. Her life is sad, lonely and pathetic. As a child she is neglected and forgotten by just about everyone in her family, including her mother. She never marries and spends her entire life alone and living with family members who oftentimes forget that she even exists.
The narrative is very slow-moving but descriptive. This old woman describes her parents, her siblings and the servants who all lived together in a crowded house on their farm. Her mother had a volatile temper and never showed any true affection towards her. Her father displayed more love for her but his life on the farm kept him very busy. Her brothers, Pieter and Jakob, have a sibling rivalry that becomes deadly when they both fall in love with the same woman.
Many of the details in the book are vague because the old woman is trying to piece together her memories as her life is slipping away. As a marginalized member of the family she is never told even the most basic details of their life so she can only put together bits and pieces of her past. As further evidence of her isolated existence, the narrator’s name is only said a few times in the book and her name seems more like a nickname and not her given name. No one takes notice of her, no one addresses her, no one acknowledges her place in the family.
Since she never marries, the narrator is dependent on her family for her entire life, being passed down from one generation to the next like some sort of family relic or heirloom. When her parents die she lives with her nephew and his wife who seem to barely tolerate her presence in their home. When she is left at home for long stretches of time she finally feels like she has found some independence and no longer has to follow everyone else’s commands. Every other female character in the book, from her mother to her sister-in-law, to her wife’s cousin are dependent on men and cater to the whims of their husbands. But she is able to avoid marriage and attachment to a man for her entire life. We are left with a sense of ambiguity as to whether or not her life is any better or worse than the other married women in the novel.
THIS LIFE is a sad tale about a woman who lives in the shadows and never finds her own identity. One should not expect high drama with this novel; it is a disjointed reflection of a long life with much suffering and little joy.
The narrative is very slow-moving but descriptive. This old woman describes her parents, her siblings and the servants who all lived together in a crowded house on their farm. Her mother had a volatile temper and never showed any true affection towards her. Her father displayed more love for her but his life on the farm kept him very busy. Her brothers, Pieter and Jakob, have a sibling rivalry that becomes deadly when they both fall in love with the same woman.
Many of the details in the book are vague because the old woman is trying to piece together her memories as her life is slipping away. As a marginalized member of the family she is never told even the most basic details of their life so she can only put together bits and pieces of her past. As further evidence of her isolated existence, the narrator’s name is only said a few times in the book and her name seems more like a nickname and not her given name. No one takes notice of her, no one addresses her, no one acknowledges her place in the family.
Since she never marries, the narrator is dependent on her family for her entire life, being passed down from one generation to the next like some sort of family relic or heirloom. When her parents die she lives with her nephew and his wife who seem to barely tolerate her presence in their home. When she is left at home for long stretches of time she finally feels like she has found some independence and no longer has to follow everyone else’s commands. Every other female character in the book, from her mother to her sister-in-law, to her wife’s cousin are dependent on men and cater to the whims of their husbands. But she is able to avoid marriage and attachment to a man for her entire life. We are left with a sense of ambiguity as to whether or not her life is any better or worse than the other married women in the novel.
THIS LIFE is a sad tale about a woman who lives in the shadows and never finds her own identity. One should not expect high drama with this novel; it is a disjointed reflection of a long life with much suffering and little joy.
August 8, 2020
Ik kom van de supermarkt, schuifelend door de bijna ondraaglijke hitte van augustus 2020, en besluit de herkomst van de bio-appelsienen die ik er heb gekocht toch eens na te gaan: Zuid-Afrika. Ik vermaan mijzelf luidop (gelukkig niemand in de buurt), want dit is er toch echt wel wat over, Jan, zo'n ecologisch onverantwoorde afstand tussen daar en hier voor een hanvol oranje vruchten, waarvan één dan nog halfvergeven van de schimmel...Maar ik klaar in een fractie weer op bij de gedachte aan het knappe boek uit diezelfde contreien dat ik even voordien heb dichtgeklapt, en lach luidop (nog steeds geen omstaanders) om dit heilzame toeval. Genieten van literatuur kan dus ook tijdens het wegtasten van je boodschappen. Probeer het eens, en laat het mij weten!
