Ja, No, Man is an eerily familiar portrayal of the life of an ordinary white South African growing up during Apartheid-era South Africa. Told with extraordinary humour and self-awareness, Poplak's story brings his gradual understanding of the difference between his country and the rest of the world vividly to life. A startlingly original memoir that veers sharply from the quotidian to the bizarre and back again, Ja, No, Man is an enlightening, darkly hilarious, and, at times, disturbing read.
Richard Poplak is the author of the acclaimed Ja, No, Man: Growing Up White in Apartheid-era South Africa and The Sheikh's Batmobile: In Pursuit of American Pop Culture in the Muslim World. He has written for, among others, The Walrus, THIS Magazine, Toronto Life, and The Globe & Mail and has directed numerous short films, music videos and commercials. He lives in Toronto, Ontario."
I can't say why I picked up Ja, No, Man in the 2nd hand book store, but I'm glad that the rear cover did enough to convince me to purchase and read it. Richard Poplak grew up in Johannesburg during the late 79s and throughout the 80s, until his family left for Canada. What made this book a worthwhile read was not a picture of South Africa during Apartheid's autumn years, but the insight into the South African psyche of that period, as Poplak met it in the various colourful characters he encountered. This title tells the tragic tale not only of a system that utterly and ultimately failed, but also the uncomfortable realisation by the author that the fond South Africa of his memory was an absurdity.
Poplak vividly describes his own introspections, with a seemingly anachronistic self-awareness, but that does not make his observations about South Africa any less accurate. In fact, my biggest criticism of this work was the author's reluctance to deliver more unabashed criticisms; most of the chapters moved towards a telling description of South Africa, illustrated by the people who populated Poplak's childhood, but I felt that these were undeveloped. This shortcoming, I feel, was poorly dressed up by overwriting; my other main criticism.
Having said that, I am extremely grateful for this piece of writing. And I believe that the window it offers into our past is one that will benefit South Africans, as we come to terms with the character of our history, not just its outstanding characters.
RICHARD Poplak writes about his childhood as a small Jewish boy growing up in apartheid South Africa’s Johannesburg suburbs. When Poplak was in high school, his family emigrated to Canada. This is a look back at his life, relationships and the rulers of the country he was not allowed to question at school. Poplak writes the way South Africans speak, and with our variety of slang it makes for enthralling reading. — Nicolette Scrooby
(Published in the Daily Dispatch on February 9, 2008)
For those of you who don’t know, I am a first-generation Canadian. For the bulk of the twentieth century, my entire family lived in South Africa. We arrived from various insular Jewish “shtetls” across Eastern Europe during the 1900s-1910s seeking opportunity, and we left for Canada, England, and the United States during the late 1970s-1990s.
My parents and my grandparents grew up during the height of Apartheid, which lasted from 1948-1994. This was a horrifically racist system that segregated the country along ethnic lines. Everything from housing to employment laws was systematically designed to ensure the dominance of the white minority over the Black majority in the country.
Richard Poplak wrote this book about his upbringing in Johannesburg during the latter part of Apartheid, before immigrating to Canada as a late teen. He writes about his suburban South African upbringing with vivid detail, honesty, and a healthy dose of dark humour. How else can you make sense of corporal punishment in the classroom, casual racism, and everyday political mayhem in an otherwise Americanized suburban life in a picturesque part of the earth? I found myself laughing out loud several times throughout the memoir at the irreverent, flippant tone of the book. Poplak interweaves pop culture references and crafts intricate, winding jokes into his prose that are clever and creative. Sometimes, however, I wish Poplak spent more time interrogating his past self with a more critical lens. He often condemns the racism and bullying that proliferated throughout his childhood and then proceeds in the next paragraph to explain how he participated in said injustice. It reminded me of George Orwell’s “Shooting The Elephant,” in which George Orwell labours on and on about the horrors of colonialism only to ultimately…well…shoot the elephant at the end of the story. I obviously don’t expect much from child Poplak, but adult Poplak could’ve provided more self-reflection.
I am not going to rate this book as I would normally. I am actually related to the author, and I don’t want to start World War III at the next family gathering 😬. So…
Rating: 🦙 (An alpaca.)
Read If You Liked 📚: Spud by John van de Ruit, Born a Crime: by Trevor Noah.
As far as memoirs go, this one was a light and entertaining read. It painted an interesting picture of life for white South African kids and teenagers during Apartheid. Many of the stories could have taken place anywhere in the world and didn't strike me as particularly South African. If I were to write a book describing my high school shenanigans, friends and teachers, I'm pretty sure no one would want to read it because some experiences are pretty universal and really not all that interesting. This book is better than my hypothetical memoirs because of: (1) the writing and (2) the context of that time period in South Africa. The value of the book lies in being able to read between the lines and juxtapose Poplak's priveleged lifestyle with that of the average Black South African teenager at the time, something you pretty much have to be South African to do properly. I don't know if this book would appeal to every reader, or just to those of us with a special interest in the nuances of social dynamics during Apartheid-era South Africa.
Poplak knows how to spin a tale, but stretches the threads a little scanty here in more than a few places. His memoirs walk a difficult line and, to his credit, he is conscious of his own failings as well as the inanities of moral guardians. Perhaps best about the book is its admittedly flawed, human perspective; worst, its occasional grasping for some form of moral universality. Still, it is eminently readable and sympathetically drawn.
I really enjoyed reading this book. It brought back a lot of memories related to living as a white South African in the 80s and 90s. I could relate to a lot of the content and experience, despite growing up in a different part of Joburg, with different religious experience, and at a different age. It also allowed me to really reflect on what was really happening around me, because actually, I can now see that I lived a very sheltered life.
An extremely interesting look at what it was like to grow up as a white child in apartheid era South Africa. Poplak looks at the effects of institutionalized racism on some of his relationships and his understanding of pop culture, as well as some of the weird social customs that occurred during the period. Lagged a little at the end, but still very interesting.
I never finished this book. After books like Mukiwa, Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight, and My Traitors Heart, well, most of our stories as white kids growing up under Apartheid will seem dull. Which this was.
Found it a bit pedestrian after the Spud books by John van Riet. While set in a different era, I found the memoirs rambling at times and the characters sad. It reminded me of my past. An era where children had power over other South Africans. I just abandoned it.