Jennie de Villiers, an idealistic and politically engaged student, suddenly has to flee her native South Africa with a boyfriend whom she no longer loves—only to be stranded as an exile in neighbouring Swaziland. Fending for herself in a new culture, she discovers new ways of living and a kind of music that moves her deeply. As the story moves between Africa and 1970s London, the music of different cultures is woven through the narrative. Jennie works, studies, learns music and tries to bring these various strands together to create a fulfilling and meaningful life, as well as discover her way forward—personally and professionally. Lyrically written, extremely engrossing and deeply moving, If you can walk you can dance exemplifies the thought—‘the personal is political’. Its depiction of a young woman’s life as she travels across frontiers and cultures, reaffirms the healing power of music and the redemptive nature of human connections.
I have been recommending this book to my granddaughters. It's a fine coming-of-age novel that should be a guidepost for anyone casting about for how to make meaning of life, but the book will be particularly meaningful for young people displaced by political unrest, those who are stateless (meaning without a passport), and young women.
So often writers look to the work of Joseph Campbell for guidance on how to write a coming-of-age story. Certainly, his work on heroic journeys--the protagonist ventures forth from his ordinary life, and after facing the darkness of his deepest wound, triumphs and brings back the elixir of happiness (aka the Holy Grail) to the unenlightened. It's an out-and-back journey, with the hero returning transformed because of the experiences he has had along the way.
Certainly, when we look at the common elements of classical tales told by the Greeks, that out-and-back journey does seem to be a common element. However, the fact that this is called the "hero's journey" or a "heroic journey" ought to tell us that such a journey may not apply to the other half of humanity, namely women.
Marion Molteno's If You Can Walk, You Can Dance provides another kind of model: a female protagonist, casting about for her own true path. Over the course of this beautifully wrought novel, Jennie de Villiers, an ex-pat from South Africa, walks a zigzag path. The need to rely on a man, even when you can't stand him. The need to figure out how to support oneself. The importance of friendship with other women. How one lives as a political person in the world. How one deals with social injustice. The discovery of unknown passions. The role of conscience and integrity. How one comes to values one's unique abilities and find work that matches those abilities. All this and more awaits the reader.
I highly, highly recommend this book for its authentic portrayal of the way one young woman's life--and women's lives, in general--evolve.
One of my book club friends passed this on, having struggled but finished it - she was expecting a book about dancing, which this most definitely is not. Jennie de Villiers has grown up in South Africa and at the age of 19 gets involved in the struggle against apartheid. When her group of friends is raided by the police she escapes across the border and finds herself stuck with a boyfriend she no longer likes, unable to go home, with no money and no plan. Forced to move to London, she starts making a new life for herself, discovering a passion for alternative types of music, living in a women's commune, and making friends with a disparate collection of people. Drawn to a music teacher and discovering a love of working with children, she starts to feel some purpose in life, but when he rejects her, she moves back to Africa to truly find herself. I found the first parts most interesting, since my father and his sister grew up in RSA and were involved in the struggle there, before moving to London around the same time. As Jennie matures she becomes less of a selfish teenager, and more likeable, but then wallows in very typical late 20s relationship angst, which got a bit tedious. When Neil finally follows her to Africa, they spend most of their time debating why they can't talk about their relationship. Yawn. I liked the parts about music, especially as it applies to children, but this unfortunately gets put aside as the book progresses. The ending was unsatisfying, as if the author ran out of time so just decided to stop. I liked the writing and it was certainly a more intelligent book than a lot of what I've read recently, but it was ultimately disappointing.
A great book should leave you with many experiences, and slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading."
William Styron
Music is such an essential part of my life, it surrounds me, it makes the world seem gentle and rollicking (based upon what I am listening to!) and when I find that music is the main theme of a book, it makes that book even more interesting and enticing. It is easy to relate to the book, fascinating to connect with the people in the book and to live the story as it unfolds through the pages.
Marion Molteno’s book “If you can walk, you can dance” is one such book. Music is the binding theme of the book and as we follow Jennie’s life from South Africa to Zambia and London and back again, we realise that there are many more who believe that music is an important part of their lives too! Sounds simplistic doesn’t it, but think about it. All our memories of good days and bad days have some connection with a song or a piece of music. It just sneaks into the memory and remains a part of all the images and sound we connect with those days.
But I digress. What about the book?