May 23, 2015
The prose in Karel Schoeman’s ‘This Life’ is beautiful, and translator Else Silke has done a great job with it. Lyrical and languorous, it wends its way through this slow-paced novel. The narrator, an old woman on her death bed, lies awake in the black of the night and searches for truth and meaning in her memories. In this way the book comes to be both a reflection on the fickleness of memory and a history of the Afrikaans people, chronicling a way of life that was rapidly changing even at the time the novel is set, in the second half of the 19th century.
At first, the book sucked me in. I was getting ready to write a rave review. But by about half way through the appeal of the slow pacing and long involved sentences had worn off. The story which Sussie tells should by rights have been a harsh one, filled with poverty, racism and family secrets hushed and ignored, so that the introverted girl watching has to piece things together on her own. Instead, I found that the languid pacing and the poetry of the sentences blunted the impact of the events that took place. When hardship was described, it was with a veneer of beauty over the top. There was no sense of suffering. When tragedy struck, I was too little invested in the characters to find it emotionally true.
Some of this is no doubt deliberate. Sussie feels little affection for her family and so it is hard for the reader to find any. But when the narrator is continually self-deprecating and has so little personality of her own, it creates a barrier between reader and novel, at least for me.
The descriptions of the South African veld are beautiful, and there is no doubt that the story is exceptionally well researched and paints a picture of a world and a lifestyle which is now lost and often little remembered in South African history. The Afrikaans farmers lived a tough and fascinating existence in what was for them frontier country, reminiscent of the American West. But this novel is also devoid of a political context.
Race is almost completely absent from the story, no doubt because it (probably entirely accurately) would have been a self-evident thing to a woman growing up in that time. Still, it jarred with me that the book would paint such a nostalgic picture of Afrikaner history and scarcely acknowledge that it was made possible by slavery and ingrained racism which would, just forty years after the novel ended, be formalized in apartheid.
By the end of the novel I was in two minds; unmoved by the fate of the characters and yet longing for a trip home, to stand in the veld under a magnificent South African sky. ‘This Life’ is certainly worth reading for its evocation of a time and a place in the evolution of a fascinating, troubled country.
At first, the book sucked me in. I was getting ready to write a rave review. But by about half way through the appeal of the slow pacing and long involved sentences had worn off. The story which Sussie tells should by rights have been a harsh one, filled with poverty, racism and family secrets hushed and ignored, so that the introverted girl watching has to piece things together on her own. Instead, I found that the languid pacing and the poetry of the sentences blunted the impact of the events that took place. When hardship was described, it was with a veneer of beauty over the top. There was no sense of suffering. When tragedy struck, I was too little invested in the characters to find it emotionally true.
Some of this is no doubt deliberate. Sussie feels little affection for her family and so it is hard for the reader to find any. But when the narrator is continually self-deprecating and has so little personality of her own, it creates a barrier between reader and novel, at least for me.
The descriptions of the South African veld are beautiful, and there is no doubt that the story is exceptionally well researched and paints a picture of a world and a lifestyle which is now lost and often little remembered in South African history. The Afrikaans farmers lived a tough and fascinating existence in what was for them frontier country, reminiscent of the American West. But this novel is also devoid of a political context.
Race is almost completely absent from the story, no doubt because it (probably entirely accurately) would have been a self-evident thing to a woman growing up in that time. Still, it jarred with me that the book would paint such a nostalgic picture of Afrikaner history and scarcely acknowledge that it was made possible by slavery and ingrained racism which would, just forty years after the novel ended, be formalized in apartheid.
By the end of the novel I was in two minds; unmoved by the fate of the characters and yet longing for a trip home, to stand in the veld under a magnificent South African sky. ‘This Life’ is certainly worth reading for its evocation of a time and a place in the evolution of a fascinating, troubled country.
