Wavering between a half, and a strong four stars, I'll give this three and a bit.
I certainly enjoyed the first story in this collection, which proved a militaristic father could find an inventive use for a wheelbarrow when a big parade hits town. But the next two really knocked me for six, and in a bad way – they were dreadful; pompous, meaningless and really stylised beyond all understanding. Luckily, then, I was back on track with the next two – a garden wall getting built from the point of view of a neighbourly curtain-twitcher doesn't sound much, but a couple's response to their prime minister was even more fun. This author, then, seemed to have an unusual, witty and inventive take on his country, or at least any country where things just didn't seem to be as efficient, friendly and with-it as it should – and, with a lead character whose hands burst into endless flame that only he can see, some rare form of magical realism. In the longer sophomore effort, also here, we see the country is definitely RSA – and this is more meaty, clearer and clearly South African stuff. For once, we learn whether people are whites or not, when it might have helped our understanding of the first book's stories but weren't even told. Oh, and even the public benches can be black or white, of course. Here among these stories we do get works that weren't to my liking, but mostly that was due to high-falutin' characters and vocab, and much more seldomly because of weird ideas of form. Slightly high-falutin' is the book buyer who becomes fixated with one previous owner, in a story that could belong to absolutely anywhere; stories concerning civic statues apply universally; but we close with a piece that at least mentions African specifics (almost, though, in apology) – it again could be set anywhere, showing the way the author matured into something really very readable over two collections of short stories. Worth considering, but the hit/miss ratio is low, and those misses really miss the target completely at times.