The book is about a young lady named Jennie and her life as she moves across decades and counties and continents. Her journey is not just of places but also of her transformation from a young girl escaping a regime in South Africa to one who teaches music and travels to remote villages to transform the lives of others. The story weaves through South Africa and England and Zambia and Malawi, through villages where music is handed down through families and choir schools where the children learn from books and annotations and classical cello players.
In Swaziland, the land of her and Kevin’s escape, she meets Charity who introduces her to the mbira, and to the music of the villagers. And as she listens to them and joins them she realises –
"---- and I recognise the sound immediately, something that is natural to me, not their way that I am borrowing. This is the way I should always have been singing, but for the accident of having lived too much inside buildings."
It is in London that Jennie really come into her own. She lives in a large sprawling house for some time where there are innumerable people and “the systems all look as if they have been cobbled together by a set of hopeful amateurs, electric flex trailing, pipes disappearing into and emerging from strange places”. (Reminds me of some of the student gigs we have stayed in.)
Marion’s book is slow-paced but her fluidity with language keeps you engrossed. I am not sure as to how much of her own interesting life is a part of this story, but she obviously knows alternative music well. When Neil plays music for the little boy Michael he talks about “It’s a profound mystery we are touching on. We need silence to shape the sound and sound to shape the silence. Neither exists without the other.”
Books fascinate us not only with their characterisation of people but also with their characterisation of places and stories. This book is not only about music (Though I love the fact that music is the main theme that sings and dances through the book) it is about how we as human beings adjust and adapt to new surroundings and people, sometimes easily and sometimes with immense difficulty. I empathised with Jennie as she thought about Time –
Time is there, an underlying measure of the seasons. People move within it Time was being given back to me, in this place where there is more of it than anyone would think of counting.
Zambia and Malawi are no longer just names in papers of maps, here they are a part of our lives. Kiluleli is not just a large village woman – she is the one who believes Nyoko ni nyoko – your mother is still your mother – no matter how long you take to come back. Neil maybe her on-off, on-off boyfriend but he is also the man who teaches her how to make music and play music.
Enjoy the book for the story of a love between two very different protagonists; read it because:
The water is wide – we are alone again, each on opposite sides of that vast ocean we have crossed and recrossed to find a way of being together. The aloneness has travelled with each of us, through all the dismantling of walls and becoming one flesh. We come onto the world alone, and have travelled to meet each other by different routes; and each alone we will leave it.
We shall leave this world alone but as we go through this book, we understand that the end may be alone but the journey is sprinkled with people and places, some who matter like Neil and Jennie and some who flit past our lives like Jaswinder and Muhib.
What a beautiful and interesting story of different cultures, people,music, and relationships. It is written in a simple but compelling way that keeps flowing and it is difficult to put down .
I found this a fascinating book about the impact of music and the role it plays in connecting humans to one another. It challenged my largely western understanding of music and I delighted in the insights that African people can give to the meaning of music. However, the abiding impression of this book is the exquisite unpacking of what love truly is... not self interested and grasping but sacrificial and other centred, at all times allowing the other to be whoever he or she is. I shed tears at the beauty of this depiction of love. I also enjoyed Marion's style of blending what Jennie said with what she was thinking at the time. Thankfully she used quotation marks! It is a book that I will remember.
This for me was a slow read as I felt the need to savour it. I remember learning about apartheid in my youth and joining amnesty international when I was a sixth former and part of it took me back to my youth but then I read about the mother who keeps up with the news as she feels she should but feels helpless to change anything so goes and does the gardening, I feel similar about today’s news of war, conflict and corrupt politicians, how little changes. Love the theme of music connecting people and the theme of having to accept people as they are.
Loved this book! Very cleverly written, she ties everything up so neatly. Was definitely left wanting more. Story of exile during apartheid South Africa, a young woman knowing who she is, but discovering how she fits in this displaced world. The theme of music and children is beautiful. The love story between her friends and partner is rich, complicated and beautiful. Would love to pick up another book similar to this.
The writing was so choppy and hard to get into that I gave up about 50 pages in. And I hardly EVER fail to finish books. It just never worked for me - the detail was in all the wrong places, I failed to build any sympathy at all for Jennie, and it feels as if the reader is expected to know a whole lot of historical context to even make sense of what's going on (which I didn't). The story just fell completely flat for me.
A slow starter, but I got very involved in the story. As I read, I felt like much of it must be autobiographical (which is true, at least in part) because it feels so much like a memoir, but perhaps the lesson is that our lives don't have succinct plots, so why should we expect that of a novel?