January 24, 2017
The writing flows and is sort of somber. But I can sort of imagine my paternal grandmother speaking these words and the sound would not be as depressing as the story. As Jeff Morse passed along I'm an email, "Best book ever about the harsh emotional life if the Dutch mirrored by the landscape of SA"
April 24, 2020
Soos die lees van 'n hersenskim.
February 2, 2015
This Life is an excellent, slow-moving narrative about the quiet life of a silent woman and the end of an Afrikaner family. I took this one slowly, breaking midway through to read the new David Graeber, and while I don't typically do that (usually when I put a book down to pick up another it stays down), I returned determined to finish, if only because it's so short. And wow damn I'm really glad I did.
There is so much I love about this novel. Its rhythm is near tectonic. It's slow as hell and it makes no apologies about it. It's profoundly indifferent to its audience, but not in a way that manifests in grating overt cleverness or narrative tricks. This is the opposite of that. Schoeman's unnamed narrator has no idea what an audience even is. She only tells her story from her death bed because she wants to understand her life.
What is there to understand? It's hard to know. From the outset the narrative establishes the present moment: the old room in the old house. From here Schoeman's narrator waits impatiently for the light of a morning that will never come, passing the time trying to figure out what it means to live as she did, in silence ever on the fringes, and further to experience freedom only as freedom from something or someone. Scenes unravel dreamily (though never surrealistically) to reveal unsolved mysteries, familial dramas, moments of liberation, and, above all, a vivid sense of sadness and regret.
By the end (thanks to a particular narrative turn), I was reminded of The Magic Mountain. Like Mann's great novel, This Life is a narrative in a kind of sanatorium. The dramas are small and specific to these people and this place, and it takes very little, ultimately, to expose the fragility of it all. Schoeman's narrator, however, unlike Hans Castorp, doesn't "come of age" in exchange for her time. She learns some, sure, but it comes much too late.
There is so much I love about this novel. Its rhythm is near tectonic. It's slow as hell and it makes no apologies about it. It's profoundly indifferent to its audience, but not in a way that manifests in grating overt cleverness or narrative tricks. This is the opposite of that. Schoeman's unnamed narrator has no idea what an audience even is. She only tells her story from her death bed because she wants to understand her life.
What is there to understand? It's hard to know. From the outset the narrative establishes the present moment: the old room in the old house. From here Schoeman's narrator waits impatiently for the light of a morning that will never come, passing the time trying to figure out what it means to live as she did, in silence ever on the fringes, and further to experience freedom only as freedom from something or someone. Scenes unravel dreamily (though never surrealistically) to reveal unsolved mysteries, familial dramas, moments of liberation, and, above all, a vivid sense of sadness and regret.
By the end (thanks to a particular narrative turn), I was reminded of The Magic Mountain. Like Mann's great novel, This Life is a narrative in a kind of sanatorium. The dramas are small and specific to these people and this place, and it takes very little, ultimately, to expose the fragility of it all. Schoeman's narrator, however, unlike Hans Castorp, doesn't "come of age" in exchange for her time. She learns some, sure, but it comes much too late.
August 31, 2015
a most excellent choice for archipelago books to re-introduce to the world.
see this thoughtful and good review about book https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
one can very see this self-told autobiography of a spinster farm woman's life story; isolated socially, fated and sentenced to a life of thankless toil, invisible in all but stereotypical and cruel ways, passed off as if one were a good,useful shovel to other people, so that can use the tool, but have no more humanness than a shovel either, memory and self-history hazy at best because "one person" cannot really be responsible for the continuation of a "peoples" history and culture, especially if that "person" ahs been isolated and worked not as a legitimate human, but as a tool, a human tool, as an allegory of apartheid and the horrific consequences of treating people as less than human.
plus it is a fascinating and troubling and meditative farm family saga of the very rural south africa of past, but yes also, of the now.
