Ná sy pa se dood ervaar Gilbert du Toit eienaardige visioene: kontoerlyne van lig en vlietende skole visse. Hierdie gestaltes is boodskappers, meen hy, en besluit om die blinklywe te volg, oor die wye Karoovlaktes, Kaap toe. Gilbert se pad kruis met dié van die Howlers, ’n trio voormalige tronkvoëls wat met trompet, viool en kitaar deur die platteland toer. Hy kom kleindorpse kroeë teë, en dinosourusparke, en vergesigte wat hy hom tot nou toe skaars kon verbeel. Maar al reis hy hoe ver, die storms van sy verlede woed voort. Kuilsrivier bied ’n tydelike hawe, selfs liefde, maar vir Gilbert is hier geen ontvlugting van ’n dringende en dreigende vraag nie: Is die visse wat hom aandryf deel van groter magte wat sy lot bepaal, of skort daar iets met sy kop? Tom Dreyer se Dorado is ’n magiese roman, so tergend en onpeilbaar soos die sterrehemel van die Karoo
Tom Dreyer is the author of the novels Erdvarkfontein, Stinkafrikaners and Equatoria, as well as short stories and poetry. Stinkafrikaners was awarded the Eugène Marais Prize in 2001. Tom holds an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Cape Town and is a fellow of the University of Iowa’s International Writing Program.
His fourth novel, The Long Wave, appeared at Penguin Random House in 2016. It was longlisted for the Sunday Times Literary Prize, while the Afrikaans version, Dorado, was shortlisted for the University of Johannesburg Prize as well as the KykNet/Rapport Film Prize.
Tom Dreyer is die skrywer van die romans Erdvarkfontein, Stinkafrikaners en Equatoria asook kortverhale en poësie. Stinkafrikaners is in 2001 met die Eugène Maraisprys bekroon. Tom het ’n meestersgraad in Skeppende Skryfwerk aan die Universiteit van Kaapstad verwerf en is ’n alumnus van die Universiteit van Iowa se International Writing Program.
Sy vierde roman, Dorado, het in 2016 by Penguin Random House verskyn. Die Engelse weergawe (The Long Wave) is gelanglys vir die Sunday Times-Prys, terwyl die Afrikaanse weergawe is gekortlys vir UJ-Prys sowel as die KykNet/Rapport-fliekprys.
I found this novel quirky, poignant and quite thought provoking. The writing is vivid, and layer upon layer of images and metaphor give depth to the text. By the end it felt to me that the (admittedly strange) protagonist and his (admittedly strange) quest had something to say about the journey of all of us through life.
The death of the main character is the only thing that made it two stars. Otherwise, it would have been a one-star book. It was pretentious, and the main character clearly ignores his illness in favour of searching for something that doesn't exist.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Tom Dreyer neem die leser op 'n magiese reis. Ek het dikwels gevoel ek onderduik of ontduik dinge saam met Gilbert. Die roman speel met waarneming en waarheid, asook die weergee daarvan - veral met taal as manier om betekenis aan dinge te gee, dit te dekodeer. (Gilbert in sy Ford Capri dink: “Is ’n stuurwiel nie ’n beter koppelvlak met die wêreld as taal nie, taal met sy verminderinge en misverstande” (182).) O, en dan daardie soeke na die openbaring, die betekenis agter dinge wat die hoofkarakter en leser so stewig op koers hou. 'n Leesplesier!
Honestly, this book was not my cup of tea. It's not a genre I really read or enjoy, but university forced me to. It was really putting me in a reading slump, and unfortunately, I will probably have to reread it in preparation for the exams.
– Luke found him under a half-built dimetrodon, felled by the intensity of his vision, though the doctor called it sciatica. –
– But how do you fit a life into a Thermos flask five inches in diameter? –
– We are forever seeing patterns in randomness. That's just what we do. –
– What lay ahead was more than just a place - whatever the other two might say. It was a culmination and a consummation: of his months in Kuils River and of the years and decades that had gone before. –
– This is what happens...stone crumbles, papers curl, and wreaths shrivel in their plastic domes. But even then something does endure. These objects, those that form the backdrop of our days, and those so intimately implicated in our lives that we think of them as ours, are just our accidental contemporaries and will one day go on without us. –