see this thoughtful and good review about book https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
one can very see this self-told autobiography of a spinster farm woman's life story; isolated socially, fated and sentenced to a life of thankless toil, invisible in all but stereotypical and cruel ways, passed off as if one were a good,useful shovel to other people, so that can use the tool, but have no more humanness than a shovel either, memory and self-history hazy at best because "one person" cannot really be responsible for the continuation of a "peoples" history and culture, especially if that "person" ahs been isolated and worked not as a legitimate human, but as a tool, a human tool, as an allegory of apartheid and the horrific consequences of treating people as less than human.
plus it is a fascinating and troubling and meditative farm family saga of the very rural south africa of past, but yes also, of the now.
May 25, 2018
What an amazing book! The entire story takes place during the course of the final night of an old woman's life as she considers and remembers the life she led. And what a life!
Sussie lived in the remote Roggeveld region of South Africa, where she mostly lived in the shadows of the life that unfolded around her. She hardly participated, but spent most of her life observing what happened to those around her. It's a fascinating story about the life of a family, led by a strong (overbearing?) mother and a loving father, competitive brothers, and filled with the whispered truths that Sussie hears but never quite understands. As the reader, you are able to piece together what lies between into the full story of Sussie's life.
She is a survivor and a woman who finds a way to live with it all and to do so with grace and love, and ultimately a peace. Sussie lived on the sidelines, but her story is full of life and honesty, culminating in reconciliation and acceptance. Lyrically beautiful, and gorgeously translated by Else Silke (from the original Afrikaans text).
Sussie lived in the remote Roggeveld region of South Africa, where she mostly lived in the shadows of the life that unfolded around her. She hardly participated, but spent most of her life observing what happened to those around her. It's a fascinating story about the life of a family, led by a strong (overbearing?) mother and a loving father, competitive brothers, and filled with the whispered truths that Sussie hears but never quite understands. As the reader, you are able to piece together what lies between into the full story of Sussie's life.
She is a survivor and a woman who finds a way to live with it all and to do so with grace and love, and ultimately a peace. Sussie lived on the sidelines, but her story is full of life and honesty, culminating in reconciliation and acceptance. Lyrically beautiful, and gorgeously translated by Else Silke (from the original Afrikaans text).
February 6, 2016
Karel Schoeman is an acclaimed South African writer, and this excellent translation from the Afrikaans of his novel from the wonderful Archipelago Books is a real delight. Sussie, a now elderly woman, is bedridden and close to death. As she lies there she looks back over her life to remember and try to make sense of all that happened. It’s a lyrical, almost incantatory, book, an elegy for a life not lived, a life full of isolation, betrayal, loss and violence that Sussie mentally absented herself from in self-defence. Always on the outside looking in, not always understanding what is happening around her, hers is a sad and melancholy tale. I also enjoyed the descriptions of life in South Africa, particularly in the Karoo, from before the Boer War up to modern times. A haunting and atmospheric tale.
August 7, 2020
Wonderlik hoe die vrou se innerlike monoloog aanmekaar gehou word. Ek moet nog verder daaroor dink maar op hierdie stadium is dit of die skryfstyl meer indrukwekkend is as die inhoud; natuurlik 'n kunsmatige onderskeid.
Watter verwysings mis ek, want KS hou van allegorie?
NS: My eksemplaar is uitgeleen en kom nie terug nie, maar wanneer die plaasvervanger kom kan ek dit weer te lees en verder besluit.
Die ander Stemme is nie vir my naastenby so goed nie.
Watter verwysings mis ek, want KS hou van allegorie?
NS: My eksemplaar is uitgeleen en kom nie terug nie, maar wanneer die plaasvervanger kom kan ek dit weer te lees en verder besluit.
Die ander Stemme is nie vir my naastenby so goed nie.
August 10, 2021
Na Een ander land is dit het tweede boek van Karel Schoeman dat ik las. En wederom een roman van grote ‘skoonheid’. Zijn stijl is ingetogen. Subtiel. Traag. In Dit leven blikt een oude vrouw op haar sterfbed terug op haar leven. Mijmerend. Herinnerend.
“Vanwaar die verdeeldheid in ons gezin, in ons huis, op onze boerderij – broeder tegen broeder, ouder tegen kind, meester tegen ondergeschikte en dienstpersoneel onderling; vanwaar die vijandschap, tweedracht en nijd?” We woonden gezamenlijk in hetzelfde huis, op hetzelfde erf, werkten gezamenlijk op dezelfde grond, kenden dezelfde nood en trotseerden dezelfde gevaren en bedreigingen, waren onontkoombaar op elkaar aangewezen op die onherbergzame hoogten, zaten onlosmakelijk aan elkaar vast in onze afzondering en waren desondanks onherroepelijk verdeeld, zonder enige hoop dat de verdeeldheid ooit ongedaan gemaakt zou worden. Negen mensen in hetzelfde huis en op dezelfde boerderij, zich buigend over dezelfde taak, gezamenlijk bezig, schouder aan schouder, en toch hebben we elkaar nooit echt leren kennen of een poging tot toenadering gedaan, schampten we elkaar slechts in het voorbijgaan, en gaandeweg zijn de plekjes waar we elkaar schampten uitgegroeid tot zwerende wonden. Alleen ’s avonds tijdens de godsdienstoefening kwamen we met z’n allen bijeen om ons te verenigen in een schijnbaar gemeenschappelijke handeling; of kwamen we in elk geval bijeen in hetzelfde vertrek, de leden van het huisgezin aan de grote tafel in de voorkamer en de bedienden apart in de hoek bij de keukendeur, terwijl vader ons voorlas uit de Bijbel en ons voorging in gebed. Bijeen – ja, louter schijnbaar bijeen, want waren we zelfs binnen de muren van dat ene vertrek wel verenigd?”
Er zijn overeenkomsten met Een ander land. Beide verhalen spelen zich af aan het eind van het leven van de hoofdpersoon. In 19e-eeuws Zuid-Afrika. Beide hoofdpersonen zijn buitenstaanders. Maar waar Een ander land de alwetende verteller aan het woord is, spreekt in Dit leven de hoofdpersoon direct tot ons. Dat creëert een intieme sfeer. Bijna vertrouwelijk wordt ons de geschiedenis van haar familie meegedeeld. Met fraaie details:
“Annies dochter – haar naam is me ontschoten, maar ook dat is niet belangrijk meer.”
Veel schrijvers zouden hier de naam geven van de dochter. Ook qua verhaal laat de hoofdpersoon veel over aan de interpretatie van de lezer. Klasse. 4 sterren omdat na het lezen van Een ander land (5 sterren) de lat erg hoog lag!
“Vanwaar die verdeeldheid in ons gezin, in ons huis, op onze boerderij – broeder tegen broeder, ouder tegen kind, meester tegen ondergeschikte en dienstpersoneel onderling; vanwaar die vijandschap, tweedracht en nijd?” We woonden gezamenlijk in hetzelfde huis, op hetzelfde erf, werkten gezamenlijk op dezelfde grond, kenden dezelfde nood en trotseerden dezelfde gevaren en bedreigingen, waren onontkoombaar op elkaar aangewezen op die onherbergzame hoogten, zaten onlosmakelijk aan elkaar vast in onze afzondering en waren desondanks onherroepelijk verdeeld, zonder enige hoop dat de verdeeldheid ooit ongedaan gemaakt zou worden. Negen mensen in hetzelfde huis en op dezelfde boerderij, zich buigend over dezelfde taak, gezamenlijk bezig, schouder aan schouder, en toch hebben we elkaar nooit echt leren kennen of een poging tot toenadering gedaan, schampten we elkaar slechts in het voorbijgaan, en gaandeweg zijn de plekjes waar we elkaar schampten uitgegroeid tot zwerende wonden. Alleen ’s avonds tijdens de godsdienstoefening kwamen we met z’n allen bijeen om ons te verenigen in een schijnbaar gemeenschappelijke handeling; of kwamen we in elk geval bijeen in hetzelfde vertrek, de leden van het huisgezin aan de grote tafel in de voorkamer en de bedienden apart in de hoek bij de keukendeur, terwijl vader ons voorlas uit de Bijbel en ons voorging in gebed. Bijeen – ja, louter schijnbaar bijeen, want waren we zelfs binnen de muren van dat ene vertrek wel verenigd?”
Er zijn overeenkomsten met Een ander land. Beide verhalen spelen zich af aan het eind van het leven van de hoofdpersoon. In 19e-eeuws Zuid-Afrika. Beide hoofdpersonen zijn buitenstaanders. Maar waar Een ander land de alwetende verteller aan het woord is, spreekt in Dit leven de hoofdpersoon direct tot ons. Dat creëert een intieme sfeer. Bijna vertrouwelijk wordt ons de geschiedenis van haar familie meegedeeld. Met fraaie details:
“Annies dochter – haar naam is me ontschoten, maar ook dat is niet belangrijk meer.”
Veel schrijvers zouden hier de naam geven van de dochter. Ook qua verhaal laat de hoofdpersoon veel over aan de interpretatie van de lezer. Klasse. 4 sterren omdat na het lezen van Een ander land (5 sterren) de lat erg hoog lag!
November 17, 2022
ń Meesterstem om die randfiguur se vreemdsoortigheid te beskryf. Sy kon net sowel vet of dom of mal gewees het. Mense skram van haar weg. Sy skram nog meer weg.
Die hoofkarakter (haar naam word feitlik nêrens genoem nie, asof sy naamloos en ń anonieme persoon in die agtergrond is.
Ek haal aan:
Die huis het vreemd geword met al hierdie mense, warm en benoud vd vetkerse wat orals op die tafels brand en toe klein Jasper Esterhuizen skielik voor my staan en my iets vra, hakkelend van verbouereerdheid, het ek eers nie verstaan wat hy sê nie en moes hy dit herhaal, voor dit tot my deurdring dat die musiek begin het en hy my uitnooi om te wals. Nee dankie, het ek geprewel, ek moet vir my broer iets vat om te eet. Verskrik het ek na die kombuis gevlug. Ek kon sien hoe hy terugkeer na tant Mietjie, sy ma, wat hom gestuur het, om te laat weet dat ek nie wil dans nie. Ek het lank in die kombuis gebly.
Die lang liriese sinne is hipnotiserend en ek gly op ń kano met die ritme saam.
Die beskrywings is treffend en melancholies. Hierdie boek is verbluffend goed en ek salueer die skrywer vir sy uitstaande werk.
Dan wonder sommige mense oor die nut van lees. Wonderlik vir my
Die hoofkarakter (haar naam word feitlik nêrens genoem nie, asof sy naamloos en ń anonieme persoon in die agtergrond is.
Ek haal aan:
Die huis het vreemd geword met al hierdie mense, warm en benoud vd vetkerse wat orals op die tafels brand en toe klein Jasper Esterhuizen skielik voor my staan en my iets vra, hakkelend van verbouereerdheid, het ek eers nie verstaan wat hy sê nie en moes hy dit herhaal, voor dit tot my deurdring dat die musiek begin het en hy my uitnooi om te wals. Nee dankie, het ek geprewel, ek moet vir my broer iets vat om te eet. Verskrik het ek na die kombuis gevlug. Ek kon sien hoe hy terugkeer na tant Mietjie, sy ma, wat hom gestuur het, om te laat weet dat ek nie wil dans nie. Ek het lank in die kombuis gebly.
Die lang liriese sinne is hipnotiserend en ek gly op ń kano met die ritme saam.
Die beskrywings is treffend en melancholies. Hierdie boek is verbluffend goed en ek salueer die skrywer vir sy uitstaande werk.
Dan wonder sommige mense oor die nut van lees. Wonderlik vir my
November 26, 2024
Ek was beïndruk met Schoeman se styl wat as beeldryk en poëties beskou kan word. Die manier waarop Schoeman met die plaasroman, wat as kenmerk van Afrikaanse literatuur beskou word, inweef en selfs kritiseer en dan die temas van lewe en dood, waar Schoeman die dood nie as 'n antoniem van die lewe beskou nie maar as onlosmaakbaar, is alles elemente wat my meer beïndruk gemaak het met die roman. Iets wat ek opmerkend gevind het van die roman is die titel "Hierdie Lewe" wat nie net handel oor die protagonis se lewe nie maar deur die vertellings wyse maak sy die leser deel van die verhaal deur die stadige ritme maar ook haar herinneringe wat in fragmente voorkom. Die motiewe, metafore en al Schoeman se kunstige elemente wat hy in die roman ingeweef het, het hierdie roman 'n ervaring gebied aan my en was nie net 'n roman waar in ek ontsnap het nie. Die leser moet hul tyd vat met hierdie roman om die sensoriese en emosionele aspekte te kan waardeer. As jy net een roman in Afrikaans wil lees dan moet dit Hierdie Lewe deur Karel Schoeman wees.
August 22, 2017
Beautifully translated book by an Afrikaans writing author about life on a remote farm late 19th Century. Four generations of a family are viewed through the eyes of the "spinster" daughter, sister, aunt. Sussie, whose name is almost never spoken in the book, has for many reasons - including her own choice - never been seen as a friend, accomplice, wife, partner. Although in some ways this life has been thrust upon her, she also makes it clear that it's a choice. The isolated, emotionally impoverished life of these Boer settlers is explored - as is their domination and mistreatment of their black workers long before apartheid was ever heard of. The family gets rich at the expense of their workers and neighbors - Sussie benefits from this to some expense but find the desire for wealth inexplicable. Sad people - no one joyful among them.
tasted
August 25, 2025I’m a fan of a good frame for a novel, but it’s not an easy thing to do. I also think that giving a frame a bigger (or even the principal) role in a novel can be a good idea for an alternate approach, but that’s even harder. Here, Karel Schoeman tries the second approach, giving precedence to the frame, which is an old woman lying on her death bed silently going over her life in her mind, remembering, talking about what she remembers and why, what she listened to and didn’t (and why and how), speculating on what was actually going on behind the words (often few words were spoken by the Afrikaaner farmers whom she lived with and around, which means almost no dialogue), etc.
This should have greatly appealed to me, but it didn’t: it didn’t interest me enough, the first-person narrative voice or its analyses and speculations. I only made it to page 70.
This should have greatly appealed to me, but it didn’t: it didn’t interest me enough, the first-person narrative voice or its analyses and speculations. I only made it to page 70.
September 16, 2022
Une veille femme se remémore sa vie au seuil de la mort. Cette femme a passé toute sa vie dans le veld entre la ferme sur le plateau et le Karoo en hiver lors de la transhumance.
Ce livre montre la société boer avant la guerre contre les anglais, l’isolement de ces populations, la place des femmes dans cette société, les non dits…
Ce livre montre la société boer avant la guerre contre les anglais, l’isolement de ces populations, la place des femmes dans cette société, les non dits…
September 16, 2025
Moenie dat die hoeveelheid bladsye jou kul nie - hy het vergeet om die teks in paragrawe op te breek…
July 26, 2012
Un livre dense et fort dans un style plein de poésie, qui ne peut laisser le lecteur indifférent. A travers les souvenirs de Cette vieille femme sur son lit de mort qui se repasse le film de sa vie, c'est la vie solitaire et rude des colons sud-africains que l'on va découvrir. L'Afrique du Sud et le territoire âpre du Roggeveld servent de décor à cette existence ou plutôt à cette "non-existence". Une vie passée sous silence au rythme des saisons et des transhumances qui ponctuent cette histoire austère et forte. Tel un fantôme, dans la solitude la plus sombre et l'effacement le plus total, au milieu de ces paysages mornes battus par les vents et de la poussière, cette femme a vécu comme une ombre au sein de sa propre famille. Elle se souvient de ces hommes et de ces femmes qui ont traversé son existence sans jamais s'arrêter vraiment, elle se souvient de cette mère autoritaire et froide, de la bonté de son père, des domestiques auprès de qui elle passait ses soirées, de ses frères ardents et impétueux... Et les secrets remontent petit à petit à sa mémoire. A-t-elle rêvé ? A-t-elle bien compris les histoires de sa famille et les non-dits du passé, elle la fillette à qui personne ne parlait vraiment ? Elle ne sait plus très bien... mais elle raconte ; et le lecteur devine à travers ses récits les drames qui ont jalonné sa vie. A travers ses souvenirs, elle essaie de revivre le passé et de lui donner un sens dans le but de comprendre enfin les secrets qui ont entouré son enfance. Comment est mort Jakob, son frère aîné ? Qu'est devenue Sophie, la femme de ce frère disparu ? Ou est passé Pieter son autre frère durant toutes ces années ? Mais si les souvenirs remontent peu à peu à la surface, certains mystères demeurent, enfouis dans le silence et dans l'oubli. Un livre magnifique sur cette terre oubliée du Roggeveld, tout en nuances et en demi-teintes dans un vocabulaire d'une force incroyable, créant cette atmosphère si particulière qui sait nous bouleverser par sa poésie et la puissance de ses mots.
Jamais je n'ai lu une histoire aussi forte sur la solitude, le silence pesant, la nature comme un défi qui modèle le caractère des hommes. Cette Afrique du Sud oubliée et dure où le pardon n'existe pas et où la loi de la terre est plus forte que celle des hommes. Elle n'était rien, juste une ombre au milieu des ombres, témoin silencieux des luttes intestines, des querelles familiales, une petite fille sage et solitaire, qui ne disait rien et se contentait d'écouter, qui acceptait son sort sans un mot. A la fin de son existence, cette femme qui a fait du silence son maître, se met enfin à parler, sans doute pour la première et la dernière fois, et à raconter Cette vie.
Jamais je n'ai lu une histoire aussi forte sur la solitude, le silence pesant, la nature comme un défi qui modèle le caractère des hommes. Cette Afrique du Sud oubliée et dure où le pardon n'existe pas et où la loi de la terre est plus forte que celle des hommes. Elle n'était rien, juste une ombre au milieu des ombres, témoin silencieux des luttes intestines, des querelles familiales, une petite fille sage et solitaire, qui ne disait rien et se contentait d'écouter, qui acceptait son sort sans un mot. A la fin de son existence, cette femme qui a fait du silence son maître, se met enfin à parler, sans doute pour la première et la dernière fois, et à raconter Cette vie.
December 13, 2015
2.5
" She's not telling her story, her life, to an audience; she has no idea how to talk to people and as such I found it interminable."
read more: http://likeiamfeasting.blogspot.gr/20...
" She's not telling her story, her life, to an audience; she has no idea how to talk to people and as such I found it interminable."
read more: http://likeiamfeasting.blogspot.gr/20...
Read
September 18, 2014But in English. I don't read Afrikaans. Yet.
July 31, 2015
Review TK.
May 6, 2015
Review to come at Words Without Borders later this month
May 25, 2015
I received a copy of this from the publisher. This was a lovely, quiet book that reflects on life and memory. It is a slow moving book, but one well worth the read.
August 5, 2015
I kept expecting something to happen but nothing really ever did. It was a stream of consciousness and I never quite understood the purpose of the book.
August 25, 2015
interesting story
Read
September 23, 2015This book was featured in the Nota Benes section of the May 2015 issue of World Literature Today Magazine.
http://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/2...
http://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/2...
November 17, 2015
so sad
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